It was midnight. I dont know how I knew that. He was holding my hand and I was trying to see through the shrouding darkness. Trying, and failing. There was an unnatural wind that tossed my black hair wildly around my face. Then, a flash of light, and everything vanished.
"The plane will be landing momentarily. Please remain in your seats and turn off all electronic devices."
With a heavy sigh I removed my headphones, the drowning sound of Breaking Benjamin fading away. The one thing that was distracting me from the disaster that was about to hit me head on. Whoever's bright idea this whole "class trip" was, it was a pretty sick joke. Partnering us with people we hated and expecting us to get along...cliques werent made for that. We were meant to be far, far apart.
I was so violently aware of every sound around me. Somewhere there was a baby crying. Behind me a man was snoring, out cold. He'd been asleep practically since ascent. And then there was Mitch. Three rows ahead. Oh, I was ever so alert to his presence.
Ireland. Never had I imagined myself to be jetting off to Ireland. I had a pretty horrible feeling about it all. But then again, who could say? Maybe it would turn out to be even more than I expected.
The airport was bustling with people, coming and going. Running away, or perhaps running home. I sat tight on my plastic chair, swinging my feet lazily below the seat. Mr Pearson was going over his lists, getting ready to buddy us up for the trip. Only my feeble amount of dignity kept me from literally crossing my fingers.
I tugged nervously on the edge of my long sleeved sweatshirt with the other hand. It was sort of like my shield, my protection. Guarding me from the probing eyes of others. The ones that might ask questions, like where the scars had come from. I didnt want to tell them the truth. Didnt want to see the pity, or disgust in their eyes.
Mitch was a few seats away with his friends, laughing and probably planning out their wild nights they would spend in the hotels. Smuggling beer and sneaking in sluts. Partying and drinking and living this fantasy life. While I was dragging dull razors down my wrists. Funny how life plays out sometimes.
"Elaina Howe...and Hallie Nichols."
Go figure. I watched with a silent resolve as a girl with perfect brown curls strutted over to me. I'd never said a word to her, but that didnt mean I didnt know her. Everyone knew Hallie Nichols. It was practically a law.
The head cheerleader sneered at me as she sat down beside me. "This is going to be the best summer of my life," she said. "So you better not mess it up."
What was I saying about how funny life could be? I meant sick. Sick, sadistic, and otherwise worthless.