Rheostat

Prologue

For as long as I could remember my family had hated me.

So going back to live with them till I reached adulthood wasn't one of the best scenarios I had in mind.

But God knew it was better than living here. Anything is better than here. 'Islington institute', a boarding school in some remote corner of London.

As I packed away the few belongings I owned in my travel bag, my roommates stared at me in envy.

I didn't blame them. Not one bit.

Just a month ago I was in their position glaring daggers at Chloe Dawson, whose family had come to take her back home.

A knock sounded at the door followed by a bush of ginger peeking inside.

"Can you hurry up a bit? The flight is in an hour," Matheo Clarke, asked hesitantly. He gave me a guilty smile showing he didn't mean to rush me but had no other option.

I smiled back knowing it wasn't his fault. And I was just happy to get out of this place. If he told me I would have to walk all the way to the other end of the continent, I would do it with a smile. That's how desperate I was to get out of here.

Making sure I got everything I need, I gave the double bunker bed I had spent the last 9 years in a last glance.

As I walked out of the room, I saw Matheo leaning against the wall, clicking his tongue as he kept checking his watch every minute or two.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I apologized in a low voice noticing his impatient eyes.

"It's alright. Lets get going," Matheo offered taking the duffel bag from my shoulder despite my protest.

I quietly followed him to a sleek car parked right in the middle of the walkway. I wondered how he didn't get in trouble for it. The boarding school was quite strict with its discipline.

Soon we had reached the airport and boarded the plane. Much to Matheo's liking we reached the airport much earlier than he had expected. I was glad because it put him in a good mood.

As we took our seats, ready to take off I abruptly grabbed the nearest object which happened to be the hand of the stranger sitting beside me.

The sudden action seemed to jolt him awake as his eyes shot open and he turned to look at me with obvious detest written on it.

The detest was soon replaced with surprise followed by a small smile.

He looked oddly familiar.

The boy was my age, his brown eyes staring intently at me. I looked away, not willing to initiate a staring contest.

Just as I was contemplating on leaving his hand, he seemed to notice the fear written on my face for he instead of pushing my hand, squeezed it back and went back to his deep slumber.

I was extremely grateful for it. I didn't have good memories associated with flying.

The last time I had been on plane my life had changed for the worst.

And I didn't know if this time was going to be any different.

... ... ...

As I sat there trying to sleep to ease the building anxiety, I couldn't help recalling the events of earlier today.

It felt surreal now that I think about it.

It was like any other day except the first thing in the morning I was called to the headmaster's office.

I was told the man I called father had died earlier this week.

There I met Matheo, who introduced himself as a subordinate of my eldest brother, Stephenzo Black, who had now taken the legal custody of me.

Matheo who sat two rows behind me was sent here to take me to their home.

I knew it made me an awful daughter and human to be happy about my own father's death.

But if his death had brought me freedom from that hell then I regret not praying for his death earlier.

And as these thoughts kept popping up, I soon faded to sleep.

I awoke to the sound of the pilot announcing our arrival.

I looked beside me to see the boy still sleeping. Contemplating on whether or not to wake him up, I decided against it.

Just now realizing I had spent the whole 8 hour flight holding his hand.