Hurricane

Chapter 1

Hi, I'm back! I haven't been writing due to school, but I'm glad to be back. This is a short chapter, sorry. Remember to share this story with your friends and leave comments!! The picture above is her new room by the way and obviously it's not my picture, so creds to whoever's picture this is. :)

-Shar

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I watched the clouds pass and fade through the window. I sat, staring at the floor for a good four hours, bored out my damn mind, before the plane landed with a thud on the runway. I quickly packed my brown duffle bag, preparing to jump ship and run from whatever this 'mom' had in store for me. As soon as the pilot gave the 'all clear' signal, I rose from my seat, slipping my leather jacket over my shoulders, grabbing my duffel, slinging it over my arm and began to walk quickly towards the exit.

I walked, making sure not to be seen by any staff. I made it halfway before a tall, bald man shouted in my direction.

"This way, miss. Madame Tamara Thompson is expecting you." he said gesturing towards where the rest of the staff was neatly beginning to file off.

"Oh, yeah I just need the bathroom." I lied.

"Oh, well there's plenty of bathrooms when we get off the jet. They're all large and much more grandiose than this one, this one is much too small." he stated with a smile.

"Right, of course. Uh, I just need to quickly change a uhm tampon." I lied, hoping he'd buy it. From my experience, whenever a girl talked about periods or tampons in front of or to a guy, it made the whole situation more awkward so they usually backed the fuck off.

"Oh yes, yes. Of course, I apologize, miss. Go ahead" he said pointing at the bathroom, a mortified look beginning to shape on his face.

I gave him a slight smile before turning away, making a bee-line for the bathroom. I walked in knowing it was the bathroom, but if no one had told me, I would've assumed I was mistaken. The walls were lined with fancy granite tile and the sink was a rectangle shape with gold pleating around the edges. The floor was heated, I could distinguish because the soles of my three year old Converse were worn out and very sensitive to hot floors or cold temperatures. The room itself was no small city. It was literally the size of my bedroom back at my last foster home, the one I had to share with Barry, one of my old foster brothers. If the man outside seriously thought this was small compared to the bathrooms off this jet, I was going to have a panic attack when I saw the ones outside the plane.

I flushed the toilet just to make sure anyone who was outside couldn't assume anything. Slinging the duffel back on my shoulders, I slowly and steadily opened the lock and poked my head outside to make sure the coast was clear. I could make out the bald guy from earlier talking to a blond stewardess down the hall.

"Here's my chance" I whispered to myself.

I ran the other direction and out the back emergency door. The glare of the sun hit my eyes and I jumped back in surprise.

"Ahem." said a voice.

"Uh hi." I said, still trying to make out the figure in front of me.

"You're wanted inside. Madame Thompson would like to meet you." said the male voice.

"Well, I think you've got the wrong girl" I tried.

"No, no I do not, Miss Briella Cammalyn Bradley, I most certainly do not have the wrong girl." he said.

"Follow me." he demanded.

I followed him down the back of the runway and into a flat, gray building.