Destiny Awaits - Based on a true story

Prologue

My fingers drum against the armrest of my chair, nails stabbing the sides as if it is penetrable and not the hardest most uncomfortable thing I have ever had to use on a plane journey.

I twist and untwist my long legs, already falling asleep from the hellish journey, even with all the turbulence and chattering passengers. Even the kid in the seat behind me is bored out of their mind, stabbing their toy truck into the back of my frizzy hair as an act of defiance while his mother shouts "i'm gonna count to 10 Michael!!"

Perhaps it's the pants. Yes, it's definitely the pants. My best lucky denim skinny jeans(courtesy of my mother's last-minute Yorkshire shopping spree"i'll buy you any clothes but crop tops destiny!")

are tightly knitted to my legs, leaving little to no space for air, or attitude.

I can't prop my legs up on the marble kitchen counter likeI do at home whenever I feel the slightest bit of annoyance, and it doesn't help that the man beside me is perving!

I can just feel myself being undressed with his beady little middle agedeyes.(doesn't he have a daughter around my age in aisle 4?) and no amount of icy glares can resist a set of smug ones back. Sheesh.

I shut my eyelids slowly, allowing everything around me to brew into a comforting silence,

the bubble of families melts away, the man next to me dissipates and the automated announcements become nothing but a mild hum of the birds.

I imagine myself, finally on land. my shoes on the usual brittle ground of my home, everything is back to normal. Midnight is back Home, dad is finally regrowing the garden, and my older sister, Nia has finally returned home from her writer's convention.

"We, have arrived at...London."

I jerk forward in my seat at the sound of the tannoy. My eyes flutter open to see little splashes of grey color tinting the window seat next to avert man who's thankfully asleep. The sky was once almost cornflower blue before I fell asleep.

The rain is spitting down in it's hundreds, draping all the windows in glossy, rolling tears. It was like looking at a glass shower door but at the highest water pressure. Damn! I am not looking forward to going out into all of that.

"First-time in London?" The pervy man gurgles suddenly, now fully awake from the rain.

"You could say that," I mumble, allowing my long bangs to hide my confused expression, knitted brows, and all. Why is this man suddenly talking to me?

"hmm, where are you from eh?"

"Huh?"

"Y'knowlike ethnicity wise."

I clunk back into my seat.

Well, that's a no brainer. I'm from the west indies but my main heritage is Jamaican, Dad is Jamaican and his other half is from Barbados in the west indies while my mum is just south Indian and partially Jamaican. So I guess it's best to just say I'm West Indian.

"WestIndian."

The man does a double take at me, sucking in all my features before his frown adjusts into a weird smile, nodding his head back and forth as if everything in the world finally makes sense to him now.

"Aaah, all makes sense now." He grins.

"Was wondering where you were from, knew you were quite ethnic."

"Do my clothes scream ethnic too?" I asked him politely and the tips of his eyes flushed a bright pink.

He kind oflooks like a gerbil. Pervy guy turns his back to me, looking outside the window as if in all that rain there is something worth looking at.