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Cole's POV

She's sitting on the couch, a forgotten magazine laying besides her and a bag of crisps on her lap, her hand absently bringing food to her mouth whilst he eyes stay fixed on the TV. Only when I close the door does she turn around, a shy smile adorning her face and I'm left speechless. I've seen so many girls in my short life, fat and skinny, beautiful and cute, brunette and blonde, blue and brown eyed. All colours and sizes. And then there's Anastasia. Of course I could physically define her, but then I'm left with her personality and the effect she has on me and, suddenly, putting her in the skinny or green-eyed category seems offensive.

George seems resentful towards her. He hasn't said a word about it but his actions speak enough. A week ago, had I proposed room service he'd have jumped in and auto-invited himself. Today he hasn't, and I strongly suspect it has to do with who I'm sharing my bedroom with. As she continues staring at me, waiting for words to be spoken, I know I'll have to trust her. I've trusted her enough to tell her my secret, I can trust her enough to keep away from trouble.

"Like I promised last night I sent someone to your place." I'm the first to speak, grabbing a snack from the fridge, kicking my shoes off and flopping on the seat next to her. "There hasn't been any dog attack but guards have come along to dislodged people out of their home." Maybe she's used to this too. Judging by her appalled look I'd say she isn't.

"Kick us out of our homes..." she trails off, eyes wondering towards the massive window, taking in the view. We stay like that for a long moment, me staring at her and her staring out of the windows until her orbs start to shine and fill up with water and her hands start trembling. Part of me, the largest part, wants to run out of the room and come back when she's stable again; the other part knows I should do something else. My experience with crying girls is close to non-existent, at least my experience with staying with crying girls is, so when I gingerly wrap my arms around her and pull her closer and she starts sobbing louder the panic inside me grows. Maybe that wasn't the best move.

"We've done nothing to them, we try to live our lives as best as we can manage. Why do they keep on doing this? Why do they keep on attacking and charging at us until we're left with nothing!?" sobs rack her petite body as she speaks.

Because you represent a waste of space to them, because you're worth nothing and the land you occupy could be used to build a privileged zone. Of course I don't tell her that, deep down she must know it but refuses to think human beings could stoop that low. I've seen much worse in other places.

"Have they managed to... kick people out?" she manages to speak through her heavy breathing and tear-stained cheeks.

"They just sent of warnings. People can leave on their own free will or they will be thrown out. They started at the opposite side of where you live, so I figure you still have time and maybe they won't rebuild the whole place." I try to comfort her.

"There are people I know there too" she snuggles closer to me, her hands rubbing her face with my shirt she's wearing to dry it up.

"I figured as much" I smooth her hair back, cuddling her, both of us staring through the window at the street filled up with people buzzing by. I've always found stupid the way humans live, everyday passing in front of the same hotel, never one looking up, never wondering what could be staying behind those walls. The idea of something supernatural seems so impossible to them, like something made to amuse little children. If they looked up now they'd see two people cuddled up and assume we're a couple. They really have no idea about anything.

"How many places have you been to?" she finally breaks the silent but still doesn't look at me, her gleaming eyes surveying the passers underneath.

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