**
Runaway: Part Two
**
The night was her only break from the constant rules and holdbacks. It was the only time she felt a little hope for something great to happen to her. Sometimes she felt she should just make the best of what her life will turn out to be. Even if she couldn't get things straightened out with her mother. Anyone would think she had the perfect life. She had everything, well, everything money could buy, a perfect haven for a child to get every opportunity out of life. She wasn't worried about opportunity, and all the so-called 'perks' that came along with being a Gilmore. She just wanted a normal life, cozy and warm and fun filled and the one thing she has never felt from her mother or father.
**
Her bedroom was filled with night colors from the window, dark blues and eerie blacks and grays. The large tree outside her window was blanketed by the earlier snowfall. The ledges of the balcony were hardly visible and the window was foggy towards the bottom. She shivered at the thought of being outside. She turned over and faced the fireplace in an attempt to warm her cold thoughts. Her door was closed, like always and she began to delve into her thoughts, again. She rummaged underneath her pillow in search of her diary. She pulled it out and took the pen from its spiral bindings, opening it at the same time. After realizing the crappy light, she took the torch from underneath the other pillow on her double bed. She sat up and looked through the old entries. She bit her lip and thought of what would happen if her mother ever found it and had the nerve to read it. It didn't take long before a smile appeared on her face as she saw the amusement in the situation. She giggled quietly and began to write. 'She had a hairstyle of a beehive . . .'
Slam! Pain. Lorelai woke from a rough dream bashing her arm into the iron bed head.
"Owww." She whimpered as quiet as she could to prevent the whole house form waking up. She shoved her throbbing hand and arm between her knees and clamped them shut in attempt to cut off the pain. Her eyes welled up with tears from the pain and she rolled onto her stomach and sat up kneeling. She bent her head down. "Stupid dream, tell me next time you plan on doing something like that." she gritted her teeth and looked up slightly, talking to on one in particular. "Any amount of money for someone to cut my finger off." She slowly pulled her hand out and looked at it. She gripped her index finger with her other hand and slipped back under the covers.
She stared up at the ceiling. "God! I really need to stop doin' that." She let go of her finger and put it up in the air moving it through the air that had grown cool. She rested her hand on top of her stomach and tried to close her eyes, but they just kept forcing open. Her head was flooding itself in images of her latest dream. She stared over at the window and felt a wave of nervousness come into her stomach as she got an idea. An exciting, fun idea that was influenced by her dream, one that her parents didn't have to know about. A smirk appeared on her face and she rolled onto her side. "This should make vacation a little more exciting." She rolled onto her back. "A little vacation of my very own." She closed her eyes and began to think out her plan.
**
Lorelai woke a few hours later to the smell of breakfast. She got up a little chirpier than she was yesterday. She took her dressing gown and headed down stairs, the little plan still traveling around her head. She walked slowly down the last few stairs and pried her ears into her mother's phone conversation.
"What? Who on Earth had the sense to move and entire business dinner to tonight without notice?!" Emily practically yelled into the phone.
Her mother was already busy throttling people on the phone and it wasn't even 10am. But this was the news she wanted it to hear. It would make her plan a lot easier and feasible. She felt like she needed to rub her hands together, but somehow she brought her self around to refraining. She sat down at the table and waited for the maid to bring out her food. She tapped her hands together underneath the table. 'My last home cooked breakfast.' And it brought a smile to her face.
**
