Hi guys I'm back with a new story ... Its called Nameless because in all honesty I couldn't think of a name for it so as it progress I'm open to suggestions if anyone has any. I hope you like this Enjoy :) xx
She rolled over groaning looking at the clock showing 3am. It was the third time that night she's been woken by the noises from next door- the paper thin walls indicating they were having another domestic. She knew it wouldn't be long before things were smashing and the police were called. Stuffing her head into the pillow she tried to drown out their noises, but failed as they continued to get louder. She could hear the people opposite her banging on the door asking if everything was ok, but as always they quickly gave up. It was nights like this she loathed, having to listen to other peoples rows, their children crying trying to gain a smidgen of attention. This was one of the reasons she left her "Family" home in the first place, Family being used loosely – very loosely ; to escape the constant arguing and make up's and break ups was all she wanted but it seemed she'd just led herself to the same situation, it just wasn't her parents and she wasn't the subject of the discussion.
The tattered net curtain blew with the slight breeze that forced its way through the slight gap where the balcony door didn't lie flat with the wall. She could hear the sounds of city on a constant cycle night after night. The sirens speeding by followed by the tooting of traffic and muted screams of laugher combined with the dull bass of music coming from the opposite ends of the flat. The noises could send you into overdrive if you weren't already insane enough to continue living in this place. In frustration with the noise she through the bed sheets of her, the freezing cold room unwelcomingly replacing the slight warmth she'd created in the bed. Flicking the lamp on across the room she perched at the small table, its level wobbling as she leaned onto it beginning to sketch on the paper.
Soon the images from her head were becoming a vision on the paper, she never understood until now why some people worked better at night. Over the few months she'd lived here, some of her best work had been produced, the simple sketches turned into little parts of her becoming more alive, a story behind every one of them, a little bit of her story etched on paper. The dim lighting cast an orange glow in the room, if it wasn't the middle of December she'd be out on the balcony, her artistic tendencies tended to surface more out there, it also beat being inside, it wasn't the most attractive of places.
Having finished the sketch she leaned back on the chair, her eyes gazing around the room. The walls were pretty much falling down around her. What was once, probably white wallpaper was peeling off around her, the clean shade now a murky off white speckled with dirt and mould, previous owners were obviously smokers as there was still a lingering smell of tobacco mixed with the damp, something she thought she'd be used to by now. The remainder of the flat was pretty much in the same condition, very poor. I suppose it's what you'd expect in the area she was in. It was pretty much one of the worst areas in east London. Well known for its gangs and crime- it was one of those places that are always stereotypically used in fiction crime dramas. A slight smirk took to her face, this was far from fiction: it was reality, her reality to be exact. It was precisely like all the TV programs though, the place had standards as high as the people living in it and for Lauren at the moment this was pretty low.
After another half hour or so wallowing in mess her life was in, she realised the majority of the noise had stopped, only the echoes of a dog barking a few doors down remained. The clock showed 5am, only 2 hours sleep so far and she needed to be up in another two for work to live her double life. Plunging the room back into darkness she flicked the lamp off easing herself back in the bed. Her eyes, no matter how tired seemed to remain open, glued to the celling. Slight bits of plaster crumbled down from it as the occupants above her started their day. Over the last few months she'd got to know the routines of everyone around her. It was quite sad really.
The people opposite her were the traditional family, Mother, Father two kids, their flat was the only one that ever looked worth living in. They both worked 9-5 jobs in the city but could only afford the flat as both had debts to pay off. Number 12 next to her on the left were the people you tried to avoid; they were the ones who were rather close with the police for all the wrong reasons. A Young male lived on her other side, he was university student. She'd discovered that by the amount of party's he was having closely followed by numerous girls and late night "Calls" which she's guessed were some form of deals. Upstairs were nice people, a man and his partner, they were nice but noisy, he worked on the tubes so was up at 5 every morning, his metal toed boots causing her celling to flake plaster a little more each morning. It was strange that she knew so much about these people yet had never had more than a 5minuet conversation with any of them.
This wasn't exactly what she expected when she moved here. To be honest it was hard to decipher what she had expected at all. She had her reasons for leaving, damn good ones at that and where the exact reason she couldn't go back no matter how much she wanted to. It was killing her and she knew it was, but she refused to face up to the truth. She had contact with her parents and Siblings but no one ever talked about what happened. She'd made her bed and she'd got to lie in it no matter how uncomfortable.
Hope you liked this :) why has Lauren had to leave any ideas ? xxx
Next chapter : Secrets