Most Beautiful Homeless Woman นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The homeless woman let down her bag slowly and asked, "What do you want?" Good. She was cooperating and there was no use using force. He got closer and inquired, "Have you seen Linda around? Red-haired and one of the most beautiful women one could ever come across" She took a step backwards and there was a look of surprise on her face. One she wasn't quick to hide and Luca noticed. That was just the woman he wanted. "Name your price and I'll double it, " He assured her and she stared blankly at him. That her life was in the streets meant she needed money and would do anything to get some.

I explained, and she scoffed while rolling her eyes. "You shouldn't be praising another woman in my presence, Xavier. And I'll keep reiterating this: you didn't have to bring her home. I've heard she's a homeless wanderer who roams the streets. You can't be seen with someone like that. You're a public figure. We can easily locate her whenever we need her. Bringing her home..."

(ONE MONTH LATER) ....She makes me wanna get off the road Wish I could turn it off, let it go But she's too fucking beautiful. - "Beautiful" by Michele Morrone ***** In the heart of the woods, far from civilization, a grand, ominous mansion stood tall. The silence was broken only by the occasional cries of agony and despair echoing from deep within. Inside the lavish lounge, a man sat on an opulent chair, sipping wine while gazing at a photograph in his hand. His lips curled into a smile as he studied the image—a woman with flowing brunette hair, her nose scrunched as she held a playful puppy.

Stopping to help her, I realize that she must be homeless. Her clothes are all wet, stained, and tattered. Her amazing, blazing red hair is wet too, and before I could ask her where she was going, she opens the door and I find myself face to face with her. The very first thing I notice is that she is so pale, she looks inhuman.

It wasn't easy. "Are you okay? " I was startled by a hand on my shoulder. A woman smiled down at me and it took everything in me to not cry like a baby. I nodded, " Do you know a place where I can stay? " She gave a nervous smile and looked at me from top to bottom. I knew what she saw. A young woman dressed in clean, good clothes. "Like a homeless shelter? Do you have no home here? " I didn't know what she meant by a shelter but whatever it was, I was homeless and needed a roof above my head.

She finished her story, and I turned to the third woman, hoping to hear her tale. "Well," she began, clearing her throat. "I don’t have a sad story like you guys," She chuckled, itching the back of her neck like she was laughing at herself. "I was arrested for begging in front of government property. I was released a few days later, but I refused to leave because I was tired of being homeless. Prison offered free shelter and, most importantly, free food." She concluded, and everyone burst into laughter. "I’m Jemma," she said, introducing herself.

Nevertheless, he was here, and running away midway through was not his style. Just as he was about to knock on the door, he realized that it was not closed. Through the gap of the door, he could see the bedridden woman. She was sitting up on the bed, and her face was pale. Her long wavy hair fell behind her neck, making her skin look as fair as the snow in winter. She seemed to be smiling faintly, and it was bright. She was breathtaking. It turned out that the most beautiful woman in Sea City could even be so beautiful when she was sick.

It reported that a homeless woman had died from cold and starvation on a street corner in Pinemoor. Her body went undiscovered for several days and was never claimed. The photo accompanying the article showed a blurred, haggard face. It was Vivian. I spared it a brief glance before closing the page without a single ripple of emotion. It was the path she had chosen. She had destroyed her own life, and it had nothing to do with me. I took Savannah's hand and walked into the airport. Sunlight poured through the glass and fell over us, warm and bright. The plane took off, bound for our home. Outside the window, the sky was clear and bright.

The dangerous air that used to radiate off of her was completely gone, replaced by tender affection. "Theodore, you doing okay? Go grab a glass of water," she said with a smile, wiping the sweat from her brow. I shook my head and pointed toward the front of the shop. "Isabelle, that strange lady is back again." Right outside our door, under the shade of a sycamore tree, sat a homeless woman. Her hair was prematurely gray and matted, her skin was caked in grime, and she wore a tattered shirt. She came by every single day, keeping her distance and just staring from afar, never daring to come closer.

As the number of viewers on the livestream grew each night, I felt myself dissolving, reduced to a piece of clockwork machinery designed to leak for a paying audience. Clients rotated in and out of the rooms. What I never expected to see was a familiar figure stepping into my room. It was the village chief, Martin Hansen, who reeked of tobacco. I hadn't imagined him to be part of this, too. I wasn't the only woman here. Whenever I was alone in my room, I could always hear the voices of other women drifting through the walls. Rodrick and Colby had turned this place into a living hell. Before every livestream, Rodrick would forcibly apply some pink cream onto my sensitive bud. Whenever I clamp