I wake up in the pearly, dark morning. At first, this feels like a normal day. Then, the memories of the past year come flooding in. Tears stream down my cheeks. I see Briton by the door of our hotel room. I look at the painting on the otherwise bare walls of our room. It doesn't help.
Briton seems to notice I'm awake.
"Morning,'' he says, a little solemnly.
''Hmphglm," I grunt.
"Come on, it's six already. We should get going.''
"We should," I say sleepily.
" Poppy, you know that they could catch up with us and, well, we both know that that wouldn't be the best."
I remember why. It happened when my parents died. Well, when they were killed. I should say. My mom worked for some secret service place, and she was working on a case about a n organization of baddies called " The Torn." Somehow they heard of where we lived and they burned our house in the night. My father was killed. My mother and I were fine. That is, until the arsonist shot her in the head while fire men sprayed our house with a big water hose. Then, Briton's family took me in. My mom was friends with his father.
It seems like disaster strikes wherever I go , like I'm a metal rod in a lightning storm.
The Thorn sent an assassin to kill us. Briton and I escape. He's twenty. I'm only eighteen. I'm only eighteen. We then fled to England, where we've bene hiding for three months.
It's late June, my birthday is coming up. Its July nineteenth. Yay... yeah right.
Every day that goes by is a day closer to my death. I can feel it.
"Come on. Let's go get breakfast." says a grinning Briton.
"What are you looking at." I say. He's looking at me with a wide smile on his face .Plus, I feel exposed because I only have a tank top on and a thin shirt,. My pajama pants are really short. All is well, because I'm covered in a thick hotel comforter.
" Your sleepy face," he replies.
"I'm not amused." I say.
"Get up, take a shower, and get dressed. We're leaving the hotel!"
At this, he threw me over his shoulder and plopped me into the bathroom. He left, and closed the door behind him. I stripped off my pajamas and hot in the shower. Man, it felt good!
When I got out and dressed, we packed our few belongings and left this hotel for good.
My stomach growled. We want to a Café called "Nikkie's Café" and ate doughnuts and had coffee.
Then it hit me. I didn't look, but I know he was there. A tall, brawny man that was wearing a nice beige coat and khaki pants. He also had an expensive look beige hat. He was standing outside the shop, smoking.
"I think its time to leave," I say. " We have company . He's been following us, and who knows how many friends he has"
"The one in beige," Briton asks.
I nodded, so as not to bring unwanted attention to myself. We left the shop, and headed for the Metro Station.
"Where are we going," I asked.
"The Metro Station." he replied.
"You know exactly what I mean."
"Further North," he said. "But still in Britan."
As we bought our tickets, I saw the beige hat guy, which I decided to name Bob, get in line behind us. I couldn't possibly let him see the ticket, so I blocked his view by innocently covering the selection with my midriff. I could sense that he was getting annoyed. I didn't dare uncover the city until it was already gone. I wondered what he'd do next. We didn't stick around to find out.
"Nice going," Briton said, out of the ear shot.
"Thank you," I said. "I wanted to call him Bob."
"That's random," Briton said.
"No, we have to call him something, and why not Bob?"
"Good point. Here's our stop. Here's the plan, we go North for a few days, then we go to London."
