The rain was streaming down the windows. Each drop that landed on the metal roof could be heard rolling into the drainpipe. The black night was pierced with a bright flash of lightening followed by the low boom of the thunder. Anne rubbed her hands together as the cold air swirled around her body. As much as she used to love nights like this, now she realized how much cooler the house became. She weighed the idea of lighting a fire, knowing that her money was quickly running out. Sleep would evade her in this cold, so she lit the fire before she could talk herself out of it. Warming herself before the flickering flames, she finally allowed herself to worry...and remember.
Growing up in the lap of luxury, Anne never had to worry about money. She learned the art of kindness and charity at her mother's knee. Her biggest worry was losing weight, a problem that she could never seem to combat. It wasn't until her mother's death, nearly three months ago, that her secure little world began to crumble. The car accident left their driver Franz with a permanent limp, and Anne without her mother. Her stepfather, Max, stood beside her, comforting her during the funeral. Immediately following that horrible day, Max approached her with several sheets of paper. Assuring her that his only goal was to help her during this "troubling time," he asked for her signature. Drowning in sorrow, Anne quickly signed the papers, not bothering to even take the time to read them. That was the beginning of the end.
Wishing now that her mother had shared her own distrust in Max with her, Anne plodded over to the window seat and peered through the rain onto the normally busy street. In the course of two months, Max had managed to empty every account of every penny, including Anne's own trust fund. He had then moved onto the property that the family had owned for generations, selling everything from under her feet. Somehow she had managed to find a thousand dollars as she was kicked out of her house by the new owners, and had found a cheap room to rent. Appealing to her friends, she quickly found out how fickle everyone was as each and every one of them turned her away. Now, here she was, in a freezing cold hovel, wondering where her next meal was coming from, much less her next month's rent. She was utterly alone.
Even though she lacked experience in anything that counted, she realized that she was going to have to find a job of some sort. Straightening her backbone, she decided that she was not going to allow herself to wallow in felling sorry for herself anymore. The fire had quickly filled the room with warmth, and Anne curled up on the mattress on the floor, finally comfortable. She had a habit of reading herself to sleep, so she picked up the trashy historical romance novel the previous occupant had left behind. Letting herself get lost in the story, she slowly fell asleep, the book still in her hands.
Show Topics