Ally and Elliott

Chapter 1

A/N Bonjour just a speedy thank you for reading! I know it's not that interesting yet but I promise, just keep going, like with everything in life -it will get better soon! x

Things were bad. I could lie and say everything was fine, but I knew better. I was judging by the depressing thoughts I kept having about where I'd be when summer was over, and by my reflection in our ridiculously large mirror.

I kept catching glances of it each time i braved the hallway to visit the bathroom. No matter how hard i tried avoid it, things weren't fine one bit.

My long wavy hair that i once took too much pride in was now matted and contained almost enough crumbs to build an entire cracker.

Evidence of every bowl of pasta I'd made for myself that week stained my pajamas.

Despite the protests from my parents, I was not allowing Hanna to make my dinner. I was more than capable enough to cook my own, as were they.

Even if it was just pasta.

I hadn't bothered to open the curtains for a while either. I knew that looking outside would tempt me to pick up my camera.

Picking up my camera would only remind me of the opportunity I'd had to do the one thing I'd always dreamed of doing.

It was the same opportunity I'd been forced to say no to, all thanks to my parents and their idea of me 'fulfilling my potential'.

There was a gentle tap on the door. I made a faint grunt that vaguely resembled 'come in', I was surprised that the noise managed to escape my mouth. I think I'd nearly forgotten I had the gift of speech.

I rubbbed my eyes.

Hanna's familiar unruly hair that always, despite her best efforts, managed to escape the elastic that failed to hold her curls into a bun on top of her head, appeared from behind the door.

Not long after, the rest of Hanna appeared too.

The rest of Hanna was rather plump, but in a way that somehow made her appear soft and friendly, rather than unattractive.

Although her brow was too often furrowed and her face permanently lined with worry from the life she'd left behind, along with her children, she was pretty.

She worked her butt off every day to feed them and to keep them in education, all so they could have the chance at a good life she'd missed out on.

Despite this hardship, her eyes told another story.

Her eyes held the truth that her appearance hid. They were open and daring, full of life, they twinkled with humour and were wide with honesty. A shade darker than her skin, almost as dark as her hair and whenever she cracked a smile they shone like a bottomless lake under the sun.

They showed telltale signs of the complete contented woman she might have been, had life treated her differently.

"Miss Allison are you going to tell me what is wrong?"

Without a second glance at the food wrappers that littered the edge of my almost as crumby as my hair bed, she smoothed her apron down underneath her before turning her hands palm down and sitting on them.

I noticed she sat this way a lot. It was probably because of her scars.

I sat up and leaned my head against the wall.

"Miss Allison?" she said, almost as gently as her knock.

"I've told you before that the longer you keep problems to yourself, the bigger they get and the bigger they get, the harder it is to get them out."