Excerpt from Untitled Novel - Ellen's Story
This is an except from the novel I am writing, this part told by a character called Ellen. 19-year-old Ellen and her boyfriend are running away from her estranged mother who tried to kill her. Please note this is a first draft.
I must keep running. My feet are sore, my chest hurts as I breathe in the dust and the straps of my heavy backpack dig into my shoulders. Thunder booms ahead and droplets of rain start to fall. Beads of sweat drip down my face and I can feel the humid heat on my skin. But I must keep running no matter what, until I find him. Then we can get into his car and drive, as far as we can, and get away from it all. I will miss my dad terribly, but the idea of never seeing my mother again almost makes it worth it.
Finally, I see two yellow lights coming towards me in the darkness and I know it's him . He slows down and pulls over, then gets out of the car and I run even faster towards him.
The air in the car is humid and smells very faintly of tobacco. The glowing buttons and numbers on the dashboard provide me with just enough light for me to look over and see his face. Water drips from his dark, curly hair and runs down the side of his neck and makes a damp rim around the collar of his shirt. Opening my mouth to initiate a conversation, my throat chokes up forcing me into a fit of coughing and tears well in my eyes. 'You alright?' he asks, with a concerned look on his face. Little reflections of the street lights shine in his eyes as he leans over and kisses me.
I could barely speak, all I could manage was a small squeak as my coughing fit turned into an emotional breakdown.
'It'll be okay, Ellen, I promise. They will be okay. I promise you. They will' he whispers.
'I'm-I'm-not wo-worried about them,' I insisted. And it was the truth. He turned to me and asked, 'what are you worried about then?'. It took all my strength to utter out the word which answered his question. 'Us.'
Michael chuckles silently to himself and twists his hand around mine. The soft patter of rain on the roof of the cars becomes louder and faster, and he turns up the windshield wipers. 'Ellen,' he says sternly. 'We are going to be just fine. I have the key to my uncle's old apartment, he said we can have it. He doesn't live there anymore. It's a nice little place right in the middle of the city. We'll both get a job, save some money and eventually we can buy another place if we want. We are going to be just fine.'
It's late. The clock on the dashboard says 1:47am and I'm tired. We drive into Newcastle in search of a cheap hotel. Eventually, we give up and Michael parks the car in a shopping center car park. Yawning, I reach down the side of my seat and wind it back, Michael does the same. He pulls two blankets from the back seat and hands me one. I'm still worried, but he gently strokes my hand until my eyelids become heavy and I drift into sleep.
Finally, I see two yellow lights coming towards me in the darkness and I know it's him . He slows down and pulls over, then gets out of the car and I run even faster towards him.
The air in the car is humid and smells very faintly of tobacco. The glowing buttons and numbers on the dashboard provide me with just enough light for me to look over and see his face. Water drips from his dark, curly hair and runs down the side of his neck and makes a damp rim around the collar of his shirt. Opening my mouth to initiate a conversation, my throat chokes up forcing me into a fit of coughing and tears well in my eyes. 'You alright?' he asks, with a concerned look on his face. Little reflections of the street lights shine in his eyes as he leans over and kisses me.
I could barely speak, all I could manage was a small squeak as my coughing fit turned into an emotional breakdown.
'It'll be okay, Ellen, I promise. They will be okay. I promise you. They will' he whispers.
'I'm-I'm-not wo-worried about them,' I insisted. And it was the truth. He turned to me and asked, 'what are you worried about then?'. It took all my strength to utter out the word which answered his question. 'Us.'
Michael chuckles silently to himself and twists his hand around mine. The soft patter of rain on the roof of the cars becomes louder and faster, and he turns up the windshield wipers. 'Ellen,' he says sternly. 'We are going to be just fine. I have the key to my uncle's old apartment, he said we can have it. He doesn't live there anymore. It's a nice little place right in the middle of the city. We'll both get a job, save some money and eventually we can buy another place if we want. We are going to be just fine.'
It's late. The clock on the dashboard says 1:47am and I'm tired. We drive into Newcastle in search of a cheap hotel. Eventually, we give up and Michael parks the car in a shopping center car park. Yawning, I reach down the side of my seat and wind it back, Michael does the same. He pulls two blankets from the back seat and hands me one. I'm still worried, but he gently strokes my hand until my eyelids become heavy and I drift into sleep.
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