Status: Okay, I've gotten back into writing on this story, finally. It took me a little while to calm down and think, so now I'm hoping to bring chapters that I'm proud of.(:
They Call Her Love
Chapter 6
Annabelle's POV
I woke up, familiar arms wrapped around my waist. The first thing I checked was to see if my clothes were on, because I really didn't remember going to sleep. I smiled, to see that the clothes were intact. Mason's face was nuzzled in my hair, which probably came to his use when Marc and Mitchel decided to open the tent and knock it backwards. Mason and I were slung in the tent, then took 4 gallons of ice water to the face. Mason stood up. He saw the truck across the road. His head tilted a bit to the side when I jolted up.
"I can't go back..." I said, hiding behind Mason as I noticed the curtains move. He looked confused as I snuck away from view of the curtains. My dad never cared where I was, but I didn't want him to come over and demand me from them so he could abuse me for leaving.
"I think there's something we need to talk about...alone," Mason said, storming into the house. I started crying, Mitchel and Marc hugged me and took me into the shade. We sat down and they calmed me. I walked inside into Mason's room. He was staring out of his window at my house.
"Close the door behind you," He said, not turning around. I closed the door and walked behind him. He patted the seat next to him on the window pane and I sat beside him.
"Why do you not want to go home?" He asked, calmly.
"My-my-my dad," I said, looking down.
"What about him?" He asked, putting a hand on my knee.
"H-h-he...hurts me," I said, trying not to say it directly.
"He a-abuses you?" He asked, clearly in disbelief. I nodded. Mason stood up and ran out of the house and across the street. Mrs. Musso saw and pulled me back into the house.
"Honey, he's like his father, hard headed," His mom said, laughing and sitting me on the couch. I nervously looked outside at random points in time. I got nervous and called 911. I told them the address and sooner or later they were loading my dad in cop cars. I ran across the road to where they had police tape up. I ran under it and into my house.
"Miss?" The police officer said, comfortingly. I ignored him, and he said nothing more. I ran farther into my house to see Mason sprawled on the ground, cuts and bruises. They got most of the cuts cleaned up, except for those on his face. Mason handed me the towel with the alcohol on it and I walked to his head and pulled him up into my lap and I cleaned his face up.
“Mason,” I said, rubbing the alcohol on his forehead carefully.
“Annabelle, he’s not going to hurt you anymore.”
“I know, Hun, but he hurt you.”
“I’ll be the last one he ever hurts,” Mason said confidently. His mother walked in the house and cleaned up what she could. Glass was shattered around where Mason was sitting.
“Mrs. Musso?” I asked.
“Yes dear?” She said, lovingly.
“I don’t mean to be rude, not at all but...”
“Dear, don’t worry, what do you need me to do?”
“Can you check my room and see if he messed up anything?” I asked, tending to her son, his head in my lap, my hand dabbing the alcohol on his cuts.
“Yes, I will honey.” She said. She looked down at her son and mouthed ‘Make sure he doesn’t try to do anything.’ I smiled and nodded, as she went up the stairs in a quest to find my room.
“Are you mad at me?” Mason asked, opening his eyes.
“No, but you were being hard headed.” I said, chuckling. I grabbed the ice pack and started beating it to get it to get cold, then I held it on a giant bruise on his cheek. He sat up while I cleaned up the materials they gave me, then walked outside to see neighbors gathering, peeping into the house that was once my father’s. A police officer walked me into the kitchen.
“Just keep the stuff. We need to talk to you about the house and money.”
“Alright.” I said, putting the stuff into a medicine cabinet.
“The house is now entitled to you, considering you’re the daughter. Also the fortune your father has in his bank account is all yours. He’s never coming out of jail again.” The officer said.
“Wait…fortune?” I said, as Mason walked in after getting permission, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Yes, there’s a fortune in his account, I can’t believe he didn’t use it to clean you up.” The officer said.
“Excuse me?” Mason said, tensing up. The officer left, Mason still angry. I was puzzled.
“You already got in one fight today. Do you want to get killed?” I said, chuckling. He calmed down a bit.
“Do you like me or something, cause I don’t really see how that comment could’ve possibly upset you.” I said, looking up at him, holding that pitiful ice pack to his cheek, his head wrapped up as if her were a coma victim.
He looked to the side, what looked like his mind was reeling.
“Yeah.” He said. Looking nervous.
“Wow.” I said, smiling.
“So I take it you don’t want anything to do with me right now,” He said, leaving.
“Mason!” I shouted out the window. He turned to look back at me smiling.
“I like you too.”
I woke up, familiar arms wrapped around my waist. The first thing I checked was to see if my clothes were on, because I really didn't remember going to sleep. I smiled, to see that the clothes were intact. Mason's face was nuzzled in my hair, which probably came to his use when Marc and Mitchel decided to open the tent and knock it backwards. Mason and I were slung in the tent, then took 4 gallons of ice water to the face. Mason stood up. He saw the truck across the road. His head tilted a bit to the side when I jolted up.
"I can't go back..." I said, hiding behind Mason as I noticed the curtains move. He looked confused as I snuck away from view of the curtains. My dad never cared where I was, but I didn't want him to come over and demand me from them so he could abuse me for leaving.
"I think there's something we need to talk about...alone," Mason said, storming into the house. I started crying, Mitchel and Marc hugged me and took me into the shade. We sat down and they calmed me. I walked inside into Mason's room. He was staring out of his window at my house.
"Close the door behind you," He said, not turning around. I closed the door and walked behind him. He patted the seat next to him on the window pane and I sat beside him.
"Why do you not want to go home?" He asked, calmly.
"My-my-my dad," I said, looking down.
"What about him?" He asked, putting a hand on my knee.
"H-h-he...hurts me," I said, trying not to say it directly.
"He a-abuses you?" He asked, clearly in disbelief. I nodded. Mason stood up and ran out of the house and across the street. Mrs. Musso saw and pulled me back into the house.
"Honey, he's like his father, hard headed," His mom said, laughing and sitting me on the couch. I nervously looked outside at random points in time. I got nervous and called 911. I told them the address and sooner or later they were loading my dad in cop cars. I ran across the road to where they had police tape up. I ran under it and into my house.
"Miss?" The police officer said, comfortingly. I ignored him, and he said nothing more. I ran farther into my house to see Mason sprawled on the ground, cuts and bruises. They got most of the cuts cleaned up, except for those on his face. Mason handed me the towel with the alcohol on it and I walked to his head and pulled him up into my lap and I cleaned his face up.
“Mason,” I said, rubbing the alcohol on his forehead carefully.
“Annabelle, he’s not going to hurt you anymore.”
“I know, Hun, but he hurt you.”
“I’ll be the last one he ever hurts,” Mason said confidently. His mother walked in the house and cleaned up what she could. Glass was shattered around where Mason was sitting.
“Mrs. Musso?” I asked.
“Yes dear?” She said, lovingly.
“I don’t mean to be rude, not at all but...”
“Dear, don’t worry, what do you need me to do?”
“Can you check my room and see if he messed up anything?” I asked, tending to her son, his head in my lap, my hand dabbing the alcohol on his cuts.
“Yes, I will honey.” She said. She looked down at her son and mouthed ‘Make sure he doesn’t try to do anything.’ I smiled and nodded, as she went up the stairs in a quest to find my room.
“Are you mad at me?” Mason asked, opening his eyes.
“No, but you were being hard headed.” I said, chuckling. I grabbed the ice pack and started beating it to get it to get cold, then I held it on a giant bruise on his cheek. He sat up while I cleaned up the materials they gave me, then walked outside to see neighbors gathering, peeping into the house that was once my father’s. A police officer walked me into the kitchen.
“Just keep the stuff. We need to talk to you about the house and money.”
“Alright.” I said, putting the stuff into a medicine cabinet.
“The house is now entitled to you, considering you’re the daughter. Also the fortune your father has in his bank account is all yours. He’s never coming out of jail again.” The officer said.
“Wait…fortune?” I said, as Mason walked in after getting permission, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Yes, there’s a fortune in his account, I can’t believe he didn’t use it to clean you up.” The officer said.
“Excuse me?” Mason said, tensing up. The officer left, Mason still angry. I was puzzled.
“You already got in one fight today. Do you want to get killed?” I said, chuckling. He calmed down a bit.
“Do you like me or something, cause I don’t really see how that comment could’ve possibly upset you.” I said, looking up at him, holding that pitiful ice pack to his cheek, his head wrapped up as if her were a coma victim.
He looked to the side, what looked like his mind was reeling.
“Yeah.” He said. Looking nervous.
“Wow.” I said, smiling.
“So I take it you don’t want anything to do with me right now,” He said, leaving.
“Mason!” I shouted out the window. He turned to look back at me smiling.
“I like you too.”
♠ ♠ ♠
2 pages on Word good enough for a comeback? (:I think I may have piggy flu, so I've been home and writing and writing and writing, so I'm glad to say this story may be back.
I'm not for sure yet, because both of my cousins were born, both are home, and one aunt says no visiting for a year (yikes!) and another told me last week that the only occurrence she wouldn't let me see her son is if I get sick, which I am now ):