breaking the truth

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I get up to my room. I don't have a lot of stuff: a few clothes, a picture frame of me, my mom, and him right before her death, my fighter outfit, and the pills.

I stuffed them all in a small bag, making sure to
hide the pills and the fighting outfit, which I'm sure are not permitted to go with my brothers. now thinking about hopefully getting the pills on the plane.

I took two out of the bottle and swallowed them dry because I didn't want to feel the stress of this situation anymore.

I lay there for the rest of the hour, my mind numb, the pain from my ribs coming back and shooting me into the realization that I forgot to pack the make up for the bruises.

Running around my room, packing my makeup bag, just on cue for yet another knock on my door, I lazily opened it back to the bitch.

"Let's go, we will be meeting your oldest brother at the airport," she snapped. Why would he fly here just to fly back to France? I don't question it, not wanting to get any sass back from her.

I just get in the car and don't say anything. I was too invested in wondering if my newfound brothers were going to hurt me just like he did, and why they never looked for me or found me.

"We are here; let's go," she spoke sharply and sarcastically. I looked outside. We weren't just at an airport; we were on a private runway with my brothers.

"I said let's go. I'm not going to wait forever; let's go!" she yelled this time.

Take deep breaths. Chloe. I slowly got out of the car and checked my surroundings, One thing I did learn from Joe is to never go anywhere without an escape plan or knowing your surroundings.

I was distracted coming in here, so I already messed up the first part. I didn't know how to get out of here, but I can still do the second step.

the plain right in front of the car, a man who looked in his late 20s and had tattoos up and down his arms in a suit with no jacket, his hair clean slicked back "Chloé, it's nice to meet you again," he said softly, unlike Mrs. What's her face.

I smiled and just walked around him, one of the bruises brushing against him as I tried to cover my hiss in pain. Looking back at him, he was looking at me with a confused look. It could be because I didn't talk to him or because of the subtle hiss.

I keep walking onto the plain, hoping it is not the latter. I picked a set in the back; it was a single set, insuring that he would not be able to sit next to me.

I don't know why, but he is giving me red flags that he might hurt me, and he sure looks like he can.

I watched him finish up talking to the royal bitch. He turned around and rolled his eyes; I almost had to laugh. I guess I wasn't the only one who didn't enjoy her presence.

When he got on the plane, I realized I never got his name, and he sat in the row right across the aisle.

He looked at me, studying my features. I am studding his He has blue eyes just like mine. His are dull, just like mine too.

I used to have bright blue eyes, but then my mom died, and Dominic started being himself, and we started fighting. My eyes went dull, and I didn't have any light.

His hair was also dark brown like mine; the only difference was that his had a slight curl and looked thick, while mine was thin and straight.

He stopped looking at me and looked down at his computer instead, saying, "My name is André, by the way" he still spoke softly like he didn't want to break me.

I was already broken

I just nodded.

the rest of the plane ride I just stared out of the window; my body wouldn't let me sleep, not next to him. Soon the clouds disappeared, and the lights from cities lit up the now dark scenery.

"Ok, are you ready," he said, standing up.

I didn't react; I just stood up and walked off the plane. "ok then," he said. Maybe I am starting to get under his skin now, and I wonder how long it will take for them to get rid of me.

A black car pulled up, and what looked like a bodyguard/ driver stepped out and said, "Good evening, Mr. King, to the house?"

King, I knew that name, there was no way that my lost brothers were in the French mafia.

"The house," André replied, "are the rest there?" André is now asking questions.

"Yes, they are in the common room." They spoke as if I wasn't there, which I am used to, so I wasn't mad.

I did the same routine of looking out of the window and going into a gated community on a hill to a big house with even more guards. This is going to be hard to sneak out.

I got out of the car, grabbed my bag, and waited for André to say, "You ready to meet the others?" I just nodded, not giving a verbal response.

He led us into the house and up a big flight of steps, where four boys sat looking over when they heard us walk in and ask, "Who is this."