They lived on the third floor. Their apartment was only two rooms – a bedroom and a living room. The kitchen was in the living room and the bathroom was in the closet in the bedroom. Before they had moved there, Belle didn't think people actually lived in places like that. She hadn't even known they existed. But here she was, stuck in this dump. The horrible thing was that she was afraid to leave the dump because whatever was outside was worse.

Her father was a "scientist". A chemical engineer, if you will. He didn't really have a job, which was the reason they had to sell the farm and move east to L.A. to live in this bucket of shit. He "invented" things and sold them to companies. Or, that's what he was supposed to do. That's what he told people. But he hadn't sold anything at all since Belle's mother had died five years before.

Maurice was a tall man, with grey, whiskey hair and a thick grey mustache. He own four suits made of corduroy which he wore in a cycle every day. As Belle entered the room, nearly tripping over a ring stand holding a beaker full of some unknown substance, she saw that her father had decided to wear his tan suit today. Sometimes, she was thankful that she had no friends - she probably would have died of embarrassment if they ever saw her home. The living room was completely full, to maximum capacity, of test tubes and beakers and bottles of chemicals that had been stored in one of the barns at the old house. Every day, all day long, Maurice would fiddle with his supplies, claiming to be on to something huge, something that would completely amaze the other scientists at the convention.

Three months ago, Maurice had gotten word of a convention not too far outside of L.A. that was offering a three million dollar reward to the invention that was most useful to man-kind. Now, knowing her father, Belle was certain Maurice didn't give a hoot about man-kind, but he certainly wanted that money badly enough. He'd worked non-stop on a formula that would create the best adhesive for work-sites. Personally, Belle didn't see how that would benefit humanity much, but she didn't argue. He could have quite the attitude when he wanted to.

Because of his insane endeavor, their apartment looked even crazier. There were dozens of things stuck to…well…just about every surface – and stuck for good. He'd tested all of his creations of just about everything he could, recording the differences in movement and mass every day. They had a toaster stuck to the wall next to the door, a chair, upside-down, on the wall near the bedroom, and several books stuck to the ceiling. One thing that Belle found particularly amusing was the giant, stuffed Pikachu that was hanging, by his lightning bolt shaped tail, to the ceiling over the kitchen counter.

"Belle, I'm leaving for the convention this afternoon," Maurice said stoically as he realized his daughter's presence, not taking his eyes off the folder of papers in front of him.

"Alrighty, Daddy, have fun."

"I'm going to be gone a little longer than planned," he said slowly. "I'll be home on Wednesday."

Belle froze. "You said you would only be gone a day," she said quietly. "That's five days." Absentmindedly, she spotted her mother's golden locket around Maurice's neck. Oh how often she thought he wasn't worthy of wearing it. He had no respect for her mother.

"I know, but I think I might have a chance of getting a good job with a company while I'm there." Belle frowned. He was lying, she could tell. His story was too vague.

"You could have told me!"

"Don't raise your voice to me, young lady!"

"I'm not! I'm just saying it's extremely inconsiderate of you first, not to tell me, and second, to actually leave me here alone for five days!"

"Don't call me inconsiderate! This is in our family's best interest! I'm doing this so that you can go to school in the fall and get a good education!"

"You only want me to get a good education so that you can get me out of the house for good!"

"So what?"

Belle's voice got caught in her throat. Her father could be a real ass sometimes. Her pale hands closed into tight fists at her side. "Then why do I stay around?! I should just leave now so you don't have to deal with me anymore-"

"Belle, don't be so stupid. You wouldn't last a day out there on the street. While I'm gone, I want you to stay here. Don't leave the house and don't let anyone in."

"What if I want to go out?"

"You're not allowed. If I found out you did go out…you'll never leave this house."

He was contradicting himself. What an ass. Belle growled in frustration, glaring at her father, and turned around to march back into the bedroom.

"Isobel Carmichael, don't you slam that-"

Belle slammed the door before he could finish his sentence. She grabbed her book off the bed and hurried into the bathroom where she locked the door behind her and climbed into the empty bathtub. She opened the book on her lap and began to read.

Ah, reading. Her one, true vice. Reading could fix her mood, no matter how bad it was. They were the only thing that kept her sanity anymore. She scooted down lower into the old-fashioned, white, ceramic bathtub and brought the book closer to her face. The book she was reading was the Iliad – one her mother had given her years ago. She simply adored Greek Mythology and anything to do with it. A few minutes later, she heard a car door slam below the window and the familiar engine of their ancient Chevy pickup truck. Her father was leaving already. She cursed him lightly under her breath and, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, continued reading. She was alone now – for five days. Five days of complete terror that someone would climb into her window in the middle of the night and rob her, or worse. She wished, with all her heart, that she'd had someone to stay with her, or at least talk to for a while, just so there would be someone to remember her if anything horrible happened. She let out a dry sob and, carefully closing her book, she set it aside and hugged her knees close to her chest.

Only a few moments later, she heard the crash of metal outside the window and a boy yelling something. "Get off!" the familiar voice screamed. "I didn't do nothin' to you, creeps." Belle jumped up onto the side of the tub and peered out the window to the street below. A group of punker kids had formed a circle around a particularly tiny boy with bright red hair. She knew that boy. He lived in the apartment building across the alley. She saw him hanging out on the fire escape quite frequently, drawing in his notebook. What was his name?

"Tell your buddy, Gaston, we're looking for our pay for this month, got it?" one of the larger boys with a bright blue Mohawk said. The smaller boy backed up against the side of the building without uttering a word. "You got that, Lefou? You don't tell him and we come after you again, 'kay?" Lefou was his name. Abelard Lefou. He reminded Belle of a rat, in his features and habits. He was a master pick pocket. He had told her that when he'd first introduced himself.

And she remembered Gaston too. He was the larger, handsome looking fellow that Lefou followed around. Gaston Desmonds was sort of…the leader of the neighborhood gangs. He was king around those areas. That had been made very clear to Belle when she'd first moved in. She tried to keep a large distance between Gaston and herself at all times. As much of a "king" as he was, she was definitely not going to be his queen – which is what he had insinuated upon first meeting her.

As much of a creep as the two were, Belle had actually had a few conversations with Lefou. She knew that both of his parents were dead and that he was raising his little sister, Sally, in an apartment provided by Gaston – who basically provided all of his food and shelter in exchange for a servant-like relationship. He was a strange boy, but he had never done anything to Belle and he definitely didn't deserve to be beaten up like that.

She jumped out of the tub and scurried out into the living, grabbing a ring stand from one of the tables and making sure her key was in her pocket before dashing out the door and down the stairs. She quickly found the back door and watched the boys from a much closer distance for a few minutes. Nothing much had changed. Two of them were holding Lefou's arms while two others were kicking and hitting him. Belle glared at the boys, angry that there was nothing she could really do. Her grip tightened on the ring stand and she was about to open the door when the boys suddenly stopped. Puzzled she waited to see what caused their sudden change in mood.

Not two seconds later, she saw what had stopped them. Gaston, accompanied by a tiny little girl half his size, approached the group and they backed away immediately. He made no move to go and help his lackey, but the little girl rushed over and pulled him off the ground. She assumed the girl was Sally, Lefou's sister, and the small action warmed her heart a little.

"Is there a problem here, boys?" Gaston asked with one eyebrow raised. The tallest boy spoke up first.

"Nope, no problem here. We just wanted to make sure you got our message."

"And what would your message be?"

The boys all looked at each other and then the tall one spoke to Gaston again. "You owe us, Gaston. You're overdue."

Gaston sneered at them. "Now, gentlemen, are you really in that much of a hurry that you need the money now? Surely, you can wait another week?"

The tall boy shook his head. "We need it now, Gaston, we're in a rut." Gaston smirked at him and preceded to pull a roll of cash out of his pocket.

"This can hold you over until next week," he said, handing the money to them. The boys all nodded and hurried off. Gaston glanced at Lefou for a moment before his eyes rested on the window she was looking for. He grinned. Belle's eyes went wide.

In seconds, he was in the doorway, pushing it open and forcing himself inside. "Why, hello there, Belle, how are you this fine day?" She took a big step backward, her grip tightening on the ring stand once again.

"I'm doing alright, Gaston. How about yourself?"

Gaston smirked at her. "I'm good, thanks. Listen, Belle, I've been meaning to tell you – sorry about the way I acted last time. Let me make it up to you? I'll take you out to dinner tonight, or tomorrow night, if you prefer."

Belle clenched her teeth. "No thank you," she said politely. Gaston frowned.

"Really, Belle, what have you got to lose? Any girl would kill to be in your position right now."

Belle frowned. "Any girl except for me. No thank you, Gaston."

Gaston glared at her, puffing out his chest to look intimidating. Belle raised an eyebrow.

"You'll go with me soon enough, Carmichael. You'll see." With that he turned on his heel and left the building. The door slammed shut behind him and she rushed to the door.

"C'mon, Lefou, let's go. Sally, don't drop him."

She watched as the three of them made their way back into the building.