Plane survivors (One Direction Fan Fic)

Jenna's P.O.V







I wonder if unicorns are real?




WHAT ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT JEN, OF COURSE THEY'RE REAL!




But what if I could just fly on one and have no responsibilities or stress for the rest of my life? That'd be awesome.




Oh sorry, didn't realise you were personally stalking my peanut sized brain. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Jenna Bissell, I'm nineteen years old, and I am a retarded child that needs to move out of my parents house, or nevertheless, move out of my child mentality stage.




If you are wondering what I look like, (probably not) I have dirty blonde hair that reaches my thigh, but also, the tips are dyed purple in the layered areas.




BECAUSE YOLO.







Yes, I love emphasising that word to annoy people. Hehe.




I weigh seven stone-two, and I'm your average height for a nineteen year old, which I can't be bothered telling you, or in that case, I haven't measured myself for a good three years.




On the other hand, the reason for me thinking or shall I say creative thinking, is because I need something to take my mind off of my flight I'm catching in two days.




I'm flying from East Midlands airport to Cyprus, on my own as I have no friends. Loner. Not really, I have friends.




Yeah sure you do Jenna..




PLEASE STOP TORMENTING ME PEANUT SIZED BRAIN!




No, it's funny, and plus there's not enough room in your brain to command stop. HAHA.




I was about to think of a good comeback, but all I could think of was 'Go eat your bacon!' Yeah, you go Jenna you did well.. For your mentality of a five year old.




"Jenna, dinners ready hun. Can you set the plates and cutlery for me please, while I dish up?" I knew it was more of a command with the tone in my mothers voice.




"Yeah okay." I replied and skipped-nearly killing myself- down the stairs.




When I reached the bottom, I was greeted with my twelve year old little sister Sammy.




"Hey Jen!" Sammy said whilst hugging me so tight I felt like my lungs would burst out of my Han shell.




I just gave her a sheepish smile and walked into the kitchen, being greeted by my dad reading his newspaper and mum dishing up dinner.




When I finished setting up the plates and cutlery, I felt a bit thirsty, so I was about to grab some apple juice from the fridge, to be disappointed with no more 'special juice'. Yes, I call it that.