The Birds

OMNISCIENT POINT OF VIEW

They were so comparable to birds; born with a smouldering craving for freedom, a natural need to spread their ornate wings and take to the air. Birds were never meant to be sheltered in cages on display or attached to the ground with ropes and that was the beliefs they mirrored – they didn’t want to be trapped. They wanted sovereignty yet life had different plans, life was out to confine them with love. But how can a bird be caged with love if all they’ve ever known is the open skies and burning flame of counterfeit love?

The enthralling fumes lingered in the air as the intoxicated individuals swayed seductively along to the booming bass. A multitude of vibrant strobe lights flickered across the dance floor and illuminated the inebriated faces scattered in the crowds; whilst barely clothed females danced exotically along to the low drumming of the song and the overpowering stench of drugs and alcohol smothered the horde of people.

In the far left corner of the perilous club sat a misplaced Belle Huntington, her slender fingers running across the rim of her daiquiri, her eyes holding an absent gaze as she examined the mass of drunks. A distraught sigh escaped her crimson lips as she sat perched on the glossy black bar stool receiving more attention than she desired, several pairs of perverse eyes blazing holes into her while she took a lengthy sip from her drink – the taste of alcohol burning a precarious path down her throat and distracting her insanity. Unconsciously, Belle moped at her now empty cup, her fingers tugging at the ends of her hair in annoyance in addition to the balmy tears that unwillingly coated her eyes.

“If you want a drink so badly then buy one,” the threatening voice of her boyfriend scowled, his vicious bottle green eyes locking with her troubled ones. Her eye colour faded to a brittle metallic gray, like morsels of slate, her plump crimson lips parted as she sat almost expressionless at his statement.

“I’ll have a margarita,” Belle responded plainly, her gape never faltering from the vacant glass; the limp lime hung hopelessly on the side and mirrored the sourness of her response. She wasn’t sad because her drink was empty – she was miserable because her only form of comfort was in fact the cocktail. She’d been sat at the bar for a good half an hour drowning her sorrows, her cream coloured dress itching against her skin and leaving little to the imagination, she sat discouragingly in the dark hoping to finally evaporate into the shadows.

“Tell the bartender that, not me.” He snickered, a sly smirk adorning his chiselled features. She finally tore her gaze away from the cup and turned her head slowly to stare at the supposed love of her life however, his eyes were locked on the tempting blonde that swayed hypnotically in the crowd. Even Belle was finding it hard to tear her gaze away from the striking fair-haired girl and that fact alone was enough for her to buy another ten margaritas. “I’ll be back sunshine,” his voice murmured, lust seeping through his words and he instinctively licked his lips before placing a corrupted kiss upon her cheek. His lips leaving a feeling of irritation upon her pale skin, the need to rub against it and clean away the filthiness that it left behind beleaguered her.

“Okay,” was all she could muster seeing that her boyfriend had left in such a hurry, his muscular figure merging into the crowd of meagre bodies – the music pounding through the towering speakers and shaking the surfaces.
“Can I help you pretty lady?” A flirtatious voice cooed, Belle’s despondent eyes landing on the mischievous bartender, his cerulean orbs twinkling under the dim bar lights, his rogue eyes inspecting her curiously.

“I’d like a margarita please.” She raised her voice in order for him to hear over the thumping sounds, a sly grin tugging at his face as he fulfilled her request. Belle remained pessimistic as a looming figure sat beside her where her boyfriend once was, the unknown figure stared at her intently; he watched her every move whereas Belle let out a wavered exhale attempting to disregard the mystery male's probing gawk whilst he eyed the lonely heart sitting at the bar.

“So how are you going to pay sugar?” The blue eyed bartender questioned teasingly, Belle’s eyes landing on his name tag – her heart clenching at the familiar name scrawled onto the pristine plastic.

“My boyfriend will pay once he returns,” she sniffled taking the glass away from him and eyeing the washed out colours that swirled in the lucid glass.

“You mean that guy?” He asked, his eyebrow raising a notch and Belle already knew what to expect. Her eyes brightened at her new found comfort before they mechanically closed and she allowed herself to drown half the drink, the smooth texture of the glass sticking against her glossed lips before she downed the alcohol. She momentarily escaped into the sweet coldness of the drink as it tingled through her senses.

“Yeah him,” her eyes fluttered open and locked icily with his, her head cautiously turning around to look at him – his body glued to the blonde haired beauty in a sensual retreat, his lips gliding up her neck leisurely and his hands resting upon her thighs. Physically she remained unmoved, her eyes never faltering, her lips didn’t quiver and her expression never transformed instead she felt the blow deep within her sentiments; the voices calling out to her, reminding her of the fact that she was never going to be the blonde haired girl. She would fuse into the darkness with her shadowy black locks and her dull grey eyes; she was never going to be good enough.

“I’ll pay for her,” a raspy voice shrugged hearing the pain inside her voice and snapped her out of her trance. She was imprisoned by his honeycomb eyes; they were gloomy and bitter, but that's what enticed her. They drew her in one tepid stare. She was astounded by how they managed to glitter under the club lights yet lack so much emotion. But most of all it scared her how she was almost looking at her own eyes in the mirror.

“You don’t have to do that,” Belle stated, her hands reflexively wrapped together whilst fiddling with her thumbs. Just a few minutes later, she found herself transfixed back on those same detached orbs. She could feel them flaming holes into her, as if they were scorching lasers. She consciously tucked a stray strand of her shadowy hair behind her ear as she devoured the rest of the features that belonged to the mystery man. She liked the way his hair was still a bit messy however fastidious enough to be presentable, the white shirt and faded jeans contrasting perfectly against his tanned skin. The lights shone perfectly against his smooth skin and highlighted his caramel coloured eyes. Every single thing about him was alluring, making it impossible for her not to stare rudely. He was undeniably handsome.

“It’s fine,” he stated whilst taking a small sip from his drink and she promptly looked away unable to meet his prevailing stare. “I’m Damien.” He informed as he took the time to appreciate the long silky, black curls that cascaded down her back and her unfilled eyes. He absorbed her visage and her full, red lips and defined nose. She wore minimal make up and still her features were radiant and he had a peculiar urge to just reach out and kiss her.

“I’m Belle,” she smiled ever so softly, it was almost as if she didn’t smile at all and as an alternative she raised her glass in a thankful gesture before downing the rest of its content.

“I knew you were a flirt,” a masculine voice growled, his familiar breath fanning over her neck as it tingled with goose bumps. She didn’t like the way he made her skin crawl anymore, there was no longer a rush of pure adrenaline, it had replaced with a tormenting panic.

“It’s okay for you to kiss other girls but I can’t tell someone my name?” Belle questioned, her voice wasn’t angry; it was empty and accusing... Her boyfriend scowled in apparent displeasure, his muscular arm wrapped around hers harshly and he took the time to squeeze her roughly, a slight hiss escaping her lips at his callous actions.

“I promise, nothing was going on.” Damien spoke up, his hand pushing him back slightly to loosen his fierce grip on Belle, a flicker of emotion gleaming across his eyes but it was gone just as quickly as it came. He watched her, his eyes questioning her about the state of affairs; it was like he was calling out to her... He could tell, he knew already that they always seemed to fight.

“I just hope you’re not lying.” Her boyfriend spat before swaying lightly, the alcohol having an obvious affect on his stability. “Meet me outside Belle.” He taunted and Belle clutched her glass in fear of the cold glare that she was receiving, the voices in her head calling out to her. You deserve it Belle, why couldn’t you just be good enough for once.

She watched guardedly as he walked away, his heavy footsteps echoing above the roaring noise and her grip loosening on the cool glass. He was gone for now but she knew he would be back all too soon but she couldn’t help but revel in the moment of freedom and dwell in the surge of panic, a feeling she was well acquainted with. His taunting had temporarily escaped and her mind wanted to melt in ease but his words only left her frozen. “Meet me outside Belle.” He controlled
Her even when he wasn’t physically present and that alone was enough to send her crazed existence into a frenzy of tears.

​Belle had regretfully gone to meet him outside and she was well aware of what his intentions were. And it always leads to this. She was no longer near the club but walking down an eerie alley alone. Belle’s feet were aching and her body felt exposed to the polluted air. Her dreary eyes gazed at the surroundings, the moon was hiding behind the city clouds, and creepy buildings lined the street as the cars shone from the reflection of the dim street lights. Her feet carried her away from the thumping sound of the music. Her killer heels knocked against each other in her hands as she neared a large contaminated puddle on the path.

She was contemplating whether jumping over it was a good idea but settled on putting her heels back on. She leant down to place her shoes onto the pavement; however, she was greeted by her blurred reflection in the puddle. The puddle portrayed the fact that her mind was just as blurry from the alcohol but then she noticed them, the marks on her skin... And it all came flooding back.

Tainting the once white canvas of her skin were large bruises, the purple swirling across her fragile coating. The tears continued to roll down her cheeks, her eyes just as absent as before but her body was now feeling the physical pain of her emotions. Every punch she felt on the outside of her body was nothing in comparison to the hurting she felt inside except this time, she could see them. She witnessed the colours infect her skin, her hands rubbing against her in rage – she wanted them to go away, to stop intruding her body and infesting her mind. She wanted it to stop.

“You’re so repulsive and everyone can see it now, no one will ever love a fuck up like you and do you know why? Because you’re just, you’re -” she spat at her reflection, the alcohol helping her vent her anger before walking through the contaminated puddle barefoot and finishing her sentence, the grimy water soaking her feet. “Because you’re so fucking ruined.”

BELLE HUNTINGTON
I walked up the grimy steps to my apartment, a disgruntled grimace scrawled across my face whilst I painfully made my way towards the mahogany door. My surroundings had been blurred for a considerable amount of time from the aftermath of the alcohol and the smouldering of my tears, my feet were wet and had small scratches from all the jagged rocks I’d carelessly ambled over. I tried to put my heels back on but they only bought me more uneasiness so instead I meandered home wallowing in the imperfections of humanity.

The vivid lights of the vacant hallway burned at my irises and highlighted the bare white walls, it was as if I had been placed in a mental asylum alone – the walls watching me and taunting my incapability to think straight, mocking the way I’d stagger towards a door that seemed so far away and laughing at how corrupt I was. There was a complementary uncanny silence that lingered in the air which was understandable considering it was two in the morning yet it meant I could hear my thoughts clearly, the thoughts that drowned out my sanity. After what seemed like an eternity, I reached the front door to my small apartment – a familiar bright pink note stuck onto the door with a rusty pin, the eight letters stamped firmly in crimson ink on the paper, this wasn’t the first time I’d seen the note plastered onto the entrance. It had been continuously put onto my door and every time I did the exact same action.

My slender hands tugged off the notice before tearing it into tiny pieces, the crisp sound of the paper tearing filled the silence as I let the rose coloured pieces fall to the marble floor. I already knew what the note said and I didn’t need anything else to add to my already distressed frame of mind. I swiftly rammed the key into the door and entered the cold apartment, a shiver slithering up my spine and allowing a flurry of goose bumps to grace my skin. My shoes made a loud thud as they collided with the wall, my hands throwing them aimlessly into the small apartment before picking up the several envelopes that littered my floor.

The word ‘EVICTION’ covered every envelope reminding me of the fact that I was already $450 behind on my rent; my landlord had constantly reminded me of the fact that if I didn’t have my money sorted by last week that I could consider myself homeless. I didn’t know what to do; I had no job which meant I had no money. I was relying on him, relying on my boyfriend to pay for everything but it seemed like his need to shelter me was fading. I was becoming irrelevant and it was okay for him because he had qualifications to get a good job, he didn’t have a domineering girlfriend stalking his every move and most importantly he wasn’t as fucked up as I was.

I should have stopped it getting this far but his love is the only love I’ve ever known. We all express our love differently and I wish people would understand that, we aren’t all the same even though we tell ourselves that we are. We all secretly crave for the desire that love brings but hardly anyone gets that anymore, we’ve learnt to accept what we receive. This was my way of accepting his affection, it brings him some form of satisfaction to own me and control me. It makes him happy having the upper hand; he loves to discipline me when I’m wrong but most importantly he loves to beat me and I don’t mind anymore because we all have our reasons.

I’m numb to the physical pain and all the feeling in me is gone because unlike many, I don’t pretend to have no shame. I believe that everything that has ever happened to me is something I deserve. I believe in karma and I know from experience that karma is a bitch. Karma was the reason I was stood in the middle of a pile of eviction letters and accepting the brutality of living. I exhaled in defeat at the state of affairs; I leant against the door as substantial saline tears trickled down my raw cheeks. The clammy texture of my black mascara coated my face and my hands clawed harshly at my thick strands of hair and allowing myself to fall between the hordes of letters in a weeping mess.

What was I supposed to do if I couldn’t get the money on time? I had no one to turn to; I would never consider my parents an option and everyone simply had their own lives to attend to. I was just irrelevant. I needed money fast and there was no way that was going to happen. My body shook violently against the door, heavy sobs escaping my lips as I opened my eyes – the ruined reflection greeted me as I took note of the mirror that hung on the opposite end on the hallway.
I was looking at all the broken pieces, not the broken pieces of the mirror but the broken pieces of me. My hair was in a messy array on top of my head and black mascara streaked my face since tears coated my long lashes, the bruises were like a second skin and my eyes remained drained. I bled the pain and darkness of my corrupt soul as it poured from my concrete coloured eyes, I closed my eyes and all I could see was the darkness that I know will soon swallow me and I fear it whilst longing for it, longing for permanent darkness and eventually my body rocked itself into sleep on the cold hard ground.

​“Miss Huntington?” I slowly awoke from my unfathomable slumber; my heavy eyelids slowly flustered open feeling the frosty air envelope me, an irritated groan escaping my dry lips hearing someone relentlessly hammer against the door. “I know you’re in there Miss Huntington!” I heard the threatening voice of my landlord repeat my breath hitching as I gazed at my surroundings. I was sprawled across the floor with a pounding headache, the eviction letters accompanying me and my dress from last night was horribly creased. My back was searing with pain and the pounding in my head seemed eternal. I looked at the clock to see the flashing red numbers 14:26, the time escaping me without me realising, it wouldn’t be long before time escaped me everlastingly.

“Miss Huntington, I am tired of extending your stay – If you’re listening to me, I will be back in an hour and if you do not have the money then I will have to kick you out.” His stern voice informed me, my body immediately slumping further into the floor at the revelation. It was impossible, where was I supposed to scrape up $450 in an hour? It was always like this, I felt a fresh batch of tears prick my eyes, my feet subconsciously carrying me towards the old landline, my fingers shook unwillingly whilst I dialled the familiar number.

I listened carefully to each ring, my hands beginning to tug at my hair as I waited for him to answer. Each diminutive ring seemed to last forever, my eyes glued to a glass of water on the desk where the phone was perched, 1... 2... 3... I counted all the small bubbles that filled the old glass, they’d slowly dance to the top before disappearing on the surface; I really can’t remember how long the glass of water had been there for. It was mesmerising, the way it calmed my senses, the sheer thought of the liquid coating my contaminated cadaver and clearing it of all nightmares – it was calming and I wanted to run away into the water.

“I’m sorry the person you are calling is currently unavailable.” I scowled at the automated voice that greeted me before redialling the number, the grip on my dress tightening seeing that each ring ridiculed my existence.

“Oh for fucks sake,” my bottom lip trembled when the same mechanical tone replied. I don’t have much time, the clock now read 14:32, and it wouldn’t be long before the landlord returned.

I scurried towards my room and grabbed a small suitcase that was no taller than my hips; it was a dull blue and was just as tattered as the rest of the apartment. I hastily threw in what I deemed necessary, I could collect the rest of my things later.
My eyes sadly scanned over all the items and the emptiness of the room before grabbing the outfit I had assembled and pacing towards the bathroom. An overwhelming sense of melancholy bubbled in the pits of my stomach when I entered the shower; the warm water lapped against my skin and tickled my bruises but it wasn’t enough to make me forget. Each drop of water fell with its own clarity, making a vast splash upon my damaged skin. I scrubbed sadistically against my skin, my nails clawing against the raw flesh as the soap massaged my senses. I wanted to feel clean. My hands quivered as I turned up the temperature, my tears melting into the scorching water – my skin turning scarlet and I continued to rub against my skin, my bruises still tender from the previous night and my back aching from the floor. The onslaught of water was like a cascade of never-ending rain and one day it would make me forget...

​I sat on my tattered suitcase, my eyes focussed on the door and the ticking of the clock taunted my mind; tick, tock, tick, tock. I didn’t have long now. My skin was still slightly red from the shower but I felt clean even though my skin was still red and stinging with pain. I held the landline in attempts to make one last call to save my apartment, my fingers wobbling whilst I pressed each button with more force than necessary.

“Hello?” His gruff voice answered, my heart stopped and a small smile graced my features at the sound of his voice.
“I need your hel-“ I begun pathetically.

“Stop fucking calling me Belle, we’re not together anymore.” His voice hissed before a long beep was heard, my mouth involuntarily hung open, the phone slipping out of my fingers at his harsh allegations and making a loud thump against the floor. I needed him.

“Miss Huntington please open the door,” the landlords croaky voice snapped me out of my hopeless daze. “Miss Huntington open the door!” He repeated but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t bring myself to stand up and open it. “I am going to use my key to enter now.” He huffed and I heard him fumble for his keys, my eyes glued to the door in a daze. I needed him and he let me down...

I heard him enter and my head slowly rose to greet him as I stood up. His elderly, fear-provoking eyes watched my every movement. His face had predominantly been hidden by his thick rimmed glasses, but I could still sense his cold gaze. Slowly, he followed me as I walked towards him. When I glanced at him, he smiled at me; his wrinkles letting me see his provocative expression, his smile reeked of wickedness, and something inside had told me he held many secrets behind his stare. His cold eyes were almost black, and kept watching me.

“Thank you for letting me stay here,” I whispered tugging the navy suitcase forward and tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear that fell from my messy bun.

“I hate to do this but we all need money. You’re not keeping up with the rent and there are a lot of complaints coming from the neighbours,” He stated inspecting the apartment.

“Some of us need money more than others,” I shrugged making sure my composure was still collected. “I’ll be back soon to collect the rest of my stuff.” I sighed despondently not waiting for a reply and walked away from the apartment. I can’t describe the feeling, I couldn’t think straight. I didn’t know where I was going or what to do, I was plainly lost. I had nothing but myself and a suitcase.

My hoary eyes roamed across the dreary atmosphere, the delicate sun waves trying to peer between the barriers of evaporated water. A shiver juddered through my spine whilst the weighty, oak door to the apartment complex slammed shut, my eyelids squeezing tightly closed whilst familiarising with the strident, thunderous noise.

I let my shoe clad feet bump with the pavements, my black suede ankle boots splashed in the puddles of polluted water that sprinkled across the dreary pathway on the desolate path that lead away from my dwelling. All I had left were nice clothes and objects that I didn’t even pay for. Maybe if I looked rich, I’d become rich... My cheeks crammed with air whilst I took a rickety lungful of polluted oxygen, a million goose bumps flourishing on my skin due to the cold autumn air that swirled around my adequately clothed body. An insensitive growl escaped my frivolously glossed lips feeling a callous flurry of wind cuddle my bare legs, my hands impulsively pulled up knee length, thermal socks.
I felt tears drip down my cheeks, I had been walking for roughly an hour and my feet were still sore and I was just as clueless as before. The street I was walking down was filled with towering houses that belonged on the front of magazines and I certainly didn’t fit in here, I was homeless after all... I felt like a little girl in a foreign land, I was lost in the realms of humanity and I wished I never existed – things would be easier that way.

I pulled off my cable crop jumper and dropped it onto the pathway next to the suitcase before placing myself on top of it. It wasn’t hot outside nor was it cold, it was just bitter. I sighed whilst eyeing the beautiful house that sat on the other side of the street, maybe in another life I’ll be living in one of them. I focussed on the house and the chirping of the birds in the afternoon. They sang freely and no one was capable of stopping them from their gratis spirit, the sharp chirping sounds booming in my ears and filling up the hushed streets. I rubbed my arms soothingly and embraced their song; it was as if they were playing a song just for me. They were my own slice of happiness, their vocals swallowing the tense atmosphere and filling the sorrows.

“Excuse me?” A raspy voice questioned and my eyes instinctively closed at the thought of my embarrassment. I didn’t want sympathy for being homeless, it’s my own fault because I needed him too much and he let me down.

“Can you hear them?” I asked in attempts to draw the attention away from me. “The birds,” I muttered opening my eyes and fumbling with my hands.

“They constantly think its day time due to the street lights and they always chirp.” The voice informed calmly.

“Don’t you wish you could be as free as the birds?” I pondered whilst picking at my chipped nail polish, the cold wind caressing my skin. “No one can stop them,” I sighed dejectedly finally turning to look at the man. My breath hitched and my cheeks instantly flushed pink as I recognised him, he was the guy at the bar and now he could really see how valueless I was. He could bask in all his glory whilst I weltered in nothingness in front of him; I went from the girl in the bar to the girl on the streets in a matter of minutes.

“What are you doing here Belle?” He asked me curiously, I tried to remember his name but it wouldn’t come to me. I had far too much lurking in the depths of my cranium to retrieve that one small detail yet I could remember his face...

“My feet were hurting so I sat down...” I trailed off deviously before leaning my head against the tattered suitcase.

“You could have called a taxi and sat down at home.” He ridiculed and I could feel him judging me – just like the voices in my head, he was taunting me... Even now he was looking down at me, literally.

“Maybe I don’t want to.” I scowled like a little girl; it was none of his business what I was doing here and why.

“Look okay, you are going to have to find somewhere else to sit because my neighbours are going to think I’ve kicked you out and they’re going to start talking,” He huffed, his hands raking through his gold coloured hair in frustration. He had the nerve to state something so degrading so tranquilly!

“Fine, I’ll go but you’re an insensitive jerk.” I howled before standing up in anger, my hands slamming against my jumper in attempt to pick it up.

“What makes you say that?” He snickered, a sly grin curling onto his face and fuelling my already bubbling anger.
“You’re having a fit over something neighbours might say when you have a homeless girl on your pathway?” I hissed no longer caring about the words that spilled from my lips. “You wouldn’t know a problem even if it came knocking on your door because people like you are the reason there are so many corrupt things happening to humanity!” I exclaimed and slammed my jumper dramatically against the suitcase before viciously tugging it away.

“Where are you going?” He asked completely ignoring everything I just said.

“Away from you!” I sulked and continued to walk down the path.

“Where exactly are you going?” He grabbed onto my arm, I winced at the sudden pain.

“I’ll find somewhere and don’t you worry, it won’t be on your territory.” I felt my bottom lip quiver as I shook his arm off and shot him the most horrible glare I could muster, my eyes piercing into his only to melt into the detached pools of honeycomb.

“What happened?” He frowned slightly and his hands pushed up my shirt sleeve curiously.

“Don’t be so fucking nosey!” I raged pushing him away, my arms were still fresh with bruises and my skin tender from the hot shower.

“You can’t stay on the streets,” he heaved a sigh. “I’ll pay for you to stay at a hotel for a night.” I consequently sighed at his act of pity, I wanted to deny his offer and save my pride but it didn’t really matter whether I had my pride or not. There was no one who genuinely cared enough to acknowledge my pride, I had nowhere to go and I could always pay him back. I’d been homeless for no longer than a few hours and I was already willing to sacrifice the very little I owned and in that moment I felt pity, pity for all those ruined by humanity.

“I’ll pay you back,” I whispered almost inaudibly. My finger nails were digging into my palm and engraving small crescent shaped dents and trying to rid me of my anger and sadness, my eyes just as cold as before as I accepted his offer.
“I’ll drive you there,” he smiled in victory as he grabbed my suitcase and I could only muster up half a content smile in return.

OMNISCIENT POINT OF VIEW
Belle sat in front of her hotel room window lost in thought, the sky was drowned in shadows and deceiving her eyes. It was a field for the stars which were so bright they were like holes in the floor of paradise and optimism. Dark grey clouds loomed over the moon ominously and the people below were perished and brought to despair and darkness once again as rain drops fell from the skies and coated the window. The rain pattered and the wind smacked against all the windows. Belle had grown fascinated by rain drops; they were so fantastical and somewhat beautiful. They represented the beautiful side of sadness, like tear drops they contained the pain of the skies and let the heavens rid of its hurting.

Except Belle could never rid of her hurting, it was cut far too deep in her soul and scarred her mentality. She couldn’t bring herself to sleep so she sat silently in front of the window and drenched herself in darkness, her eyes aching with sadness and tiredness although every time she tried to fall asleep reality came screaming. Her body was now paralysed, not even the blanket draped around her shoulders provided her with any comfort. She slowly leaned forwards, her forehead brushing against the window and a minor shot of bitterness travelled through her.

Her head snapped abruptly to the side as her hotel phone rang and shattered the silence she bathed in; she furrowed her eyebrows in perplexity – who would call her at 12:28am at her hotel? Slowly Belle stood up and made her way towards the floor, the texture of the carpet tickling against ruddiness of her feet. She examined the phone for a short while, it was a bright white in comparison to her old dirty white phone at home... However, it still managed to taunt her and remind her of all the vile conversations she’d ever had over the phone. Belle instinctively wrapped the blanket closer to her body before picking up the phone, her tongue sliding across her lips before talking.

“Hello,” her voice came out croaky.

“Belle?” His voice sung through the small speakers and her body tensed.

“Why are you calling me?” She asked curiously. “I promise I’ll pay you back!”

“That’s not why I called,” the strangers’ voice beckoned calmly.

“Just tell me your name...” Belle frowned remembering that she hadn’t taken the time to find out the helpers name.

“I want you to meet me for breakfast in the hotel restaurant at 11am tomorrow, okay?” He stated rather than asked, his tone slightly threatening but calm and Belle knew it was a command.

“Okay.” Belle muttered as she went to place the phone back down, she didn’t want tomorrow to come because she knew she would be homeless again and the streets were no place for someone as fragile as her. She would have said no to breakfast as well but she didn’t have the money to pay for a meal and it was the least she could do after his kind gesture.

“Oh and Belle,” she heard his voice call and she bought the phone back up to her ear. “My name is Damien.”

OMNISCIENT POINT OF VIEW
It was a cold morning where a backing wind brought along a granite sky and mizzling rain, the minimal sun peering through the slender material of the curtain reaching out to the barren area of carpet that surrounded the dishevelled hotel bed. Belle lightly rolled over, glancing at the time, it was 10am. She gently rubbed her eyes, a small yawn parting her lips and her legs gently hit the floor as she leisurely pulled the covers off her drained body.

A despondent sigh escaped her lips once her feet brushed against the rugged carpet beneath her, all the worries from yesterday flooding her cranium and suffocating her thoughts. She had exactly one hour before she had to meet Damien in the quaint hotel restaurant; she decided to continue with her morning routine and have a quick shower instead of her usual melodramatic, thought provoking ones.

After she finished brushing her teeth and washing away her mucky nature she slipped into a beige cashmere and mohair blend jumper that was a size too big and exposed the straps of her black bra. She also wore faded blue jeans that were strewn with washed out tears and a crumpled effect, to complete the look she placed on a baby pink blazer and her shadowy ankle boots from the previous night. Belle slung her hair into a neat ponytail and she left her face bare considering the need to pack makeup wasn’t seen as a necessity and she hadn’t bothered with a handbag since she had nothing to place inside of it.

Belle’s eyes roamed across the dull atmosphere as she checked the time. It was 10:38am once she was ready and she settled on sitting down, even though she was at a hotel she had already made her bed and fluffed the pillows so she cautiously sat on the floor and lingered in the silence.

She slowly pulled her knees up and rested her chin on them, her hair tickling her neck as she leaned forward slightly.
“What are you going to do Belle?” She spoke to herself quietly, allowing her voice to fill up the silence along with her shaky breaths – she didn’t know what she was going to do after she had to check out of the hotel, she hadn’t bothered to think that far ahead and she really didn’t want to think of the consequences of her eviction. Instead she battled with herself to think of nothing which was a lot harder than she anticipated but eventually her mind was numb with deliberation and she found herself staring attentively at the small vase on the desk.

Inside of the porcelain vase was an array of faux flowers made from flimsy plastic and decorated in ink, the vase however was far more intriguing as she acknowledged the swirls of baby pink that decorated it and the soft drops of yellow that melted into blue coloured kisses. She longed to be as beautiful as the vase but her soul was far too corrupt; her soul was painted in black ink, coated in a grey darkness and splattered with navy blue wounds. Belle sat motionless on the floor and allowed her senses to take over.

She slowly raised her head straining to hear the heavy footsteps that echoed outside her hotel room whilst the sound closed in around her, hurdling over the closed wooden doors her room and stark off white cement walls. She heard the footsteps approach, the intensity of each step growing louder but they soon vanished, the person evidently walking straight past her door and heading in the opposite direction. Belle had a small sliver of hope that maybe someone was coming to save her but she knew that the idea itself was far too ambiguous and fairy tale worthy to actually occur
.
Belle decided to finally leave her hotel room in order to stop tormenting herself into melancholy; she unhurriedly used the palms of her hands to push herself up from the floor and make her way towards the locked door. Her heels slumped against the carpet whilst she fumbled with the door lock; she was always worried that something bad would happen during the night due to past experience so she had ensured that whenever possible she would lock her door. She wasn’t concerned about how quickly she’d escape if there were a scorching fire, after all there were monsters out there that were far more deadly than blazing flames...

End note:
I have a lot more to post (however, I only have a free account) but I want an unbiased opinion on it even though my friends claim that it is good. I have scenes I want to add and if somebody would like to revise my plot and help me then please email me [e-mail] or email me if you're interested in reading more. Truthful critique please.