S H A D Y

First Impressions

Callum's Point Of View

"I'm not going!" I say for the hundredth time.

"Callum James Baker, you are going and that is final!" My mother screeches.

"Using my full name isn't going to make me change my mind, this is my life, I want to live it my way and make my own decisions!" I moan.

"Your'e decisions are the reason you are a father at 20 years of age!" My mother yells.Her harsh words slice through me.Getting drunk and knocking a girl up wasn't a decision for me, it was more of an impulse action and one too many games of beer pong.

"That's your granddaughter your'e talking about" I say, my voice sounds weak as if what she had just said had wounded me.

"I know and I'm sorry. You know I love Leila, I'm just tired of having this conversation with you. Your father and I want only the best for you. This arranged marriage will work out better than you think it will." My mother says calmly.

"It wont because I don't get to choose who I get to love for the rest of my life. I don't want to be stuck with some rich bitch who I will never love" I growl. The shock on my mothers face told me to turn away and leave before the real fighting began.

Tomorrow has been pinned in as the date of my 'engagement' to an Irish millionaire's daughter, Ashley McCreddin.I have never met her but yet I have to marry her. How fucked up is that.This whole shit idea was arranged by my parents and her parents as part of a business agreement between their companies.My life has been planned off to some rich bitch that I dont know because my parents wanted more money for their business.The more I think about this fucked up plan, the more pissed off I get.I slam my bedroom door like a teenage girl and I sit on my chair pointlessly planning an escape from all this shit
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I don't like airplanes.I don't know why.Its probably due to the fact that over 100 people are jammed into a steel tin that goes into the sky and could fall at any minute causing everyone in the tin to die.Ya thats probably it.I spend most of the flight from Melbourne to Dublin staring at the same fucking magazine stuffed with plastic blondes and photoshopped twigs.Who the fuck buys these magazines.The only reason I have it is because my mother thought it would keep me entertained for the whole 20 hours of this hell hole of a flight.As we edge closer towards Ireland the white clouds in the sky are replaced with black, dull clouds. Great, its going to rain for the whole time Im here.That will definitely liven the atmosphere.Fuck sake, Im going to hate this place.

After getting our luggage, which took years to be taking off the plane and brought into the airport, we take a taxi to go to the McCreddins house called Rosewood Cottage, which is ironic because Rosewood Cottage is a mansion. As the car drives through the huge gold metal gates, and up through the estate I could feel me stomach tighten and I felt like the air was being ripped from my lungs and replaced with poison.I don't want to be here.The taxi moves slowly, but not slow enough, up the long driveway. As the taxi nears the end of the fucking mile-long driveway, the mansion comes into display.Four perfectly white walls form the McCreddin's home.It has too many windows to count. A trail of steps leads the way to the front door. This place looks too classy for me.My feelings towards being here have just gotten a hundred times worse.

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"Mr and Mrs Baker, it is such a pleasure to see you" a tall, sallow woman in a fitted purple dress says while walking towards us as we get out of our taxi.She wears thin rectangular glasses that frame her bright blue eyes.Her brown bob is curled at the ends and it bounces with every step she takes in her black stilettos.She seems posh,really posh.