Another day walking home, wishing that my life would just spark up and become a little more entertaining.It's my sixteenth birthday today, and having getting my own home is not by best birthday present.Although my other presents have not exactly been great, either.My mom and dad both died when I was two; they were driving home on the mountain road, when a rock slide crashed down the hills and collided with the side of the car, spiralling them down the mountain.They both died on impact.
With only my uncle to look after me, I was with him until the age of twelve.My life wasn't too bad then, getting on with school, tring to ignore the sympathetic look of everyone when I expain my story.On my fifteenth birthday, my uncle was rushed to hospital on account of a heart failure... he died three weeks later.With no other relatives to look after me, I was sent out of my uncle's home, sent back to the Isle of Manhatten, where my old home was.I now live there, working in the local pub as a musician entertainer, earning just enough to pay for the rent, and to eat a scarce amount each day.Lucky for me my uncle and parents had a fair amount of money left over, and I inherited it all from them, but it is slowly dwinding to nothing.
This rough life has given my body the skinny look; being a sixteen year old girl, with B sized cups, and a twenty four waist, and standing at five foot three; choppy flame red hair and stormy grey eyes, this gives me a strange look everywhere I walk, then even stranger when they know my past.Im known as the “Cursed Kid,” everyone believing that its my fault for my family's death, giving me a very minimal amount of friends, and no-one to know my true name.
--*--
My head down, walking through the September fog that blankets the floor, my back aches with the weight of my guitar and school bag pulling me down into the ground.Not paying attention to where I am goin is not the smartest thing to do, especially with my luck, as I trip over something thin and pale stretched out across the floor.I tumble across the ground, the contents of my bag spilling out into the streets and my acoustic guitar rolling across the floor.I clamber to my feet, wincing at the grazes on the palms of my hands where I've tried to stop myself from falling, and look over to the cause of my fall.
Stretching out across the pavement was a figure, iluminated by the light of the street lamps above. Thin clothing, with a frail body and sunken features, he is not exactly the prettiest boy in town. However I collected my stuff, watching his shallow breathing as it comes in ragged gasps, and walk over to him, kneeling so I can see his face under the hood.Pale skin, dry mouth and a set of peircing blue eyes, I find that I can't help but stare until the sound of his shaky voice brought me back to reality:
“Can I help you?” he stutters, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.
“I'm sorry, I didn't see you there” I reply. “Are you alright?”
“Well. considering you just fell on my leg, im pretty damn good for being homeless. No home, no food, life is perfect!” he retaliates, with an edge of spite in his voice.
“Alright, I was just asking. No need to be rude. My Name Is Annabelle, what's yours?”
“I don't know. I can't remember it. I've always been called Echo, so I've kinda stuck with that.”
“Well Echo, would you like to spend the night at my place? It's cold outside, and this fog is only going to get worse.” I then realise what a stupid mistake I have made, I just offered a random stranger to stay at my house! How stupid am I? Yet I still found myself offering this to him, as it just felt right.
“Let me get this straight. You've just met a random stranger, you don't know anything about me, and you are offering me a place to stay. Sure, lets give the stranger a room in our house, so he can bomb the place during the night!”
I twitch at the edge of sarcasm in his voice; he probably thinks I am just messing with him, taking the mick because of his poor life. “Look, do you want a room or not?”
“Wait, are you serious?” His tone of surprise shocked me, as if he wasn't used to someone being serious to him, or any small amount of good fortune.
“Yes, come on, before we catch our death!”
I pull myself to my feet, brush of any the dust on my jacket and trousers, pick up my guitar case and sling it across my shoulder. I then turn to face him and hold out my hand, offering to help him up to his feet.
“I may be homeless, but im not disabled, you don't need to treat me like an old person”
I step away, wondering why I decided to help this guy. He's right, I don't know anything about him, he looks a mes, he smells terrible, he could be someone just trying to steal money! What did I see in him?
--*--
We reach my home, as I open the door and let him in. he takes a couple of steps in, then stare's around, as if trying to look at everything at once. Spiral staircase, 2 three seater sofas with a 36' television and 3 bedrooms upstairs.I laugh at his shocked expression, watching him walk around in circles, as if trying to look at everything at once.I grab his hand and pull him behind me, laughing as he stumbles along trying to keep up as I run up the stairs, leading him to the bedrooms.I stop at the top of the stairs, turn around to se him bent over clutching his stomach, trying to gather his breath.
I notice his tattered clothes for the first time; the frail, ripped shirt hanging loosely across his shoulders; his degraded, tattered shorts that must be at least 3 sizes to small that they barely cover his knees.I then notice his hair: it's a sandy colour, not to dark, not to light, but barely visible under all the cobwebs, dirt and grime that's attatched itself to him.First things first, I think, he needs a shower, and then I will take him clothes shopping tomorrow.
“Showers on the left, you get in then slide your clothes under the door, I'll wash them for you and get you a towel.”
I watch him trudge into the shower, show him what buttons to press, then walk outside as I glimpse a look at his bare skin underneath his tattered remains of a shirt.I wait for his clothes, picking them up from the door, and walk downstairs to put his clothes in the washing mashine as I hear the shower head switched on.I put them in, as well as some of my dirty clothes and start it up, before realising he doesn't have a towel.I grab a towel from the airing cupboard, and head upstairs, only to find the shower door open and my bedroom door unlocked.I rush in, but after the sight of his nacked frame I spin away, covering my eyes and blushing a scralet colour, feeling my face burning with embarressment.
“What are you doing in my room?”I ask, waving the towel in his direction so he could take it, without showing any sings of interest to the fact that there is a naked boy in my bedroom.
“ I'm sorry, I was just looking at your music.”
I feel him take the towel from my hand, then slowly open my eyes and swivel round to find him covered by the towel, his sandy hair all washed and clean, and holding a copy of James Blunt. “Who's this person?”
“Thats James Blunt, one of my favourites.He's quite good, but this isn't the time to be looking at my music display.You need to get to bed to get warm, and then I'll take you shopping tomorrow.We can't have you walking around in those clothes you've got, they bairly even cover you.”
I lead him to the spare bedroom, taking a quick glance at my parent's bedroom, feeling a pang of guilt at my actions.I wonder if they would approve of my decisions?Surely I was only doing what was best, he had no home, no food, I was only doing what I felt was best.With that sense of guilt still wavering inside,I open the door to the spare bedroom; a barren room containing only a bed, a small shelf and stack of empty boxes in the corner.I help him in, making sure he is comfortable before walking out and heading for my room.
“Wait”he says, stopping me in the doorway.
I turn around to find him leaving the bed and walking slowly towards me, his head down, his face crimson.“I wanted to thank you, for everything”I blush at those words, feeling the guilt disappear as fast as it had appeared. Before I know it, he is only standing a few inches away from me, our faces tentatively close, as I feel his warm breath mixing with mine.My thoughts ponder ponder on what he might do, a hug, possibly?It seems right for the situation, I guess.
However as he leans in close, I realise what he is planning; I try to back away, but not nearly quick enough as our lips touch and any ideas of stopping him leave my mind.At this point, time stopped. Everything around me has frozen, the grandfather clock in the hall has stopped ticking, no sounds can be heard from outside, there is just silence, as we stand there, our lips touching delicately and tenderly, as if we are afraid of what might happen if we push the moment any more.He pulls away, his face crimson as time returns and the sound of cars and birds rematerialise out of nowhere.
“That was to say thank you, for everything you've done for me.”
“ You.. You're welcome.” I reply, shaking at that brief, intimate encounter with the stranger in my house.I walk slowly backwards as he remains still, rocking to and fro, as if unsure what to do.I turn and leave, walking as quickly as possibly to my room before I collapse out of sheer amazement.
I close the door to my room behind me, before collapsing onto my bed and thinking about that one kiss the whole night through.The only thought that manages to penetrate my mind apart from his lips was how a boy with such cold skin, such pale features could give a kiss so warm, and so friendly, that made me want to melt into him.With those two thoughts in my mind, I fell into a series of dreams, all seemingly ending with the kiss with the stranger in my house.
--*--
As I wake, I recollect what happened the previous night, as the memories flood my mind and my hands begin to dance beneath the covers, gently rubbing my skin as one slips up my pyjama top and and gently squeezes my breasts.A small moan escaping my lips as I close my eyes and the image of Echo's face fills my body with warmth, as my other hand slides across my pyjama bottoms, caressing the inside of my thigh, before trailing up and rubbing my pussy through fabric of my pyjamas. I pull my bottoms down, and arch my back as I rub my pussy with my hand, feeling the juices leaking out of me and onto my bed.I push one finger in, the two, and begin furiously finger-fucking myself whilst gripping my breasts hard and pulling, alternating between each breasts and tugging my hard nipples away from me as pleasure arcs through my body, rippling across my skin and sending my nerves into haywire.
My fingers rapidly pumping my pussy now, I feel the climax building as I push my thumb into my asshole.The world turns dark, as I moan out loud in ecstasy, and feel my climax spreading through my body, as a small puddle is made on my bedsheets.A loud smashing sound brings me back to reality as I sit up, one hand still on my breast, the other still in my pussy as I see Echo standing there, a look of shock on his face with a smashed plate on the floor and what seem to be bacon and eggs.The realisation that he must have just seen me orgasm hits me, as he runs from my room and I hear a slamming from across the hall, I realise he must have gone into the spare bedroom.How am I going to explain this to him now?
