Friends

Before Hand

The girl screamed as she was struck with a chair leg to the side, the one that had broken from the wooden chair they had been using the day she was born, nine years ago. Probably longer than that. She tried to get up to her feet since the blow had knocked her to the ground, but she was hit again directly in the center of her back, making her cough up blood. She was shaking, near freezing, and absolutely monotoned. Even though she had screamed before, her face was now near emotionless. Not producing a scream on the third hit on the back of her head, though it bashed her off her hands and knees face first into the floor.

"Do you not listen, girl?!" Her dad yelled down at her, spraying spit everywhere though he did not care. She glanced up at him with one eye, the other cheek pressed against the floor, before looking away again. Her dad- her boss- had gotten angry with her. This was the first time she had tried to produce a flip-flop since he asked her to, though it did not come out how he liked.

He continued to lecture her loudly as she laid on the floor, though she did not listen. He was only repeating the same thing he always repeats when she gets punishment. She instead looked around the old rickety wood house. All the wood looked damp, but the whole room was made of wood. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the tables, the chairs. It was a work room after all. Her bedroom.

She made a noise as she was suddenly struck in the shoulder with the wood chair, blood now seeping through her faded blue sleeve that made up her shirt. She fell silent after though, "Are you listening?! You're a whole NINE years old now! I shouldn't have to keep doing this! You should have everything memorized by now- making me enough money to go on!" she felt the wind of him lifting the chair leg again. She only stared across the room when it happened, laying against the damp looking wood floor. She glanced up when not feeling another blow though.

The chair leg was suddenly dropped next to her as the boss dropped it and dusted off his old torn shirt with his hands, "Enough of this. Get this memorized by tomorrow, though you can't use any of my materials," he stared down at her before suddenly walking out of the room and closing the door behind him.

She stared at the door, unmoving. Her light though filthy curls were blocking her vision a bit though she could clearly see it still. It's wood frame, wood handle. He was gone and she was alone again, though this produced an empty feeling in her. She hated being alone, she would rather him come back and produce another punishment. Though she knew if he did anything more, she could not practice shoe making.

She slowly got back up to hands and feet, the position she had got in to try and get away. She did not try to get away from his blows often since it would deal in a bigger punishment, but it was the first reaction she had when hit. Slowly and surely, she stood to her bare feet, walking over to one of the tables afterwards. She sat on the wood chair, and picked up the soul of a shoe, to get back to what she had messed around with too long last time.

Stitch, stitch, stitch, done. One hundred flip-flops, and it was probably only twelve in the morning. She thought the boss would be pleased, though not even this thought made her smile. Nothing really did. Nothing made her frown either. It was very neutral, she was anyways. She suddenly stood from the table and the chair to gather all the shoes and slowly put them on top of a counter made out of soapstone. It was very chipped, especially the corners where the boss had once broken them off to use as punishment.

Slowly and carefully she set them out on the counter, though her shoulder had produced some problems with this since she couldn't patch it up, she did it anyways. She wanted it to look neat for him. It had to look neat for him. She paused though when hearing a small humming outside. She almost would never dare look out the only window in the room she almost never left, but this humming sounded sweet. Something she'd never heard before.

She suddenly started imagining the taste of the humming. It was as if chocolate and honey were mixed with a bit of peanut butter afterwards. She stood there for a few seconds that felt like hours of pure bliss, from a single humming noise. A noise she had never heard- mind you. One she did not think could be produced.

In a sudden bolt she ran over to the window faster than she had ever tried to run away from punishments, to the point where she almost tripped herself on her own feet. She gripped the windowsill to where her knuckles instantly became white while doing so. She spotted a girl, the same level as her since her room was on a first floor.

She stared in amazement at her as she had just started passing the window. It was astonishing to her that she could hear the humming, though it had been dead silent outside. She kept her stare on the girl though. She didn't think that anyone could look that gorgeous. That, beautiful. That, perfect. She didn't even know who this girl was, and yet she was struck harder than a chair leg could ever hit. She stared out that window until the girl was out of sight completely, and the orange smell that followed her disappeared as well.

She stared down that street for the longest time. She imagined the taste of that honey and chocolate mixed with peanut butter. She imagined the oranges in which she smelled like. They would be perfect, just ripe. She didn't even know what a ripe orange looked like but she imagined it. It would of course be this neon orange, brighter than anything.

She had never actually seen another person than her boss, and she imagined them as horrid, ugly creatures. But this one- this one made her smile more than she ever has. She couldn't seem to get rid of the smile that this one girl had caused, that she had only seen once.

She decided that she would stare out her window every chance she got, looking for that person, waiting for that person to show up. She would watch her. She would analyze how she walked, how wide she held her eyes open, what she had everyday- she would write that all down. She would never- ever- approach her though.

She suddenly felt ashamed of herself. If that girl saw something like HER existed- she would probably be disgusted. She would hate her on sight. That girl could not ever see her. Only if it was of desperate times. Only then would be an exception.