Arranged Marriage - Shawn Mendes

1

I scurry around my room, packing all of the necessary things I need to survive for; clothes; food; phone; charger; money. I hear my step-father walking well, stomping up the stairs, coming closer and closer to my room. Why did my mum ever decide to marry that monster?

She was kind, loving and sweet. Well, that was before he came along. He changed her. Before, she never touched alcohol, now she's an alcoholic. She went to church with me every Sunday, now she thinks being religious is a sin. Everything has changed, and that is why I have decided to run away. I would have brought my brother, but he got the lucky side of the stick and got my dad.

My dad. Dominic Winsley. One of the most genuine and nice people I know. Unlike some people in this pear-shaped family.

I quickly rattle with the window, it won't budge. Stupid locks good-for-nothing lowlifes. I quickly grab my old broken laptop and throw it at my window, realizing that it won't work soon, I decide to go to my closet and get my baseball bat- I stole it off Garett yesterday, because I somehow knew this was going to happen.

The glass shatters, sending a big screeching crack through the house, along with thousands of little pieces of glass shattering beneath my feet.

My door handle begins wiggle and thrash, my breathing gets faster as I grab my rucksack and chuck it out my window onto the rose bush below. The door is getting more thrashed around. I quickly climb out my broken window, I jump down, avoiding the bush. Thank God that Garett doesn't work, so he can't even afford a two story house.

I turn around looking back as hear bangs and shouts coming from my room, soon followed by screams and profanities.

I turn the corner and head to the woods, a place where they won't find me- they probably wouldn't even bother.

"Where the fúck is she?" I suck in my breath, attempting not to fall out the large oak tree I'm perched in. "How the fúck am I supposed to know?" A voice hisses back, "just pan out the area, she can't have gone that far she's not that fast" and that was the venomous voices of my drunk mother and step-father.

This really shows how little they know about me.

If they knew me, they would know that I'm on the cross country and track team. If they knew me they would look straight up this tree. But they don't. So they don't know where to look.

I scramble down the tree. It's the next morning, the sun is just rising making the sky have a pink and yellow undertone to it. I run through the woods, trying not to trip over the numerous twigs and sticks scattered over the muddy woodland ground.

I continue to run as the branches snap underneath my feet. My breathing is heavy and uneven. My cheeks are hot and my legs are starting to hurt due to the lactic acid flowing through them.

"Hello miss," the old woman behind the counter smiled a sad smile to me, "one ticket to Manchester" I speak as she nods, typing away in her computer, "ok that will be thirty two pounds and fifty pence" she read off her computer as I nodded giving her the exact change, "you want to head to platform three" she pointed over to where people were crowded, "thank you" I smile taking the ticket out of her hand.

I slip my headphones on my head as i turn on my phone and pull out my charger. Thankfully, there was charging plugs where I could charge my phone.

I pull my hood up as a walk off the platform. I walk past lots of people scurrying around, shouting and hollering, or being quiet, minding their own business.

"Hello, do you have any black acoustic guitars?" I question the employee of a quaint little music store, "yes we do, have you played before?" He raises his eyebrow as I smile and nod "my dad taught me" I quickly look down avoiding his eye contact. "Ok, here we are" I quickly follow him as he points me to them "feel free to play on them" he nods to me as he walks away back to his boss, a large man, with a goatee, and a round beer belly.

I relax into the little black leather stool as I pick up the guitar and strum the chords to 'Fire And Gold' by Bea Miller.

"Like an astronaut that's scared of heights"

"With a heart that's beating at the speed of light"

"You've been waiting for this feeling all your life"

Sometimes I wish my mum didn't marry him. Sometimes I wish she didn't cheat on my dad. Sometimes I wish I could have a good stable family. But no, I got stuck with an appalling mother and an abusive step-father.

I finish by opening my eyes, seeing a tall man with glasses, a predominant lazy eye, thin lips and a full head of hair. "Woah, you're really good" he smiled at me "thanks" I smiled back at him, the employee walks over to me "here you go miss, and here's your change sir" he hands the mysterious man some money, and me a guitar, as I scowled.

"You didn't have to" I send a small smile towards him "no, you have a talent, I have enough money for it" he smiled as I shook my head "no, I'll feel bad" he closed his eyes for a few seconds "I know what you can do" he grabs my hand and pulls me out the store.

Thoughts are rushing through my mind at one hundred miles an hour. Is he going to kidnap me? Will he attack me? What is he going to do?

"Ok, I never got your name" he says as we walk into a hotel lobby, it looks quite expensive: white marble; fancy paintings; a large chandelier; and a huge centrepiece of white and light pink roses.

"The names Florence Winsley" I look over to him "and you are?" I cock my eyebrow at him,

"Andrew Gertler, one of the representatives of Island Records"