Miss Angel's Innocence

4. Magazines & Blisters

CHAPTER FOUR - MAGAZINES and BLISTERS: 

(Unedited)

P A I G E ' S   P O V :

I approach the officer, whilst reaching into my purse, shuffling around it, until the small leather book, also known as a passport, touches my slim fingers. I pull it out and remove the boarding pass that was conveniently located between the pages, and I stretch my arms placing both the passport and boarding pass, in front of the man. He flips through the pages, and stops at what I assume to be the page with my picture, then he glances up at me nodding, and closing the booklet. He reaches to his right, grabbing hold of a wooden stamp, which he presses into my boarding pass. "You are required to take your shoes off, unless you have flip flops on, but they might still ask you to remove them," I look down at my flats before giving my attention back to him. "Make sure that no devices, larger than a phone are in your bag," he continues, "but if that is the case then put it in a separate bin, meaning, all laptops, iPads, and such must be placed in a different bin. A service dog will be searching you. It is a necessary saftey precaution, please do not pet him." He says, giving the impression that he takes his job seriously. "Thanks." I say in response, kind of interested because no one has ever gone through that so thoroughly before, in fact, I haven't experienced anyone give me instructions at airport security before. He returns my passport and boarding pass, and I take the time to detach it from his grip. His grip was firm at first, but when I reached in to take it, his hold on my things loosened. "Have a nice flight miss," he says, pointing to the security line. 

I use his gesture as directions, and move towards the large section, with lots of machinery and more officers. I nod, and say a quick, "thank you," before heading over to the line, that's length has seemingly increased, every second I wasted. Not wanting to miss my flight, I proceed to it, walking at a steady pace, with some added speed. 

Once I reach the front of the line, I slip off my black flats, grab a grey bin, and pop my somewhat decorative shoes into it. I then place the container down on the table, along with my laptop, and bags. I push my carryons forward, and step aside, moving towards the dull, circular machine, hearing the sounds of my things traveling over the table behind me. 

An officer gestures toward the big machine, which I was now standing in front of. Assuming that he wanted me to step in, I enter it at a steady tempo. Once I was in it, the opening in which I entered, closes in back of me, and I turn to face what I knew was the front. I place my bare feet on the painted white footprints, and raise my hands above my head, with my arms slightly bent. The quick whoosh of the machinery's parts sweep over me, catching me off  guard, making me stumble. It lasted about three seconds before the silver doors automatically open. I quickly regain my balance after a moment and I move towards the exit of this bulky machine. I step out to face a pretty African American woman, who uses one of those handheld metal detectors, or at least I think that's what it is, and waves it over my body quickly. It almost made me slightly dizzy due to the efficiency and speed of her quick movements. "You are good to go," the woman dressed in a blue uniform says in a quiet chirpy voice with a faint smile. I bob my head up and down, nodding, and let my arms drop loosely, and shuffle to the right, in order to retrieve my things. My things begin to pop out of the machine, and worry begins to flood my chest when my purse is not in sight. It is quickly lost when I see it on the other side. Wait, the other side? Panic begins to erupt through me when I see it being carried by a young man with visible muscles. Not buldging muscles or anything, but you could tell he was fit. His eyes roam around before his gaze reaches mine, and I tense as he looks me up and down.

"Is this yours?" He says in a deep tone, making me internally shiver. His gaze slowly travels from my body to the purse, and then back. I slowly walk towards him, and nod while biting my lower lip nervously. Probably sensing my discomfort, he begins speaking in a less intimidating voice. "I'm going to have to check it," he says, making my thoughts wonder and my chest rise up and down faster, what if someone put a gun in my bag? What if someone set me up? My mind races thinking of all the possibilities. The guards deep voice brought me back to the present. "It's just a bottle of sunscreen miss, no need to worry," he says with concern in his expression. My rapid breathing slows. "We will have to through it away," he says seeming to be asking for my permission. "Okay," I squeak, making my cheeks red, in a full on blush. When the sound of the medal can hitting the bottom of the trash reaches my red ears, I grab my bag, and dash away from him. My mind travels back to when I was seven, at the airport, and a man brought a gun, shooting five officers, seriously injuring four of them, and killing one. I shutter at the vivid memory. I avoided airports at all costs because I often had flashbacks, but I thought I was over them, and I certainly didn't want to drive for three days. It's over now, just like a bad dream. I tell myself in attempt to calm myself, and it works. I move my thoughts back to getting my things, ignoring the memory threatening to play again, by shaking my head. I proceed to walk over to the other clump of things that I'm sure people were getting annoyed by.

I speedily grab my laptop, putting it back into my purse, and grab the rest of my stuff, not wanting to further aggravate anyone, or hold the process up anymore. I stride over to a nearby bench, glance down at my Fitbit, and sigh in relief when I see the white numbers telling me that I still had half an hour before the plane would begin to board. Realizing that my hand was over my chest, I pull it away, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I often close my eyes and place my hand on my chest when I am reassured that I am still on point. What? It's a habit. The throbbing of my feet snap me out of my thoughts, and I reach down massaging them. I slide on my flats, and realize I had quite a few blisters. I reach over my body and grab my purse, lazily throwing it over my shoulder, before making my way to a gift shop.

Considering the airport was loaded with them, it only took me about thirty seconds to find a store and locate the necessary equipment for my blisters such as bandaids, and ointment within it. I grab what I believed to be the most fitting purchase for the occasion off the shelf, and pop the six dollar, mini first aid kit on the counter. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a short pile of messy black hair located on a large mans head. Two slim blondes were twirling their hair and popping out their most likely fake butts, giggling. I internally scoff at their ignorance. I then notice how he paid no attention to them. He seemed to be engrossed in a book, no a magazine, ignoring their presence. Although his face was hidden behind a magazine, I could tell that he was looking straight at me. I ignore it, pretending to not notice him. 

Once I paid the young girl at the counter, I whirl around, and I head towards the big glass doors. I walk about three steps, before my foot meets a big wooden block that was probably there to hold the door open. I process that I was about to fall, and begin to prepare for impact, squeezing my eyes shut. My eyebrows scrunch up in confusion, when I realize that I had not experienced my body hitting the hard, cold, tile floor, I open my eyes, to find myself looking into large grey-blue eyes staring back at me. I felt large arms pull me up and I'm left in a state of complete, and utter disbelief. 

Did someone just save me? Well obviously, but still, what on earth just happened?

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Hey ya'll! Sorry about the really cliche ending😳 But anyways I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I really liked writing it obviously! Love u babies!😁

Xoxo - Anni💕😘❤️😊💋