Bitch

Chantelle couldn't take it anymore. She'd been missing for days now and she'd still hadn't seen any missing person reports or cops out in the streets looking for her. Did Chantelle's parents really think she'd just ran away? Didn't they actually care? Did they even think about her at night or wish they'd been less harsh on her? Did they wish that on the night Chantelle stormed out of that restaurant they had followed her instead of sitting there and sipping their champagne?

It was around this time that Chantelle started to realize that she really didn't know much about her own blood. Ever since she was a young age her parents had always been away on business. Their job meant commitment and not much time for Chantelle. This meant that she hardly ever even saw her parents unless it was at a fancy party or maybe for a posh dinner.

This was probably why Chantelle was finding it so hard to predict their actions. Anyone else would know immediately what their own parents would do in this situation but Chantelle just didn't have a clue. Her choices were that they'd either just completely given up on their reckless daughter or were currently hysterically racing around the place trying to to report their missing beloved daughter. Maybe there were reports of Chantelle's disappearance but there weren't any in this side of New York yet. Chantelle's guess was just as good as anyone else's. She just had no clue on how her parent's reacted to her disappearance. It was really bugging her as well. Was she really so blind to not even know or even understand her own family?

Chantelle looked over towards Malcom who was currently arguing with a young boy who could have only been around 12 years old. She couldn't be bothered to listen and quite frankly, she didn't care. She knew it was only a matter of time before that Mark guy came back for her. It was only a while before she was allowed to go back home to her parents and back to the perfect life she had before.

Chantelle had never appreciated what she had until now. Everything had been so normal to her and she really didn't think much of it. But now it was all taken away from her she realized that what she had was pretty special. She hadn't had a shower in days and she was currently only wearing them faded old baggy jeans, her dust covered fleece and the old worn T-shirt she had recently brought to replace her ripped dress. She was used to her walk in wardrobe of designer clothes and a whole shelf just full of ridiculously expensive high heels, most of them hardly ever worn more than once.

Right now she was sleeping on the cold wet floor in a crummy old thin sleeping bag that could barely keep out the frore bitter breeze. She was sleeping with the rats and bugs, surrounded by sweating dirty bodies infested with lice or there was even one case where the boy lying next to her had dying from hypothermia. She didn't know what hypothermia was, Malcom had told her about it, but by the looks of it, the disease was pretty bad. She just hoped it wasn't catch able. Was this hypothermia catch able?

Chantelle gazed across at the argument happening. The kid seemed to be quite worked up about something and Malcom was trying desperately to calm him down, running a hand through his stringy brown hair with a grubby hand. He looked about ready to slap some sense into the kid as the young boy started throwing accusations everywhere, pointing repeatedly at a third boy who was watching the argument intensely. Chantelle really didn't know what was going on, it seemed the young boy of twelve was angry about something and it had something to do with the third who just shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

Malcom scolded at the young boy, shaking his head before walking back over to Chantelle, waving them both away angrily with an annoyed expression on his face. That's funny, Chantelle had never seen Malcom angry: he always seemed like the calm and relaxed type but not now. Now something had defiantly pissed him off.

"What's wrong?" Chantelle asked him as Malcom grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder while muttering under his breath.
"Best friends," he breathed. "They're best friends."
Chantelle shrugged. "So? They're friends. Like, big boo hoo, what's it got to do with you?"
Malcom shook his head. "Here's the thing, that guy's friend has gone missing and he's blaming his other best friend whom he's known for as long as he can remember," Malcom explained.
Chantelle frowned. "Then why are you so pissed off?" She asked.
Malcom sighed. "They don't understand what they have. Friendship is meant to be about trust. How could you blame your best friend on something so serious?"
Chantelle looked at him weirdly, Malcom was acting weird over something so simple and so stupid.
"And you're point is?" She asked and Malcom quickly shook his head, waving her away.
"Never mind," he muttered quickly, making Chantelle annoyed.

Malcom seemed to have this rather annoying habit where he'd start a decent conversation but then cut it right off whenever it started to get the slightest bit personal. Chantelle so far knew nothing about the boy other than he was British. That's all she knew about her latest mysterious companion.

Chantelle had learned bits and pieces from various people living in the underpass. She'd learned that Scarlet had come from Philladelphia after being dumped in New York by her former best friend. She'd learnt that Kris had been homeless since the age of twelve and originally came from the posh area of New York, he'd also been the one to get Alexus out of heaps of trouble which Chantelle didn't really know anything about yet. She knew that apparently Aexus used to live in Japan but somehow got mixed up in New York at a very early age. She'd even researched on Edwin whom she barely knew and heard that he used to live in Manhatten before getting kicked out by his parents and walking all the way to New York by himself. But she still didn't know anything about Malcom.

She didn't know where he was from, how long he'd been on the streets or even his second name. All she knew was that he was called Malcom and he'd turned out to be very kind to her for some strange reason. Which frustrated her even more. It would have been better if he'd been cruel and angry towards Chantelle because at least then she'd know if he came from a rough past or not. Like Alexus, Chantelle could tell Alexus had been through a lot by watching her hostility towards other people. Malcom was about as gentle as a butterfly. Until now.

But he just waved the problems away, trying to cover up his anger and acting as though nothing had ever happened. It was like he was trying his best to make sure no one knew anything about him. He wanted to be incomprehensible. And it was annoying.
"We'll have to walk further today," Malcom began, trying to change the subject. "I know a motel somewhere that rents rooms out pretty cheap. I think we've raised enough to be able to sleep comfortable tonight." He gave Chantelle a weak smile. "But that's if they're still selling cheap. Prices may have gone up."
Chantelle lit up at that, finally getting to sleep in a bed after days of lying on the cold floor and suffering horrendous bruises in the morning. It was like a dream come true.
"Does it have a bathroom?" Chantelle asked hopefully, packing up her things quickly in excitement.
Malcom nodded. "Last time I was there they did," he replied. "Things may have changed though." He laughed at Chantelle "You look like you're about to faint," he commented with an amused expression on his face.
"It's like my whole friggin birthday all over again!" She gasped, jumping up and down in excitement.
Although on her birthday she was never expecting to be given a shower or a nice bed to sleep in. She got that everyday at home.
Malcom chuckled at that, shaking his head. "I spoil you," he muttered.
Chantelle grunted, picking up her rucks sack.

Just at that minute Scarlet came towards them, pushing her way through the crowd of heaving bodies. There was a panicked expression on her face and her eyes were wide. Malcom frowned.
"What's wrong Scarlet?" He asked.
"Have you seen Edwin anywhere?" She asked quickly.
Malcom shook his head. "Nope, haven't seen him since yesterday. Did he find Kyle?" he asked, stuffing his dirty hands into his jeans pockets.
Scarlet shook her head frantically. "No, that's the thing though. Edwin got this letter asking him to meet someone at the bridge and we didn't know whether it was Kyle or not."
"Did he go?" Malcom asked curiously.
"I don't know!" Scarlet cried. "But I haven't seen him since he left the kebab shop with that darn letter!"
Malcom shrugged. "So?" He asked. "Maybe it was Kyle."
"Sending Edwin a letter? Malcom, if it was Kyle then why didn't he just come and see Edwin in person?" Scarlet asked.
Malcom shrugged. "Maybe he was busy elsewhere."
Scarlet pinched the bridged of her nose. "Okay, lets put it like this. This is exactly where Kyle was meant to be meeting up with a 'friend' before he went missing. And now Edwin suddenly disappears too after going to the same place?" Scarlet explained. "Doesn't that sound strange to you?"
"So what you're saying is that the message might not be from Kyle?" Malcom went on, "You think it's from someone else?"
Scarlet nodded, "yeah."
Malcom thought about this for a minute, then his brows creased, obviously remembering something important.
"That's interesting" Malcom muttered.
"Why?" Chantelle asked.
"Because them two kids I was just talking to a minute ago told me their friend was missing. That's what they were arguing about," Malcom told them. "And their friend had also received a letter for a meeting up at the bridge."
Chantelle's jaw dropped. "It's the same guy?" She asked and Malcom shrugged.
"Looks like it."
"Then who's sending the letters and where are these kids going?" Chantelle asked.