Reality.

Home not home

Camilla

I looked back at him, defiance flooding over everything. The wheelchair was the only thing that stopped me from bolting. Stuck up, haughty, all the worst adjectives a girl could find in a guy, could only fit Luke Taylor. I glared at that annoyingly handsome face as he pulled out a chair right opposite to me and sat. The nervous cook who had served me moments before scurried back into the room, his hands shaking a little as they placed a large breakfast right in front of Luke, whose face was impassive. The poor guy bowed low and shot back to where he'd come from.

Luke looked as if nothing had happened, twirled his fork around his fingers once and disappeared behind the mound of food.

I couldn't take him any more. My injuries weren't as bad as yesterday's anyway. Those twisted ankles and the bruises were still there, but I didn't acknowledge them as I wheeled myself out of the room in fury, letting the soft tires mark the carpet.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Luke had stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. A sudden burst of adrenaline sent me flying out of the room. My hands spun the wheels of the chair so fast, cramps ran along my hand.

"STOP!" yelled Luke, sprinting out of the room towards me.

I glared back at him and sped down the stairs, pain shooting up my body with every bump. Miraculously, I found myself at the lobby. Opening the front door, I wheeled myself out. I wasn't that accustomed to being in a wheelchair, and kept raising myself up a little, resulting in streaks of pain in my legs as I rolled myself down the great lawn. This time, I kept myself on cement, as wheeling on grass was too dangerous.

A guard was standing by the gate, pompously checking his tie. Maybe he had gone patrolling last night when I fell, for I had never seen him before.

"I demand you let me leave," I sat up a little straighter when I reached him.

"Ah... I have received no orders..." the guard started, planting an involuntary hand on the metal bars on which were stopping me from reaching the outside world.

"Just LET ME GO!"

I turned around to see the small figure of Luke running out the door.

"Then..." the guard was oblivious to the positively screaming Luke as he studied the dazzling smile I was giving him. I knew that smile had to work.

"Fine."

The gate swung open immediately after the guard punched in the code, and I sped out into the day, triumph reigning over my senses.

"CAMILLA!"

His voice made my injured head turn.

"Please..." he panted. "I'll drive you home. Plus, you left your phone."

He waved an indistinct black object in his palm.

I groaned and wheeled myself back towards the house. So much for the chase. And now, with all adrenaline gone, pain panged at each wound and bruise.

I turned myself back through the gate and reached for my phone.

"You really want to go home, do you?" Luke shook his head.

"Yes I do. NOW GIVE ME MY PHONE!"

Luke pulled his hand upward, bringing my annoyance with it. I tried jumping, but my butt was glued to the wheelchair and my feet were too weak too support my weight.

Luke laughed.

"Fine. I will drive you home, but you must give me your number. And your address because I have to bring you there."