Snow and the Wishing Well (Fallen Tales series)

Chapter 21

Chapter 21
Justin
I lied on my bed, staring at the plain white ceiling. I hadn't left the room for four days, having room service bringing food up when I was hungry. Not once did that little voice inside my head stop. Not once had I stopped thinking about it.
When the door opened, I didn't have to look up to know that it was Sarah.
"Go away, Sarah," I told her even though I knew she wouldn't listen.
"No, Justin. Not this time. I want to take you somewhere."
"Last time you said that, you took me to a lingerie store."
She giggled as if she found all of this funny.
"Well I'm not taking you there."
Rolling my eyes, I said, "I'm not leaving the hotel room."
She groaned, "Come on Justin. Let me do this for you."
I frowned lifting my head to look at her. She looked ready to beg me.
"Why do you even care?" I asked.
"Because I know what it's like to look in a mirror and not recognise the person staring back at you. I'm not going to let you get that far."
Even though I knew that she was trying to guilt trip me, she was right. I didn't want to go back to the kid I once was. Not when I had fix every wall I ever broke.
I sighed, "Okay, give me a minute so I can get dress."
"Okay," she said happily, leaving the room.
This had better be worth it.


"Again, Snow, this wasn't what I had in mind," I told her as she led me into the homeless shelter. The hallway was cold, and the wall looked as if they felt like ice in the coming winter. Each door we walked past, had the same view. Beds on top of beds, and sleeping bodies on them.
She led me to the farthest door, the closest to Michael's office door. I now understood why he was a client. She probably saw him every time she came here. He was convenient. I shook the thought away, knowing that he probably thought the same way about her.
"Okay, Justin, that's Paul, David, Benny, Sandy, Samuel, that's Steve over there," she pointed to the guy in the far corner, "And the most important of them all, this is Billy."
An old man waved and had a warm smile. But his eyes were worn and sad. Taking my hand, she led me to two beds in the corner of the cold room. She sat on the one that sat right in the corner, taking the sleeping bag that lied on it and wrapped it around herself.
"Sit," she said pointing to the bed next to her.
I sighed, giving in. Silence fell between us as she shifted to get comfortable. When she realized, that I was watching her, she asked, "What?"
"Nothing."
"Well, you should get comfortable because it's going to be a long night."
I sighed, lying down. The mattress was rock hard against my back and I didn't have to be a psychic to know that I wouldn't get any sleep.
"Remind me why I'm here again?" I asked, turning my head to see her.
"Because you asked me to trust you, now I want you to do the same."
I frowned, "How do –?"
"Tell me, what happened to you? Why did you run away?" she asked.
I sighed staring up at the ceiling. It was easier to tell her, by not looking at her.
"Remember when I told you that my parents couldn't have kids," I started.
"So what, they had you and there's a little –."
"They didn't have me," I butted in.
She frowned, "What?"
I swallowed. I had never admitted the truth to anyone, not even Blake.
"My birth mother was a maid at Locksley Manner. She abandoned me in the Servant's Hall and being a good friend of my Ma, she took me in."
"So," she croaked with a shrugged. By the look in her eyes she knew why I was so upset. 
"I'm not truly the –."
"Stop," she snapped, "It's not true."
"It's –."
"It's not. It became not true when your mother took you in, and raised you as her own. Trust me, I know something about what are truths and what are lies when it comes to family."
She became more interesting by the second. She was more than just the homeless girl that slept with men for money. Something lied in that mind of hers. She held a secret. A secret that told me that we were more similar than I thought.
An hour past when she fell asleep. It had seemed to come easy to her but for me, sleep was nowhere to be found. She seemed so at peace.
"That's the calmest I've seen her sleep in weeks," Billy stated. I hadn't noticed that he had been watching her sleep as well as me. He sat on the bed in front of her's with his back leaned up against the wall.
"How long have you known her?" I asked him, barely taking my eyes off her.
"For the better part of two years," he said. It was only then that I noticed his Australian accent.
"So you would know her well?"
He shrugged, "You can't really know someone like Snow well. But yes, I –."
"Wait, someone like Snow, what do you mean?" I butted in. Does he mean someone that would sell her body for money?
"Well, Snow is very guarded. The only things that you know about her are the things that she will let you know."
He smiled proudly at her, as if he was looking at his own daughter.
"Why is that?" I asked, tucking a lock of her short black hair behind her ear.
"I guess it's because she's like the rest of us. She's lost everything, and I suppose she's ashamed."
I heard a scoffed behind me, making me frown. I turned and stopped Steve rolling his eyes.
"Want to add something, Steve," Billy snapped.
"That girl is nothing like us," he stated, half a mutter.
"What are you talking about? Of course she is. She's home –."
"So she's got you fooled too. Have you notice her accent? It's the same as his."
I frowned as he added me into their conversation. As they argued, I thought more and more of what he was saying. She diffidently was more than what she seemed.
"You are just a hater, Steve. You can't stand to think that someone could be worse off than you are."
"No, I can't stand when someone chooses to be worse off than they can be. I mean, why are you even here?"
I looked up and realized he was asking me.
"Oh, ah, Sar–Snow brought me. I don't really know why?" I lied.
He scoffed, not accepting my lie.
"Just go to sleep Steve. Stop ruining every body's night."
Just as Billy turned his body and lied down, Steve muttered something to himself. Then to me, he said, "Ask her. I bet she won't even tell you the truth."
Deciding to ignore him, I turned around facing Sarah. Could Steve be telling the truth? I hadn't even noticed her accent. But he was right. Her accent was like mine, upper class.