"AN!" I grumble into my pillow, cursing at my mother in my head. Its the day we leave for the trip, and we're leaving at 6 am. It's 5:30 now. Everyone went to bed last night at 7 so we could get "well rested" for the trip, according to my mother. Sometimes, I really hate that woman. "AN! Get up, get up, get up!" My mother is pounding away at my door, which is irritating the living crap out of me.
Groaning, I roll out of my warm sheets, cringing as my feet hit the cold wood floor.
Running to my door, I fling it open. "What!? What do you want?"
My mother was halfway to the door again, and before she could stop her hand, she punched me in the nose. Yelping, I take a step backward, more from shock then pain. taking my hands away, there's blood, but I don't think it's broken.
"MOM!!! Why are you pounding at my door? It's 5:30!" I say, clutching at my nose. Oddly, it's stopped bleeding already.
"Sweetie, sorry to wake you, but we're leaving in a little while for Salt Lake City. We'll be driving for 4 and a half hours to get there, then we'll find a hotel, go sightseeing, whatever, until check in time at 3. Deal? Oh, and sorry about the nose. Just watch it for a while, you should be fine."
Grumbling, I reply. "Yeah, deal."
Returning to my room, I simply sigh. James, what am I doing?
Walking over to my bed, I grab the packed suitcase that has been residing next to my bed for the past week. Since last week, everyone and everything has been hectic. Mom and dad have been struggling to finish all their work before they left. Ivan and Nicholas have been trying to grab all the music, headphones, and such they can get their hands on.
I, on the other hand, am chillaxing. I had all my clothes and such in one bag, and entertainment in my smaller, 'carry on' bag.
Having nothing else to do, I strip off my pajamas, a baggy t-shirt and shorty shorts, and walk over to my bathroom door.
My bathroom door is next to my closet door. It's painted a gray-blue color, with a white tiled floor. My sink, on my right, is covered in typical girl stuff: earrings, rings, a hairbrush, so on and so forth. On my left is my shower, and in front of me is my toilet.
Going back into my room, I grab my iPod and a towel. Setting on iTunes Radio, I hop in and sigh as the hot water hits my back. Realizing what's playing, I start singing along to George Ezra's Budapest.
Having never been outside of Monticello, except to visit relatives in New Jersey, I was excited and nervous at the same time. I didn't know what to expect. Hoping it wasn't like the road trips I've heard other kids at school talk about, with annoying little brothers, and having to sit in hot and sweaty cars for weeks.
Ignoring the radio, I start thinking about the weather today. Since its late June, I assume it's going to be hot. Thinking to what I haven't packed, I plan on wearing just a simple tank top and shorty shorts.
Shutting off the water and pausing the music, I wrap myself in the towel and walk out.
Going straight into my closet, I dig and look around for the shirt and shorts. Finding nothing, I frown. Walking into my room and to my bed, I see my clothes there. What the hell, I think.
Why are my clothes on my bed?
Who put them there?
Who was in here?
Why did I not hear them?
What?
I know my mom wasn't in here; she left after punching me. Ivan and Nicholas have no reason to be in here. And I know dad has just been running back and forth between our car and the house all morning, stuffing luggage, Bacchus's crate, and other stuff into the backseat.
YOU ARE READING
The Forbidden
Teen FictionIt's almost like a horror story. Andromeda was having the time of her life. She was on a road trip with her family. Boston, Atlanta, Hollywood, all the big cities in the U.S. Then, at a pit stop near Chicago, she is taken. By someone she thought...
