"You're not going, and that's final!" Yelled my middle-aged father, viciously slamming down his silver cutlery.
"We've told you this before; focus on your studies" Calmly chimed in my mother.
"You don't understand!" I began, tears running down my soft cheeks like raindrops.
"The chance of passing this audition was near impossible! Over one hundred thousand girls tried, only 24 of us got in!" I sobbed, head in hands.
"I do not care. Those other girls are not currently attending one of the best colleges in the whole of Italy, with an almost guaranteed place at the University of Turin!" Yells my mother, slamming her palm on the table with rage.
"I'M LEAVING!" I screamed, my words both serious yet unsure.
Silence.
"Daniella, you are a disgrace to our family's name, members, and friends," Began my father, his face burning with rage. I flinched.
"If you leave, you're no daughter of mine." His words pierced through me, and along with the look in his eye, scarred me for life.
Dreams or family? But why did I have to choose? Why should I choose? Those who try to stop you from achieving your dreams are merely obstacles, however I was very sure they had my best interests at heart. It was me or them. I'd spent my whole life living how my parents deemed 'appropriate'. It was time to live; be brave; be selfish.
"Well," I whispered as I rose from my chair.
"I'll be gone by tomorrow morning." I said clearly, trying to hide the slight quiver in my pained voice.
"Good riddance!" I heard my father say as I pulled open the dining room door.
As soon as I was out of sight, I sprinted to my sleek, modern room. Throwing myself onto my comfy desk chair, I googled flights to England from Naples, and clicked the cheapest flight I could find. Despite my family's wealthy status, I personally only had around £10,000 in my bank. I needed to make it last until PopStarUK began filming the following month. The flight began boarding in only 6 hours- I needed to hurry.
Grabbing fistfuls of Moschino, Balmain, and Dior, I began to pack my Louis Vuitton suitcase. I had an entire walk-in-wardrobe to fit in a bag of half my height, so only my favorite items could come. Channel No.5, ghds, and facewash were next to go in. After some prancing around my room, my Louis Vuitton handbag was soon packed with my iPhone, MacBook, Polaroid, Beats, Gucci wallet, and make-up bag. I was all set to go; my life was now my own.
As I stumbled with my heavy luggage down the stairs, I called out for Maria. Thankfully, my family were nowhere to be seen, allowing no awkward confrontation. My chubby butler quickly came running.
"What is it you need, my dear?" She spoke, with a thick Italian accent.
"Please drop me off at the airport." I said, tying up my black, high-top Converse.
"Of course!" She enthusiastically said, pulling my luggage into the garage to one of my family's cars. The only one she's allowed to drive, I might add.
We buckled up and began our journey.
"So which friend is it?" She asked, grinning.
"What?" I questioned.
"Who are we picking up?" She further enquired.
"What? Maria, you put my luggage in the car. I'm leaving. I passed the audition, and I'm following my dreams" I said, staring intently out of the window. She was silent for a moment before speaking:
"My girl is all grown up! I remember when you were just 4..." She went off on a speech (how very Italian), so I quickly chimed out. At least she was happy for me. Excitement and nervousness squirmed around my insides, as my mind wandered to the coming month's events.
"Good luck, Daniella! Follow your dreams, I'll know you'll do just great!" Said Maria, clasping my soft hands in her aging ones.
"Grazie Maria, ciao." I said sadly, kissing both of her cheeks. I rapidly made my way out of the car, and, along with my luggage, ventured into the airport.
Travelling is hard, and airports are scary. However, when you are alone, 17-years-old, and extremely confused, it is around 800 times worse. I almost squealed in delight when I saw the EasyJet luggage station, and practically sprinted there. The queue was rather large; I was used to first class, and we don't ever queue there. I impatiently waited...and waited... and waited.
"Miss, are you sure you're in the right place?" Asked a balding man, who seemed to be accompanied by a short, wrinkly woman.
"Uhm... yes?" I said, dumbfounded. Then I noticed- he was staring at my Louis Vuitton bags. Oh my god.
"Ah... they're fake" I said slowly. He turned back around but I do not think that he believed me. Then it was my turn. I signed in my luggage with a lovely Chinese woman and headed to the security. Surprisingly, nothing went horribly wrong.
When all was done, I still had over 2 hours until I needed to board. It was 9pm, yet I was already starving. I don't suppose I ate much at dinner before I stormed off I thought. I headed over to Pret-A-Manger and picked up a falafel salad, along with some dried mango, and a leafy-green coloured juice. I sat alone, munching on lettuce and watching the previous season of PopStarUK. I had been dancing since the age of 10; ballet, to my parents' knowledge, however in the past 3 years I had begun street dance behind their backs. They didn't approve of almost anything done by the lower-class, and I hated them for it. I had been singing since I could talk. Rapping was one of my newfound hobbies, which, surprisingly, I was rather good at. I'd also written a fair few songs when I was supposed to be studying.
Flight 078 now boarding. The loud voice through the speaker system woke me with a start. I'd finished my food before drifting into a peaceful slumber. I swiftly made my way to the sign in desk, where I was told to enter a tunnel which would take me to the plane. I was not used to this. Not at all! I was used to being escorted to my seat, which was basically a booth, with anything I could possibly want at the press of a shiny button. Now I was stumbling through a dimly lit, crowded tunnel, which was covered in ads for things like life insurance and Pepsi. As I got on the plane I let out a large sigh. I didn't know what I was expecting- I'd only ever taken a single glance into the economy part of a plane. Around 6 people were crammed into a place that I'd previously had all to myself. Nobody said this was going to be easy, Daniella. Stop being such a snob and pull yourself together. I took in a deep breath, before locating my blue-fabric seat and closing my eyes.
"Excuse me, Miss? We are just about to land." Grinned a European air hostess.
"Oh," I muttered, as I readjusted myself. "Thanks." I smiled at her. She returned the smile and strutted back up the aisle. I checked my reflection on my phone screen. My green eyes had a ring of eyeliner and mascara like an emo Saturn. My usually glowing skin was greasy, my soft lips had dried out, and my chocolate hair had come out of its plaits in little tufts. I sighed as I got out a make-up wipe and began cleaning off the mess. I then combed my hair and left it down. As I waited for the plane to land, I plugged in my headphones and listened to some 2NE1.
