Foadie
War Child
All right, I'm pretty shy with my fan fic stories, but I'm going to try! This is a PG-13 to R story, and it might get steamier in later parts. Please tell me if you like it!
The girl stood with a quiet energy that she didn?t let out. In the darkness and flashing lights of the club, her black tube dress outlined every curve of her tall body. Her hair was a little longer than shoulder length, and covered her eyes. She wore tall, clunky black boots that made her even taller, and accented her long, pale legs.
No one noticed her there, standing alone, except me. I?m drawn to those kinds of people, the ones who don?t stand out, yet have the power to. As much as I was condemned to stare at her body, it was her face that made me look. Her eyes were green, like mine, but they were icy, like she was drowning under a frozen river. She had a small nose that was dotted with light freckles, and full dark red lips. She stared out so angrily at the world that it made me shrink back from fear, although she was at the other side of the room.
Whenever the lights hit her, I watched her eyes glitter. Then she moved her arms slightly, and I did a double take. Her upper arms were built, and her lower arms had that muscle that always stands out when you are a drummer. She suddenly, like a black cat, walked towards the bar. She didn?t walk confidently, more like purposefully. Every move she made reminded me of Larry. She was like the feminine version of him, body and soul. Ordering her drink, she scowled when the bartender wouldn?t take his eyes off her chest. He got her the drink, which was Guinness. I began to wonder if she was Larry?s twin sister. Suddenly, she slammed down the glass, and began walking towards me. I knew I hadn?t taken my eyes off her, so she had never looked at me before. Then I realized that she was just heading for the door. I was standing a few feet away from the door, and when she got close, my heart started to pound.
She turned, and our eyes met. Her mouth parted slightly and we just stared at each other. Without warning, a huge, clear teardrop slipped from her left eye and cascaded slowly down her cheek. She turned and ran from the club. I couldn?t believe what had just happened. Did I make her cry? And if so, why? I followed her out the door after my brief thought process had finished befuddling me. I was immediately swallowed into the huge world of New York City?s Friday night. I knew I would never find her now. My first thought when I ran outside was to comfort her, to protect her. But protect her from what? I shook my head, thinking I was crazy. Instead of heading back into the club, I hailed a cab back to the hotel. I?m not good at clubbing by myself. I?m shy, but a people person, so I need someone with me. If Bono or Adam, or even Larry had been with me, I would have definitely confronted the beautiful girl.
Back at the hotel, I told Larry, (who was practicing on his silent snare drum) about the girl.
?She was like the feminine version of you Lawrence,? I said, after I told him the story. ?I just couldn?t understand why she cried when she saw me.?
?Everyone has problems of his or her own,? he said. ?You probably just reminded her of some ex-boyfriend.? But Larry couldn?t help being interested in a girl Edge said was just like him.
Meanwhile, not far away, the girl sat crouched behind dumpsters and trash barrels in a dark alley. Silent tears poured from her eyes. She didn?t make a sound. She had learned to cry that way from many years of experience. All around her, shouts, leers, and curses included her name. She curled into a tight ball, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to think of the young man she had seen today with the gorgeous green eyes that radiated love.
As Bono tried to remember where the hotel was, he heard shouts coming from the alley that loomed in front of him. He was slightly drunk from the night out, but amazingly not trashed. He knew how to handle this, because of his gang experience at home in Ireland. He pressed his back flat against the wall, and then slowly slid down and looked into the alley.
Guys dressed in black were everywhere. They were cursing and yelling, all the while stalking the long alley. From where he was crouched, Bono could see a girl crouched down behind dumpers. Her legs were long and pale, and folded under her. Her hair fell over her face, but in the dim light he could see the tears falling one by one to the ground. Suddenly the obvious leader of the gang, shouted.
?Shut up!?
It became silent. He spoke again.
?We know you are there. But we will leave you for now. When we find you, bitch, you are going to work for the pleasure of every single man here until you bear a thousand devil children inside of you and are thrown on the street bloody and broken.?
Bono couldn?t believe the words that were spoken. In Ireland, the women, even the women in gangs, were treated with more respect than that. Much more. The guys filed out, shouting their last comments that Bono could hardly stand to listen to.
When they were all gone, Bono stood quickly and went to the girl. He crouched besides her so not to scare her.
?Hey.?
She threw her arms over her face and stood with lightning speed. Bono rose slowly.
?Who are you?? Her voice was horse as she ran a fist across her face.
?That doesn?t matter. Are you okay??
?I?m fine, who are you?? she answered roughly.
?Listen,? he said, not responding to her repeated question, ?You are in danger. Why don?t you come with me.?
She stared at him, her icy eyes boreing into his soul. She looked him up and down, taking in his faded jeans, black boots, and black tank top. Her eyes rested on the delicate cross he wore on a silver chain around his neck. She warily met his intense blue eyes.
?Look, I don?t know what world you?re living in, but this isn?t one where people just take off with strangers.?
She turned and began to walk away. He saw scratches on her pale back that leaked dark red blood.
?Wait!? he called.
She turned.
?You?re bleeding!?
?I am and I always will be,? she replied. Then she walked out of the alley.
Bono stared after her, and then slowly walked back to the hotel.
That's all for now. How was it? *runs and hides in her closet with cardboard Larry*
The girl stood with a quiet energy that she didn?t let out. In the darkness and flashing lights of the club, her black tube dress outlined every curve of her tall body. Her hair was a little longer than shoulder length, and covered her eyes. She wore tall, clunky black boots that made her even taller, and accented her long, pale legs.
No one noticed her there, standing alone, except me. I?m drawn to those kinds of people, the ones who don?t stand out, yet have the power to. As much as I was condemned to stare at her body, it was her face that made me look. Her eyes were green, like mine, but they were icy, like she was drowning under a frozen river. She had a small nose that was dotted with light freckles, and full dark red lips. She stared out so angrily at the world that it made me shrink back from fear, although she was at the other side of the room.
Whenever the lights hit her, I watched her eyes glitter. Then she moved her arms slightly, and I did a double take. Her upper arms were built, and her lower arms had that muscle that always stands out when you are a drummer. She suddenly, like a black cat, walked towards the bar. She didn?t walk confidently, more like purposefully. Every move she made reminded me of Larry. She was like the feminine version of him, body and soul. Ordering her drink, she scowled when the bartender wouldn?t take his eyes off her chest. He got her the drink, which was Guinness. I began to wonder if she was Larry?s twin sister. Suddenly, she slammed down the glass, and began walking towards me. I knew I hadn?t taken my eyes off her, so she had never looked at me before. Then I realized that she was just heading for the door. I was standing a few feet away from the door, and when she got close, my heart started to pound.
She turned, and our eyes met. Her mouth parted slightly and we just stared at each other. Without warning, a huge, clear teardrop slipped from her left eye and cascaded slowly down her cheek. She turned and ran from the club. I couldn?t believe what had just happened. Did I make her cry? And if so, why? I followed her out the door after my brief thought process had finished befuddling me. I was immediately swallowed into the huge world of New York City?s Friday night. I knew I would never find her now. My first thought when I ran outside was to comfort her, to protect her. But protect her from what? I shook my head, thinking I was crazy. Instead of heading back into the club, I hailed a cab back to the hotel. I?m not good at clubbing by myself. I?m shy, but a people person, so I need someone with me. If Bono or Adam, or even Larry had been with me, I would have definitely confronted the beautiful girl.
Back at the hotel, I told Larry, (who was practicing on his silent snare drum) about the girl.
?She was like the feminine version of you Lawrence,? I said, after I told him the story. ?I just couldn?t understand why she cried when she saw me.?
?Everyone has problems of his or her own,? he said. ?You probably just reminded her of some ex-boyfriend.? But Larry couldn?t help being interested in a girl Edge said was just like him.
Meanwhile, not far away, the girl sat crouched behind dumpsters and trash barrels in a dark alley. Silent tears poured from her eyes. She didn?t make a sound. She had learned to cry that way from many years of experience. All around her, shouts, leers, and curses included her name. She curled into a tight ball, squeezed her eyes shut, and tried to think of the young man she had seen today with the gorgeous green eyes that radiated love.
As Bono tried to remember where the hotel was, he heard shouts coming from the alley that loomed in front of him. He was slightly drunk from the night out, but amazingly not trashed. He knew how to handle this, because of his gang experience at home in Ireland. He pressed his back flat against the wall, and then slowly slid down and looked into the alley.
Guys dressed in black were everywhere. They were cursing and yelling, all the while stalking the long alley. From where he was crouched, Bono could see a girl crouched down behind dumpers. Her legs were long and pale, and folded under her. Her hair fell over her face, but in the dim light he could see the tears falling one by one to the ground. Suddenly the obvious leader of the gang, shouted.
?Shut up!?
It became silent. He spoke again.
?We know you are there. But we will leave you for now. When we find you, bitch, you are going to work for the pleasure of every single man here until you bear a thousand devil children inside of you and are thrown on the street bloody and broken.?
Bono couldn?t believe the words that were spoken. In Ireland, the women, even the women in gangs, were treated with more respect than that. Much more. The guys filed out, shouting their last comments that Bono could hardly stand to listen to.
When they were all gone, Bono stood quickly and went to the girl. He crouched besides her so not to scare her.
?Hey.?
She threw her arms over her face and stood with lightning speed. Bono rose slowly.
?Who are you?? Her voice was horse as she ran a fist across her face.
?That doesn?t matter. Are you okay??
?I?m fine, who are you?? she answered roughly.
?Listen,? he said, not responding to her repeated question, ?You are in danger. Why don?t you come with me.?
She stared at him, her icy eyes boreing into his soul. She looked him up and down, taking in his faded jeans, black boots, and black tank top. Her eyes rested on the delicate cross he wore on a silver chain around his neck. She warily met his intense blue eyes.
?Look, I don?t know what world you?re living in, but this isn?t one where people just take off with strangers.?
She turned and began to walk away. He saw scratches on her pale back that leaked dark red blood.
?Wait!? he called.
She turned.
?You?re bleeding!?
?I am and I always will be,? she replied. Then she walked out of the alley.
Bono stared after her, and then slowly walked back to the hotel.
That's all for now. How was it? *runs and hides in her closet with cardboard Larry*