The Secret Life Of Yousria.

3

"Breath it all in Yousria, you made it out of Alex alive!" Yousria said to herself as she laid her first steps in Florida. Her uncle was there, he found her the second she entered the airport, but not as she expected with a sign with her name on it, he knew her, he actually seemed thrilled to see her. "Yousria! My dear welcome." He said as he hugged her tight. She didn't know him at all it was certainly awkward and weird. "Now we're heading home where you'll meet my son Jermy and my wife Carol; I'm sure they'll love you and hopefully you will like them as well." He said cheerfully, Yousria on the other hand only gave a nod and a faint smile trying not to seem too rude. Her uncle seemed to not notice her lack of words, or maybe just didn't mind and he went on talking. "My son Jermy is same age as you, he's such a smart boy but he's a little bit shy, I mean high school wasn't all that fun for him." "Oh, I see." Was all Yousria managed to say. The man tried to make a conversation go besides that one about his son, but Yousria still wasn't able to fully communicate, so he eventually gave up and turned on the radio. She was a little shocked by the way her uncle treated her as if he knew her since forever.  

"Carol, we're home." He said as they entered the apartment. It was a huge one unlike any of the ones back in Alex. The ceiling was pretty high that was the first thing she noticed. The walls were painted in plain white-luxurious plain white, from where she stood she couldn't see any bedrooms, but she could see the kitchen it was an American opened kitchen painted in dark red, the color in fact shocked her; with all this white she almost got the feel they were trying to make it seem heaven, now this red kitchen is a piece of hell added to their version of heaven. "Maybe it's not heaven they're trying to make, it's judgment day." She thought. They were standing in the middle of what seemed like the living room; there was a leather couch placed in exactly the middle of the room in front of the 72 inch screen TV, in the corners of the room there were 2 grand leather fauteuils, and in the middle they placed a simple black tea table which Yousria thought really matched the leather couch and fauteuils. Carol seemed to not hear her uncle yelling, so he started going further into the apartment and gestured to Yousria to come along. They went through a short aisle heading to the bedrooms' section of the apartment, along the aisle Yousria saw a whole lot of family photos hanging on the walls. At the end of the aisle were 4 bedrooms, all doors were closed except for one the one they entered which obviously was her uncle and Carol's room. "Here you are Carol; I've been calling since forever." Her uncle said to Carol. Carol was a tall and graceful woman; she seemed about 45 even though without the faint lines beneath her eyes and on the corners of her face she would almost look 25.  She was blond with sharp blue eyes. She wore a knee short skirt and a beautiful blue colored shirt. From the way Yousria saw her she thought she might be a nice lady.  "I'm sorry Mounir, I didn't hear you calling" Carol said not noticing Yousria. "Oh, how rude of me, Yousria welcome my dear." She said as soon as she noticed her. "Thank you ma'am" Yousria said not sure what to call her. "Ma'am?" Carol said in surprise. "Carol dear, just Carol."  Yousria gave a nod and a smile. "Carol why don't you show Yousria her room?" Mounir suggested. "Sure, come dear." Carol said cheerfully.

2 things Yousria noticed about Mounir and Carol. 1- They were too cheerful. 2-Carol used the word "dear" way too much.

Carol led Yousria to the room opposite to her and Mounir's room and told her this was her room. Carol had told Yousria that the room was originally a study; it was a fairly nice room with a bathroom and a single white bed, a bedside table and a fairly big wardrobe. Yousria loved the room, but was sure it needed a lot more glamour. Carol had offered to help her unpack, but she preferred to unpack her stuff alone so she thanked her and told her she'd be just fine.   

Now Yousria was alone in her new room, she started to wonder how Sammy could hate for her to experience that. With the thought of Sammy she shivered and felt a little guilty for not being even a little bit upset about what happened; she actually felt anger rush through her whenever she thought about him with any sort of pity. He wanted her only raise the kids and be the thankful good wife and that she could not bear. She again wondered how could the little boy who gave her the dream journal when she was little, the one who wanted her to never give up on her dreams turn out being like that. Yousria firmly dismissed the thought of him and went back to unpacking and only thought of how much she was excited.