1| ąrmed

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1| ąrmed

The smell of gun powder was evident in the air, and it reminded me of the terrible things that were occurring outside my home. I cautiously step over to the window, making sure not to be seen. The first thing that catches my attention is all the guards holding guns, aiming out into the distance.

It makes me sick, all this fighting. I want it to stop. I never understood why our family were always attacked. My father never told me as a child, and now, a mature eighteen year old, I still didn't know the exact reason behind all the guards that roamed around the outside of my home. I was sure it was because of my fathers wealth, and people attempted to take it from him. That was the main reason to why our house was so isolated from others. Tall trees surrounding our home, which made it impossible for any gunshots to be heard.

I watch as a guard fires a loud gunshot, making me flinch. A young man, maybe in his early twenties, ducks out of the way of the bullet, but another shot is fired and this time, it pierces his ink-covered arm. The boy barely shows any pain, besides a small wince on his pretty face, and he shoot with his own gun. One of the guards immediately falls to the ground, dead.

The boys eyes are drawn up to the window, meeting my own. He is quiet attractive with his green eyes and his curls pulled back with a thin bandana. I feel my heart beat fast and quickly step out of the view, my long, blonde hair trailing behind me. I stay with my back to the wall, breathing deeply and steadily. I slowly peak my head out the window again, but this time, the boy isn't in sight. 

"Alice!" The loud boom of my fathers voice startles me. I prepare myself for facing him in a few seconds, the bedroom door is swung open violently and my father steps in with a displeased look on his face.

"I told you to not watch outside!" He roars, trudging over to the window and drawing the curtains harshly together. 

"What's happening out there? Is that guard dead? Is that boy dead?" I ask immediately. He frowns at me.

"Yes, that guard is dead. And that boy has escaped. Why do you care so much about that boy, anyway?" He asks curiously, but still obviously angry.

"No reason, he's the guy who attacked my home so I might as well know his status; alive or dead."

My father shakes his head before exiting my room. As soon as he leaves, I slowly peak out the window one last time. 

***

When I awake in the morning, the first thing I do is jump out of bed and run over to the window. I grab the bottom of the window and pull it up with all my strength- which was none. But the window slowly slides up anyway, and the cool air invades my room. I breathe in, and can smell the smoke from last nights attack.

I can't help but wonder; who is that boy? What does he want? And is he still alive? My thoughts are cut off by the sound of footsteps approaching my bedroom door. I know immediately who it was. It couldn't be my father, as he was barely home in the morning.

There was a light knock on the door, so light that you have to listen closely to hear it. "Come in!" I shout, staring into my vanity mirror and running my fingers through my blonde hair. l always had quite voluminous hair made up of mostly curls. I used to absolutely hate it when I was younger, and always tried to straighten it until it nearly broke off. But now, I've learned to embrace them. I haven't touched the hair straightener in years.

The bedroom door slowly swings open and the man dressed in black trousers and a white vest steps inside. Jones, the butler.

"Good morning Miss Lording," Jones says, his voice all 'fancy-like'. 

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