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Her Favourite Angel

Novel By: Fashionzombie

Asher Williams; a quiet, moody 16-year old with a troubled past and present. He’s been seeing a shrink ever since his brother moved out and he became the main focus of attention for his step-father. Asher is happy being alone; he’s never needed a friend before and doesn’t intend to make any now, but he just can’t help himself.
Lillian Johnson, a shy curious girl with few friends but a big heart. Lillian recently moved from New Zealand to a small town in England, Brookland Heights to live with older brother and attend the near-by school. Lillian has always been the type of girl that keeps to herself and her friends; but with no friends in this town, she’ll have to do with the mysterious Asher Williams; whom her brother introduced her too. Lillian’s curiosity is sparked by Asher’s strange mood-swings and his all about air of privacy; Lillian is desperate to figure him out.
Asher never thought he’d meet a girl like her.
[My first novel- ever. Be nice? :3 ] View table of contents...


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Submitted:Aug 16, 2010    Reads: 600    Comments: 21    Likes: 12   

Y o u ' r e M y F a v o u r i t e A n g e l
C h a p t e r 1.
What would it take, for things to be quiet?
The man sat across from me was your everyday, fairly annoying psychiatrist with cropped black hair and a slightly too big suit and shoes, accompanied with a black leather suitcase and a formal red tie. His eyes were on the small side- and his nose was strangely long, his mouth seemed to be stuck in an unsatisfied tug and hands were forever stuck together in contemplation. He held an air of someone who was ridiculously neat about him - his office reflected this with immaculately piled files, clean white surfaces and abstract paintings of, what was in reality, just a few strokes of grey paint on paper.
The desk was made of glass and silver metal; a lonely plant pot inhabited one corner of the desk, the plastic plant with-in a dull faded green, the flower a near invisible shade of blue. The chair I sat upon was structured so I had no choice but to sit up-right or face having the annoying curve dig uncomfortably into my spine, it was made from a black plastic which the surface of was rough. The guy in front of me however sat in a very comfortable looking cushioned desk chair, made of a soft, crème material.
I stared at him a second longer then suddenly found an interest in the window, it was slightly open and small noises from the outside world could be heard, tempting me to escape from here.
"Mr Williams?" My eyes snapped straight back to him, and he gave me a blank, emotionless face. It was all part of his job, to hide his emotions, never imply anything. When he was satisfied he had my attention he nodded.
"We have 5 minutes left of this session and you have yet to answer any of my questions"he informed me, his boring monotone voice going through one ear and coming out the other, I stared at him for what seemed like an eternity, he just stared right back, his mask didn't even slip under my obvious discouragement.
My eyes slipped from him and back up to the clock, the main focus of my attention for the last half hour. It was only a simple white plastic clock, with the usual pointed black hands, but for that half hour every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday my life revolved around it. 12:28pm; only two more minutes. My eyes fell back to him; he was still watching me, no doubt finding some fault with my behaviour and writing down on his little clip-board to add to my file later.I returned his emotionless look, just staring straight into his eyes, he didn't look away like most did, he just kept the steady eye contact going until a particularly loud click from the clock clinging on the wall told me it was time to go. I rose to my feet and picked my Spitfire cap from the table, stuffing it over my dark head; I shot him an analyzing look before heading towards the plain door and opening it. Before I stepped out into the reception beyond I heard him bid me good-bye in his practised, bland way. I closed the door behind me.
The girl behind the reception desk glanced my way then back down at her papers she was neatly organising into sections. I ignored her and made my way over to the waiting area, a gathering of two sofas and separate chairs, a table stood in-between, littered with various gossip magazines and out-of-date newspapers. I sat down on the edge of a crème sofa, and took my iPod from my pocket, switching it off hold I placed an ear-phone into my left ear and pressed down on play.
I'm not for you
You're not for me
I'll kill you first
You wait and see
You devil undercover
You're not a prince
You're not a friend
You're just a child
And in the end,
You're just one more selfish lover
I frowned as it started half way through the song, skipping the start and the chorus. I pressed forward and dropped the iPod into my lap, hoping I was in the mood for the next song. Hunching forward I trained my eyes on the entrance and waited for a man with dirty blonde hair to walk in with a familiar saunter and a wink at the receptionist.
Please don't go crazy
If I tell you the truth
No, you don't know what happened
And you never will if,
You don't listen to me
While I talk to the wall
My eyes wandered down to the magazines laid out on the table, none of them looked in the slightest bit interesting; either sporting a half-naked lady or some married couple with a big, red star posted on the side saying something like 'Where's the love gone?' . It was depressing just to look at all the tragedies and cheatings that were evidently in the pages of these magazines, no wonder the depression rate was higher in females than males; if this was what they read every day. My musings were interrupted by the predictable entrance of my brother - and surprisingly his best friend, and a young looking girl.
My brother winked at the receptionist and sauntered over to where I was sitting, standing in front of me expectantly.
"Come on Ash!" he said enthusiastically, grinning down at me with his perfect model smile. I held back an embarrassed sigh and stood, catching my iPod and securing it in my pocket.The young girl watched me with a shy interest, standing close behind Peter, my flicked to her hair and it clicked. Peter's sister.
Braden, my brother, turned away from me and walked back to the door, Peter and his sister in tow. I frowned for a moment then moved my own legs to follow them out of the door and into my brother's car. Why were Peter and his sister here? Braden didn't usually bring people along to collect his mental little brother from the shrink.
I sat in the back with Peter's sister while the two best friends sat in the front; laughing rowdily together and talking in slowly increasing volumes. Attempting to drown out the sound of their voices I turned the sound up too full, making sure the only thing touching my ears was the loud voice of Snow Patrol. I pulled the edge of my cap down further over my head and leaned against the car door, accurately aware of the girls' presence, I didn't look her way but I knew she was watching me with that same shy curiosity. I tried not to shift uncomfortably, I needed to keep my body still; stillness always discouraged talking, not to mention shecould probably hear my music word for word even though the earphones were in.
After 10 minutes had passed I came to the conclusion that Braden wasn't taking me back to my house, or rather his old house, he was taking me to his apartment. God knows why, if he didn't let me live there I don't see why he should even take me there to visit. It was no better than leaving me at home with a drunken step-father; he was just rubbing his freedom in my face. But my brother has always been a sore winner, I just lived with it.
The car stopped moving and my eyes flickered up to the window, I could clearly see the tall brick building in which my brothers apartment was housed. Unlike most apartment buildings this one had a parking space at the front for each apartment, the owner apparently being rich and successful decided this would add to the value of the apartments.
Peter and Braden hopped out of the car and I followed suit, switching down the sound on my iPod again and taking one earphone out. Braden locked the car and with a flick of his head told me to go ahead of them and open the apartment. Pressing my teeth together I took the keys from his hand and walked quickly into large, cool building. Ignoring the stares of an old cleaner in green over-alls I opened the door to the fire stairs and started up it. The lift here was famous for being incredibly slow; and no matter what Braden always took the lift, so even if I didn't try I would beat him to the top.
Braden lived on the second to top floor, or the third floor up.The stairs there were bare and boring, only the floor number in big white writing framed with a green background decorated the white walls, a colourful break to endless twisted metal stairs and bare grey doors.
I reached the third floor and opened the door leading out to the two apartments which shared this floor. Like the stairs the corridor had white-walls, but unlike the stairs it owned a red carpet and small paintings of horses and different scenes of an office. Drawing the key out from my pocket I went up to the closest door and pressed the key into it, turning it in the process. A click resounded from the door and I slipped inside the apartment, closing the door behind me.
Braden's apartment was large, and modern.Black and white walls, all seemingly randomly painted, matching black and white sides, glass tables, crème sofa's, abstract paintings and strangely designed ceiling lights.It was hard to imagine someone like Braden living here; he was more into getting drunk than seeming classy. I dropped the keys with a clang onto the glass table in one corner of the room and made my way to my small room in the apartment; even though he refused to let me live here he had the decency to give me my own room when things got too hard.
I pushed the door open and stepped inside the room; unlike the rest of the apartment this seemed a lot more...old. It was the smallest room in this apartment and the walls were painted a greying white.There was a small bed, a thatch chair and a wooden wardrobe, resting on the top of the wardrobe there was a CD player, a pair of silver and black head phones and an aged Kerrang! Magazine.
I slumped onto the bed and rested my back against the wall, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, glad of the temporary quiet of the apartment. I opened my eyes again and looked towards the headphones lying on the wardrobe; just remembering I had been looking for them for a week or two. I wondered where they got too. I took my earphone out and pulled the wire from the iPod; I wrapped the earphones up and pushed them into my pocket.
Hoisting myself off the bed and padded over to the wardrobe and brought the headphones down, ignoring the collected dust I strung them around my neck and fitted the wire into the iPod. Liking the familiar feel of the headphones on my shoulders I let a smile pull at my lips, I returned to the bed and flicked through my iPod, finding a song to test if the headphones were still useful for more than just an accessory.
She said she's no good
With words
But I'm worse
Barely stuttered out "a joke of romantic"
Or stuck to my tongue
Weighed down with words too -
A slam alerted me to the arrival of my brother, I paused my iPod and waited for the inevitable ever since he picked me up and I saw Peter's younger sister.


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