This was what happened to Ella Reed. Or rather, what was left of her. The textbook example of a rich girl gone wrong. Just a few years ago, she had this popular girl status and her family was one of the most valued ones. And she was still a part of it. And now, she was living in a motel that smelled like cheap whores and shit and her bed was hurting her back more than a wooden plank. Of course, she could absolutely afford to live somewhere else. Her backpack was filled with her father’s money she had taken when running away. But Ella was no idiot. She knew more than well that if she got herself a room in Hilton or anything in some major city, her father would find her and though he might not drag her home, he would definitely strip her of every privilege the money gave her. And honestly, invisibility provided by cheap seedy places like this was exactly what the former heiress was looking for.<br/><br/>And so, she was here. A girl alone in the world, looking for something she herself didn’t know how to name. Was it attention? Or affection? Or both? And what exactly the affection was? Ella wouldn’t know since she never got any. Her nannies and maids at home were nice to her, calling her Miss Ella, making all her wishes come true, helping her with homework, choosing the prom dress… All those things that her own mother was supposed to be doing. Yeah, right? Her family home might have seemed like a fairy tale, placing that devious cloud of haze all over the brunette, creating a certain image for her, making everyone think she was a lucky bastard who just had it all. Ask Ella, there was a steep price to pay for being able to savor the perks of the Reed mansion…<br/><br/>When Ella ran away, she had no idea what she would do. Her first attempt to be “a street kid” failed miserably. She tried to steal for the very first time in her life and ended up running from the police. Now that was something, wasn’t it? Thank god for her good form, otherwise, she would definitely spend that night in jail. Yet the adrenaline rush put color in her cheeks, made them grow all crimson and healthy. It caused air to run through her lungs and oddly enough, Ella never felt more alive.<br/><br/>She was still a minor then but her looks helped her to get her way until reaching sweet 21. Her face looked mature and when she added a good deal of makeup, she would pass for an adult any time. Plus, one thing was now very clear to her. People absolutely don’t care about kids on the streets. They would give or sell you anything just to get rid of you. That was actually what helped Ella the most. That and not being used to any attention so she basically fell right in with the street rats. And while she knew that was definitely not the full experience, a part of her was pretty much okay with her life. Until very recently when reaching in her bag to grab her greens started to take longer and the actual stash was wearing thinner and thinner. Without having any sort of income and just paying and paying for the necessities, it was bound to happen and that very morning, Ella realized she was cutting it close. The choice was clear, either she had to get more money, which was hard since there was not much she could actually do, or she had to leave the piss-stained motel and figure things out. That easy.<br/><br/>Rolling up the collar of her leather jacket up, she left her room and locked, checking and double checking the door. One never knew what kind of individuals were lurking in the shadow of the peering morning and while she was only about to grab the stale disgusting breakfast, it might be just enough time for any petty thief or a lost loser like her to break in and go through her stuff. And while there was nothing extra valuable there anyway, Ella would prefer to keep all her belongings, thank you very much.<br/><br/>The room looked just like it always did. Sometimes Ella suspected it was one of those kiddie play rooms where they could pretend they were at the shop or in a hotel and pretend to have their breakfast which were nothing but a piece of cardboard and plastic. The cereal tasted that way anyway and her first few times, Ella had to make sure she was actually not eating toys and props. But one can get used to anything, right? Old cereal and coffee that was only called so due to its color and faint waft of bitterness became a firm part of her morning routine and after some time, it was better than nothing.<br/><br/>But wait, the room was not the same as every morning. How did she know? Simple. Usually she enjoyed the silent solitude of the place, sitting in that deafening silence while she frowned upon the god-awful breakfast. She was not alone now. Not that she was eager to socialize, quite the contrary. The stranger definitely disrupted the morning picture of loneliness. The others just came and went, never stayed too long. He did. For some reason, he did.<br/><br/>Ella grabbed her usual seat and kicked her booted feet up on the table which looked way worse than the sole of her knee high boots. Her long fingers clutched the coffee cup and her nails, covered in chipped black nail polish, were in contrast with the tarnish, yellow-ish cups which used to be snow-white probably a century ago. Thick layer of makeup and black kayal stick around her eyes were supposed to mask how tired she actually was and she brought the cup to her lips, sipping it slowly as if it was hot. Yeah, as if…<b>“Jesus fuck…”</b>she mumbled, wincing over the way too acid taste of the liquid.<b>“So it can get worse…”</b>she kept grumbling, mostly to herself. Every now and then, her eyes slid over the stranger and her anxiety was peaking, making her nails clatter against the coffee cup which was one of the very few sounds inside. Soon a filter of a cigarette found her lips and her thumb flicked over the lighter, lighting up the cherry at the end of the cancer stick. Nicotine entered her lungs with the first long drag and she exhaled after a few seconds, as if trying to hide in a cloud of smoke spiraling from the left corner of her lips.