lost | jariana

01

Ariana giggled, "Daddy, come play with me!"

"I'm working sweetie," he chuckled as he watched his little girl run around the field behind their house chasing a butterfly.

"You're always working," she stopped, pouting. She saw the butterfly fly away, but she didn't care. She walked onto the porch where Edward was on his laptop, doing who knows what.

"I'm only working to keep you and mommy safe, you know that, right baby?"

The four year old sighed. "I know. But why does anyone want to hurt us? What did we do?"

Edward sympathetically smiled at the small girl, pulling her into his lap. Leaning away from the laptop, he pecked her on the cheek. "Sometimes, Ariana, bad people don't need a reason. They just like to hurt people who may never ever did one bad thing in their life. Like you."

"And they want to hurt me?" Ariana stared up at her father, big doe eyes glistening with worry.

"Not unless they get through me first. Don't you worry mija, I will not let anyone hurt you. Ever."

ariana's pov

I woke up, groaning at the bright sunlight that was streaming through my blinds and onto my face. Grabbing my blanket, I threw it over my head, blocking out the light.

After a couple minutes of trying to fall back asleep, the alarm clock besides my bed rang, making my eyes open once again.

It was 7 am and I didn't start work until 9am, but I had so much to do before. Shoving the blanket off my body, I threw my feet over the edge of my bed, slipping on my pink slippers. I raised my arms above my head, stretching out my back cramps that was caused by my mattress that was wearing out. I could feel the springs on my back while I slept. I looked around the rest of my room, sighing.

My apartment was one of the shabbiest apartment buildings in Los Angeles. It was a studio apartment, with a bed shoved in one corner and the kitchen in the opposite. The only restroom was located next to the kitchen with the closet in the following corner. The wallpaper on the walls were peeling, revealing the concrete behind it. The room was small and shabby, but it was all I could afford.

I moved to Los Angeles about 2 years ago, starting off in the streets until I saved up enough money to move in here. It's an easy pay, but I get what I pay for. The kitchen appliances hardly ever works, the water would always randomly shut off, and there was no air conditioning. Don't ever complain about how hot you are unless you're living in a musty old apartment with no air conditioning and you're in LA weather - it's terrible.

I finally pushed myself off of the bed, making my way to my tiny closet. It didn't hold much, there was only a couple of hooks holding onto my clothes that I managed to pack before running away.

Yep, I'm a runaway. Long story. Clothes weren't really a big deal for me to spend my scarce amount of money on. I would rather spend it on food or paying my rent. I just needed my work uniform and I was good for the day; I mean, I never go out other than work anyways.

Grabbing my blue t-shirt and khaki jeans, I waltzed over to the restroom, delicately hanging my clothes onto the clothing hook, praying that it doesn't drop onto the ground. Another thing I never really bother to buy, proper cleaning supplies. I always end up using the water spilled from my shower and an old towel to clean the floors.

I threw off my pajamas, throwing them inside a hamper I had by the door. Testing the water, God decided to play nice and I stepped inside the cold water, feeling the cool water roll down my body. I scrubbed my dark brown hair with the shampoo and conditioner first. After a couple of minutes, I washed out the soapy substances and began scrubbing my body.