The Journey To Freedom

Chapter Three.

We sat in silence, on a 4 chaired table by the window. He had his headphones on, as did I.

He non-stop typed on his phone and I just gazed out the window.

Who could he possibly be texting this much?

Maybe he has a girlfriend? maybe he's married?

Maybe he's a drug dealer? Maybe he's texting his mum?

You know when you look out the window, music blaring, picturing fake scenarios?
That was me now, picturing who this guy was and the life he had, was he running too?

Focusing on his life gave me a distraction from mine, I liked that.

We occasionally looked at each other, but only briefly. He didn't want to look at me for some reason. I swear I could feel his eyes burning through me when I looked out the window, yet whenever I turned to investigate, he was staring down at his phone.

Maybe I'm going crazy?

I can see his reflection in the window which means I can study him without him noticing.

Wow if anyone heard me say that out loud I really would sound like a real psycho but he just intrigues me and I want to know why. 

I need to know why.

His curly hair was natural and down to his shoulders, the odd curl would drop down onto his face causing him to irritably push it out of his vision.

It amused me how annoyed he seemed to get, like it wasn't his own personal decision to have his hair this long.

He had a chain necklace on underneath his t-shirt but I couldn't quite see what it had on it. It baffles me that a man like this is in my small town of Garston.

Maybe I'm dreaming?

Im sick of the silence, the not knowing where we're going, who I'm with and I feel like I kind of need to know whether I need to start running for my life or not.

"Who are you?" I perk up causing him to finally look away from his phone.

"What?" He questiones such an easy question.

"Who are you? Where are we going? Why do you want me to come with you?" I ask leaning forward onto my two elbows on the table infront of us.

He sighs.

"Princess, you don't want to know who I am."

He leans closer, copying my movements so he's now leaning on his elbows too, centremetres away from my face.

"I'll be whatever your imagination wants me to be, that's the only description of who I am" he smirks, staring deep into my soul, sorry, I mean eyes.

Who the hell is this man?

I'm definitely going to get murdered but here we are I guess.

He grabs one of my rucksacks I've placed on the trains tables and nods his head towards the door, suggesting we're getting off.

I take no time to follow behind him like the lost puppy I am.

I mean at least he's carrying my bag for me, surely a murderer wouldn't do that? He'd just grab me and get it over with?

Unless he wants to trick me? Make it a slow painful death?

My imagination is way too detailed for this world.

"We're gonna stay here in this hostel, make some friends, connections"

He pauses to place a cigarette between his lips before lighting it and taking a single deep breathe.