Fic: Home (chapter one)
Title: Home
Author: Miss Peg
Rating: T
Characters: Emily, Naomi, Gina and some random OCs
Summary: Emily finds herself on the streets with little more than the clothes on her back. When a kind stranger picks her up and takes her home she discovers that home isn't necessarily the place where your relatives live.
Disclaimer: Emily and Naomi have never been mine...I like to think I can claim some ownership over Gina because we know so little about her, but ultimately she doesn't belong to me either.
Notes: Thank you to Kvaker81 or cheering me on and because the idea of this story (well the later chapters) are inspired by her story Desert Eagle. I would appreciate any comments on my story. :)
Home
The clothes on her back had started to smell that morning but she tried to ignore it. Emily bent down pretending to tie her shoelace as a passer-by raised his nose in her direction. If only she had had a shower before she left or better still thought to pack some soap or deodorant. She had already used up her only change of clothes. The man’s eyes followed her down the street, something she would have to get used to. She slipped into the nearest café and, despite several pairs of eyes focusing their attention upon her, snaked between the chairs towards the toilets.
Emily pushed herself rucksack first into the only vacant cubicle and after twisting and turning herself and the bag around, she pushed the lock closed behind her. The most important task was making herself appear clean and presentable. She could hardly wash her clothes in the sink and carry them out of there. She feared doing anything whilst someone was in the next cubicle. The toilet next to her flushed, the lock clicked open and the hinges squealed like mice scurrying away from danger. She listened to the tap running, the soap dispenser squeezing out liquid soap and paper towels being pulled, screwed up and thrown haphazardly into the bin. As the door banged closed behind the toilet’s previous occupant then and only then did Emily feel safe unlocking her own door.
She went first for the lock on the main door to the toilets, securing it to avoid any unwanted visitors. Then she unzipped her jacket and hung it carefully on the back of the door. It was already covered in various unknown stains but Emily couldn’t avoid the force of habit hanging her coat up to protect it from the public bathroom. When she slipped her t-shirt over her head goose bumps travelled down her arms until her bare skin became accustomed to the cool room. She reached out to the soap dispenser until her hand filled with pink soap, ran the tap and began to create a lather which she worked into her armpits. She longed for a razor to trim her growing underarm hair. Instead she made do with a quick wash.
Next she pulled her trousers and knickers down around her ankles and worked a second lot of soap into the folds of her skin. The whole process left her feeling dirtier than before she began, her dignity slowly dwindling in the face of her recent actions. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to wash in a public toilet. Someone knocked on the door and a woman’s voice called out to her. In her haste she knew the soap wasn’t all gone but she pulled her underwear back up around her hips and returned her trousers. Once she’d replaced her jacket she unlocked the main door and disappeared out past the waiting women. A ship in the night. She would never see them again and chances were they wouldn’t see her either.
As if nothing had even happened, Emily continued down the road with an unnatural spring in her step. She had little to be happy about and yet she didn’t want the world to see her for what she really was; a young homeless girl with nothing to her name and no one to turn to. Her insides churned with hunger as she passed a bakery, another café and a Subway one after the other. She salivated uncontrollably and wondered what would happen if she followed the usual process in Subway only to run off with the sandwich once it was in her hands. She couldn’t do that. Her mother had brought her up too well to give her the skills and confidence needed to walk out without paying. Instead she walked on by, forcing each foot in front of the other as her stomach groaned loudly. An elderly couple glanced up at her as they exited the café. They gave her that same look of sympathy she’d been getting anywhere she went, as if people knew.
Eventually the hunger grew too great that Emily stopped on a corner, lifted her hood over her greasy hair and held out a hand. She had only tried begging once before and had failed miserably, now she lacked even more confidence the task was almost helpless. Tears strolled down her cheeks like water on the edge of the sink, waiting until the very last moment before travelling at speed to the depths below. She dropped her bag at her feet and sat on the floor with her legs crossed and her hood covering her face like a yob. She hunched her shoulders over and took great gulps of air with each indescribable sob. Then someone dropped a two pound coin in front of her. She looked up, wiping at her cheeks with the sleeves of her jacket but the person who had given her the money was already long gone.
A long while after she sat on the side of the pavement turning the coin over in her hands. The Queen’s head made her smile like photographs of her own family used to. She could spend the money. That’s why she had been given it; for food, for cigarettes, for whatever she pleased. The crowds on the street continued filing back and forth on missions for clothes and food. She longed for the days where she was like any one of them, with a time limit she wanted to stick to, with a list of things to get done before the last bus home. She recalled walking along that street and ignoring the beggar that posted himself permanently on the opposite corner. She’d looked at him once, really stared into his face and he hadn’t looked that old, she remembered thinking that he should really be at home with his family. If only she knew then what she knew now, maybe she would have tried to help him instead of brushing him off with a hand. Or worse still, allowing her sister to shout abuse at him about buying drugs and not really needing their help. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him. Was it any wonder that people who lived on the streets fell into drugs when there was little else to do? Perhaps it would have been better to be high instead of face the world she was living in, just like everyone else.
The bustling crowds eventually disappeared leaving behind a gentle flow of people still lingering in the city centre; business types who rushed for the next bus, groups of teenagers travelling home from school, a mother pushing a pram and dragging her toddler along behind. The sun set and there was little she could do as darkness drew in. She eased her weary limbs up and slung her rucksack over her shoulders. She didn’t really know where to go so she started walking along the high street. A well-dressed couple watched her walking towards them and when their paths crossed they moved into the road as though she had some kind of disease.
The reversing beep of a van wailed out from a side street until it turned onto the road and sped off away from the shops. Emily glanced down the dark alley. She had barely considered what she would do that night, as she had the night before. Wandering aimlessly because what other option did she have? She could set up home in some backstreet and hope it was good enough but the strong smell of rotting food and decaying rubbish made her stomach turn. She could manage for one night. Halfway down the alley she found a pile of cardboard boxes which she rearranged into a makeshift bed. It was cold down there on the floor and the evening was still young, but she zipped up her jacket, retrieved the small blanket from her bag and curled under it. Once night had fallen she didn’t really want to be awake, so she closed her eyes and dreamed of all the things she once loved. Even if she couldn’t sleep again that night it didn’t matter because behind her eyes was all the happiness she needed to get her through.
In the night the rain began to fall soaking the cardboard boxes and leaving Emily in sodden clothes. The last time she had climbed out of bed in wet clothes she had been about seven. The shame of being soaked, despite knowing it was not her fault, brought the red out in her cheeks. She gathered her belongings and carried them out onto the high street where she hovered under the overhang whilst waiting for the shopping centre to open. A small crowd gathered and she found her way into the middle to disguise herself with the strangers. But as she walked along the tiled floor with her shoulders hunched up around her ears and her hood covering her head a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to leave. She tried to listen but once he had told her about the rules and hoodies, she was too ashamed to let him see her face that she ran for the door. The rain didn’t stop for some time and the overhang shelter was barely enough to protect her from the elements. She reached her bright red, shaking hands into her pockets in the hope of keeping them warm. She lifted the coin from the day before out of one pocket, an unexpected surprise that brought a smile to her face. She knew then that her decision to save it had been important.
The barista in the coffee shop looked her up and down with furrowed eyebrows. Emily closed her eyes for a moment then ordered a hot chocolate. She didn’t want to feel ashamed for being there because she was a paying customer and so had as much right as anyone. Is that what her life had become? Embarrassment, shame, fear. Tears crept into her eyes as she carried her hot chocolate to a table in the corner. The mug warmed her hands and as she sipped the boiling liquid it travelled through her insides to the tips of her toes leaving her a little happier. If she had access to a hot drink every day then maybe she could have survived living on the streets. The worst thing was the hunger pains, but she’d grown used to not eating. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the cold.
The longer Emily sat at the table the less reason she had for being there. Her mug of hot chocolate had long since emptied and she only stayed because it was warm and dry. The wind howled outside and the rain bashed the windows. She watched the weather, she watched her empty mug and she even watched the woman clearing tables on the other side of the shop; anything to avoid going back outside. Eventually the woman reached her table and with a disgruntled expression asked if she was finished. In other words, it was time to leave.
She made a quick dash across the road and along the high street searching for somewhere else to go to keep dry. Not that her clothes had had much time to dry out. She opened the door to a phone box and stood inside, staring at the payphone. They didn’t have many of them anymore because everyone had mobile phones. Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to use one. She lifted the handset and watched the screen flash up. Twenty-pence was left from the last caller. Once upon a time it was enough to make a call, not anymore. She pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out the twenty-pence change she’d got from the coffee shop. She dialled her sister’s number, a number she knew all too well. When she greeted her on the other end of the phone the money ran out and Emily was left listening to Katie’s voice shouting abuse before hanging up. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat but no avail. It didn’t matter that it rained outside anymore; she pushed open the door and, carrying her rucksack down by her side, walked slowly along the high street in the rain.
How had her life come to this? Why had she chosen to walk in the rain when she could go home and try to sort things out with her family? If they even wanted her to; they were the ones who asked her to go in the first place. She tried to remember a time when Katie had spoken to her like she cared but all she remembered was Katie shouting abuse down the phone a few minutes earlier. On the other side of the high street she sat on a bench and dropped her rucksack at her feet; her tired and weary feet that were wearing down the insoles of her shoes. Someone sat beside her and bent down to tie up his shoe. He didn’t seem to care how close he was to her. Emily looked over and smiled at him. Maybe not everyone was all bad. Then he ran off and it took her a moment to realise that the bag she’d place on the floor was now on his back halfway down the main road. She jumped to her feet and ran after him. Her short legs and weary feet didn’t help the race and eventually she gave up, falling to the floor with great sobs. There was nothing she could do now. She didn’t even have a blanket or a change of clothes. She had learnt the hard way the ways of the street but there was no way out, no Maid Marion to take her away from this life.
A hand pressed down on her shoulder and she turned to look up at a woman who smiled down upon her. A large toothy grin that reached her eyes, a genuine smile that Emily hadn’t seen on anyone in far too long. She didn’t know the woman and yet she allowed her to lift her to her feet and half carry her down the road.
Author: Miss Peg
Rating: T
Characters: Emily, Naomi, Gina and some random OCs
Summary: Emily finds herself on the streets with little more than the clothes on her back. When a kind stranger picks her up and takes her home she discovers that home isn't necessarily the place where your relatives live.
Disclaimer: Emily and Naomi have never been mine...I like to think I can claim some ownership over Gina because we know so little about her, but ultimately she doesn't belong to me either.
Notes: Thank you to Kvaker81 or cheering me on and because the idea of this story (well the later chapters) are inspired by her story Desert Eagle. I would appreciate any comments on my story. :)
Home
The clothes on her back had started to smell that morning but she tried to ignore it. Emily bent down pretending to tie her shoelace as a passer-by raised his nose in her direction. If only she had had a shower before she left or better still thought to pack some soap or deodorant. She had already used up her only change of clothes. The man’s eyes followed her down the street, something she would have to get used to. She slipped into the nearest café and, despite several pairs of eyes focusing their attention upon her, snaked between the chairs towards the toilets.
Emily pushed herself rucksack first into the only vacant cubicle and after twisting and turning herself and the bag around, she pushed the lock closed behind her. The most important task was making herself appear clean and presentable. She could hardly wash her clothes in the sink and carry them out of there. She feared doing anything whilst someone was in the next cubicle. The toilet next to her flushed, the lock clicked open and the hinges squealed like mice scurrying away from danger. She listened to the tap running, the soap dispenser squeezing out liquid soap and paper towels being pulled, screwed up and thrown haphazardly into the bin. As the door banged closed behind the toilet’s previous occupant then and only then did Emily feel safe unlocking her own door.
She went first for the lock on the main door to the toilets, securing it to avoid any unwanted visitors. Then she unzipped her jacket and hung it carefully on the back of the door. It was already covered in various unknown stains but Emily couldn’t avoid the force of habit hanging her coat up to protect it from the public bathroom. When she slipped her t-shirt over her head goose bumps travelled down her arms until her bare skin became accustomed to the cool room. She reached out to the soap dispenser until her hand filled with pink soap, ran the tap and began to create a lather which she worked into her armpits. She longed for a razor to trim her growing underarm hair. Instead she made do with a quick wash.
Next she pulled her trousers and knickers down around her ankles and worked a second lot of soap into the folds of her skin. The whole process left her feeling dirtier than before she began, her dignity slowly dwindling in the face of her recent actions. It wouldn’t be the first time she had to wash in a public toilet. Someone knocked on the door and a woman’s voice called out to her. In her haste she knew the soap wasn’t all gone but she pulled her underwear back up around her hips and returned her trousers. Once she’d replaced her jacket she unlocked the main door and disappeared out past the waiting women. A ship in the night. She would never see them again and chances were they wouldn’t see her either.
As if nothing had even happened, Emily continued down the road with an unnatural spring in her step. She had little to be happy about and yet she didn’t want the world to see her for what she really was; a young homeless girl with nothing to her name and no one to turn to. Her insides churned with hunger as she passed a bakery, another café and a Subway one after the other. She salivated uncontrollably and wondered what would happen if she followed the usual process in Subway only to run off with the sandwich once it was in her hands. She couldn’t do that. Her mother had brought her up too well to give her the skills and confidence needed to walk out without paying. Instead she walked on by, forcing each foot in front of the other as her stomach groaned loudly. An elderly couple glanced up at her as they exited the café. They gave her that same look of sympathy she’d been getting anywhere she went, as if people knew.
Eventually the hunger grew too great that Emily stopped on a corner, lifted her hood over her greasy hair and held out a hand. She had only tried begging once before and had failed miserably, now she lacked even more confidence the task was almost helpless. Tears strolled down her cheeks like water on the edge of the sink, waiting until the very last moment before travelling at speed to the depths below. She dropped her bag at her feet and sat on the floor with her legs crossed and her hood covering her face like a yob. She hunched her shoulders over and took great gulps of air with each indescribable sob. Then someone dropped a two pound coin in front of her. She looked up, wiping at her cheeks with the sleeves of her jacket but the person who had given her the money was already long gone.
A long while after she sat on the side of the pavement turning the coin over in her hands. The Queen’s head made her smile like photographs of her own family used to. She could spend the money. That’s why she had been given it; for food, for cigarettes, for whatever she pleased. The crowds on the street continued filing back and forth on missions for clothes and food. She longed for the days where she was like any one of them, with a time limit she wanted to stick to, with a list of things to get done before the last bus home. She recalled walking along that street and ignoring the beggar that posted himself permanently on the opposite corner. She’d looked at him once, really stared into his face and he hadn’t looked that old, she remembered thinking that he should really be at home with his family. If only she knew then what she knew now, maybe she would have tried to help him instead of brushing him off with a hand. Or worse still, allowing her sister to shout abuse at him about buying drugs and not really needing their help. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw him. Was it any wonder that people who lived on the streets fell into drugs when there was little else to do? Perhaps it would have been better to be high instead of face the world she was living in, just like everyone else.
The bustling crowds eventually disappeared leaving behind a gentle flow of people still lingering in the city centre; business types who rushed for the next bus, groups of teenagers travelling home from school, a mother pushing a pram and dragging her toddler along behind. The sun set and there was little she could do as darkness drew in. She eased her weary limbs up and slung her rucksack over her shoulders. She didn’t really know where to go so she started walking along the high street. A well-dressed couple watched her walking towards them and when their paths crossed they moved into the road as though she had some kind of disease.
The reversing beep of a van wailed out from a side street until it turned onto the road and sped off away from the shops. Emily glanced down the dark alley. She had barely considered what she would do that night, as she had the night before. Wandering aimlessly because what other option did she have? She could set up home in some backstreet and hope it was good enough but the strong smell of rotting food and decaying rubbish made her stomach turn. She could manage for one night. Halfway down the alley she found a pile of cardboard boxes which she rearranged into a makeshift bed. It was cold down there on the floor and the evening was still young, but she zipped up her jacket, retrieved the small blanket from her bag and curled under it. Once night had fallen she didn’t really want to be awake, so she closed her eyes and dreamed of all the things she once loved. Even if she couldn’t sleep again that night it didn’t matter because behind her eyes was all the happiness she needed to get her through.
In the night the rain began to fall soaking the cardboard boxes and leaving Emily in sodden clothes. The last time she had climbed out of bed in wet clothes she had been about seven. The shame of being soaked, despite knowing it was not her fault, brought the red out in her cheeks. She gathered her belongings and carried them out onto the high street where she hovered under the overhang whilst waiting for the shopping centre to open. A small crowd gathered and she found her way into the middle to disguise herself with the strangers. But as she walked along the tiled floor with her shoulders hunched up around her ears and her hood covering her head a man tapped her on the shoulder and asked her to leave. She tried to listen but once he had told her about the rules and hoodies, she was too ashamed to let him see her face that she ran for the door. The rain didn’t stop for some time and the overhang shelter was barely enough to protect her from the elements. She reached her bright red, shaking hands into her pockets in the hope of keeping them warm. She lifted the coin from the day before out of one pocket, an unexpected surprise that brought a smile to her face. She knew then that her decision to save it had been important.
The barista in the coffee shop looked her up and down with furrowed eyebrows. Emily closed her eyes for a moment then ordered a hot chocolate. She didn’t want to feel ashamed for being there because she was a paying customer and so had as much right as anyone. Is that what her life had become? Embarrassment, shame, fear. Tears crept into her eyes as she carried her hot chocolate to a table in the corner. The mug warmed her hands and as she sipped the boiling liquid it travelled through her insides to the tips of her toes leaving her a little happier. If she had access to a hot drink every day then maybe she could have survived living on the streets. The worst thing was the hunger pains, but she’d grown used to not eating. She didn’t think she would ever get used to the cold.
The longer Emily sat at the table the less reason she had for being there. Her mug of hot chocolate had long since emptied and she only stayed because it was warm and dry. The wind howled outside and the rain bashed the windows. She watched the weather, she watched her empty mug and she even watched the woman clearing tables on the other side of the shop; anything to avoid going back outside. Eventually the woman reached her table and with a disgruntled expression asked if she was finished. In other words, it was time to leave.
She made a quick dash across the road and along the high street searching for somewhere else to go to keep dry. Not that her clothes had had much time to dry out. She opened the door to a phone box and stood inside, staring at the payphone. They didn’t have many of them anymore because everyone had mobile phones. Emily couldn’t remember the last time she’d had to use one. She lifted the handset and watched the screen flash up. Twenty-pence was left from the last caller. Once upon a time it was enough to make a call, not anymore. She pushed her hand into her pocket and pulled out the twenty-pence change she’d got from the coffee shop. She dialled her sister’s number, a number she knew all too well. When she greeted her on the other end of the phone the money ran out and Emily was left listening to Katie’s voice shouting abuse before hanging up. She tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat but no avail. It didn’t matter that it rained outside anymore; she pushed open the door and, carrying her rucksack down by her side, walked slowly along the high street in the rain.
How had her life come to this? Why had she chosen to walk in the rain when she could go home and try to sort things out with her family? If they even wanted her to; they were the ones who asked her to go in the first place. She tried to remember a time when Katie had spoken to her like she cared but all she remembered was Katie shouting abuse down the phone a few minutes earlier. On the other side of the high street she sat on a bench and dropped her rucksack at her feet; her tired and weary feet that were wearing down the insoles of her shoes. Someone sat beside her and bent down to tie up his shoe. He didn’t seem to care how close he was to her. Emily looked over and smiled at him. Maybe not everyone was all bad. Then he ran off and it took her a moment to realise that the bag she’d place on the floor was now on his back halfway down the main road. She jumped to her feet and ran after him. Her short legs and weary feet didn’t help the race and eventually she gave up, falling to the floor with great sobs. There was nothing she could do now. She didn’t even have a blanket or a change of clothes. She had learnt the hard way the ways of the street but there was no way out, no Maid Marion to take her away from this life.
A hand pressed down on her shoulder and she turned to look up at a woman who smiled down upon her. A large toothy grin that reached her eyes, a genuine smile that Emily hadn’t seen on anyone in far too long. She didn’t know the woman and yet she allowed her to lift her to her feet and half carry her down the road.