The Abandoned
Chapter 9
THIRD PERSON POV:
All was quiet in the tiny apartment. A girl with deep purple bags under her eyes was sleeping like a log on the couch. A boy, of approximately the same age, lay next to the couch sleeping also, however he was in his clothes.
The boy didn't notice when the girl sat up groggily on the couch, pulling herself up a little too quickly, causing her to lie back far too quickly as well. He also didn't notice when she ran to the washroom to vomit.
MAX POV:
My head was pounding, and I was more than a little bit nauseous. I sat up, putting my hand to my head as the ache caught up with me. I flopped back down, upsetting my stomach. I felt bile rise in my throat. I leaped out off of the couch and sprinted for the bathroom, only getting there just in time for the contents of my stomach to spew into the grayish toilet. (AN: grayish is a word. Who knew!) I lifted my head from the bowl, feeling slightly better. My hair fell into my face. Ugh.
I flushed the toilet after I closed the lid, not wanting to see the raunchy mix escape down the pipes. I looked at myself in the mirror above the sink. I looked grotesque. My hair was knotted and hanging limply around my face. Dark bags were under my eyes; my skin was pale. I opened the cabinet above the toilet and groped around for ibuprofen, anything that would get rid of this headache. I dipped my head under the tap when I found the bottle, swallowing the small white pill easily.
FANG POV:
I cringed as I awoke to the sound of Max woofing her cookies. If there was one sound I hated most in the world, it was the sound of someone vomiting. I escaped the sound by climbing out of the window, sitting cross-legged on the metal balcony. There was a small terracotta pot in the corner, with small pink and yellow flowers sprouting out over the sides. I had never noticed the plain potter; it was very cute, actually. I heard Max groan, dragging her feet down the carpeted hallway. I turned my sitting body around to face the open window. She stood there, the back of her hand against her forehead, eyes squinted, looking rather horrible. I laughed at her; serves her right, I think to myself.
She began to speak. "Will you go get me bacon, eggs, and fries from McDonalds please? I need the grease." She turned away, shuffling into the kitchen and sitting in a chair.
I shrugged. I walked through the living room on my way to the kitchen. It had been warm last night, so I had wrapped my box in my sweater and placed it by the television stand. Max probably wouldn't bother it. I stayed in the kitchen for all of three seconds, quickly grabbing some cash from the drawer and took long strides back through the living room, and jumped out onto the fire escape.
MAX POV:
Fang had finally left to get me food. I didn't particularly feel like eating, but maybe it would make me feel better. I dragged myself into the living room, easing myself down onto the couch. I noticed Fang's sweater in the corner. I hated stuff on my floor. My floor was dirty enough without unnecessary stuff on it. I went over and picked up the sweater; thump. I looked down; a peculiar little box had fallen out. Hmm. I picked up the ornate wooden prism, my thumb on the latch, somewhat hesitant. I didn't hear Fang on the fire escape until he gasped, leaning into the window, food in hand, eyes glued to my hands on his box.
END.
So that was an insanely short chapter. I wanted to break this one up. I also wanted your opinion on how Fang should react to Max with his box and how things should play out between the two. I'm not really sure... I kind of dragged myself through the six hundred words above tbh :/ and this is probably a really boring story anyway omg
Sigh, this was totally uncreative. I NEED YOU GUYS. Review review review please please please!
