Nuisance

Have you ever felt so alone that it made you feel sad?

Have you ever felt a yearning for the soft touch of someone's hand?

Have you ever felt a pain so deep that came from within?

The road to recovery you could not find or begin.

Lost in a loveless world with no clear way out,

Feeling nothing more than pain and self doubt.

Seeking happiness and love at the break of each new dawn,

Only to find worse pain on you does spawn.

Chapter One –

{Brianna's P.O.V.}

"You stupid, useless freak!"

A sharp smacking sound echoed throughout the alleyway I was in, and I fell backwards onto the disgusting, unforgiving ground. My palms got a few small scraps on them, but they didn't hurt as much as my cheek.

"You can't even do the simplest of things correctly!"

My mother continued to strike and lash out at me, and I took the beating silently. I knew that if I were to speak out or try to stop her, she'd only make my suffering worse. I didn't even cry when she beat me anymore. I was only fifteen years old, but I had been living like this my entire life.

My mother's rules were relatively simple; don't speak unless spoken to, do as you're asked, no complaining, and most of all, never tell anyone of the things my mother was doing to me. I was to tell no one of the beatings. If anyone were to find out, my mother would most certainly be taken away, and I would be put in foster care or be forced to live on the streets by myself.

That thought was the only thing that drove me to keep all of this a secret.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the world, the pain, my mother. Anything that would help. The hits kept coming, and I knew it would be a while – maybe an hour, two at most – before my mother wound down enough to stop her actions and leave. Normally after a beating, she'd leave me in whatever alleyway we had met at, leaving me to wander around town for a couple hours until I had to return to the hell I called 'home'.

Most of the time, I hadn't really done anything wrong, but my mother beat me regardless. She ran a small café that I sometimes helped out at (unpaid of course), and she always complained about the staff. If she'd had a stressful day, she'd take out her anger and frustration on me.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost didn't notice that my mother had stopped beating me. Almost.

It had only been a couple minutes since she had started her rough assault, so I saw no reason for her to stop now. Although I was glad, I was still confused.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" I heard my mother snap, and opened my eyes.

A boy probably no older than myself stood in front of me, blocking my mother from view. He was gripping her wrist, preventing her hand from moving any closer to me. The strange thing was, he had white hair. I could tell – even though his back was to me – that he was in his early teens, so why he had white hair at this age was beyond me. He was wearing a long coat with silver trimmings, black boots and white gloves. What a weird outfit.

"I could ask you the same thing." The strangely-dressed boy replied calmly. "You shouldn't go about beating people – especially young woman."

I couldn't help it, but my eye twitched slightly at that. 'Sexist idiot… But he did save me from my mother, so I guess I'll let it slid for now.'

"Who the hell do you think you are, brat? What I do with my daughter is none of your business!" My mother glared at me over the white-haired boy's shoulder, and I shrank back a little bit. "Breanna! Who is this kid?"

I shook my head mutely, but that wasn't enough for my mother.

"I asked you a question! Answer me when I speak to you!"

"I-I… I don't k-know…" I murmured softly. I rarely ever used my voice, so it was naturally quite – the opposite of my bold thoughts.

The boy looked over his shoulder at me, and I noticed he had a red scar decorating the pale skin under and above his left eye. Kind gray orbs stared at me, full of worry. He let go of my mother's wrist after throwing her a quick look, and knelt down beside me.

"Are you alright, Miss?" He asked.

I just looked at him. 'Who the hell is this guy, and why does he care?' Looking over his shoulder, I saw my mother glare venomously at the two of us before turning on her heel and storming off. I sighed in relief and nodded slowly.

"…Thanks…" I said quietly, not daring to make eye contact with the gray-eyed boy. It wasn't because I was shy, but because I had been raised as a lowlife and taught to avoid eye contact as much as possible. Judging by the trimmings on this guy's coat it was pretty expensive, which had to mean something.

The boy smiled gently and cautiously brushed some of my black hair from my face, revealing my right lilac eye that usually hide behind my bangs. My eyes were strange – no one ever really had lilac eyes, after all – and that was another reason I liked to avoid eye contact.

"It's no problem." The boy replied, standing up and offering me his hand. "My name's Allen Walker by the way."

I hesitantly placed my own gloved hand in his outstretched one, and allowed Allen to gently pull me to my feet. "…Brianna Reilly…"

"Well, Brianna, I was just about to grab a bite to eat and you look like you could use a good meal – care to join me?"

I fidgeted slightly. It was true I was hungry – my mother and I could only afford little amounts of food and she didn't exactly deem me 'worthy' of eating since I was a 'stupid, useless freak' – but I didn't want to be a burden to Allen after he had already done so much for me by just getting my mother to stop for now.

That's all I was after all – a burden.

Allen definitely noticed my hesitation. "I don't mind, Brianna. I'd actually feel better if you had something to eat."

I sighed. He only pitied me, just like everyone else. "…Alright then." Allen smiled, and I allowed him to lead me to a nearby restaurant. He certainly was strange…

AN/

I really need to stop coming up with new story ideas…. CURSE MY IMAGINATION – IT'S WORKING OVERTIME!

Anyways, please review (anything extremely negative will be ignored)!