destined. | h.s

20. disintegrated

Ariella’s P.O.V         

It’s nice to be reconciled with my parents after about three or four months of educating here in London, but somehow, there’s this unexplainable feeling that has been lying around my mind in forever and still not figure it out.

“We’ve decided to take you to Worcestershire instead.” My mother comes out folding in a few clothes to her bag.”Yeah, okay.” And with that answer of mine, Mom and Dad just eye contacted each other, and it’s eerie to see them act like that, and never in my life had this moment, where in every move they do, it makes me think.

And it’s getting to my nerve because I’m undergoing some sort of out of place state.

“Then we need to get going, it’s 10.” Dad announces dragging a few luggages outside. I slid in my coat, and trailed along my parents.

Since, we’re in between the rich and the poor, car is not much of a necessity and we had to ride taxis to get to the bus station. The whole transporting to another transportation process had me a shut mouth, just observed everything with my mom and dad, to get what’s with what I sense.

They barely looked at me, and mom looked like she has large swallowed lumps every time I stare at both of them.

I fell asleep on our bus ride, and for a few hours forgot this. And in the unfortunate moment, I woke up in another station except that it’s our destination.

Then another taxi ride, maybe if I was five I have puked my way here.

I laid my pair of eyes on every building and road we pass by, quite simple, I’d say, but peace. It looked like a beautiful setting back in the 60’s with buildings doubtlessly made of bricks. We looked across a fountain, with a few snow drops settled on it, this place seemed so lovely after all.

After a few more minutes, the voyage has finally ended, in a . . . house. Not what I seemingly thought. I figured it was a hotel, just another strange occurrence.

It was about five that time, yes, and the sun was about to shine it’s light on the other side of the world. Shrub plants covered in ice, with the streetlight illuminating us.

“How are you feeling?” Dad asks before we approach the porch.

“What makes you say that, dad?”

“Nothing.” And he’s eyes were evident to trying to be emotionless. “I’m fine.”

He nods, finally, knocking on the door. I heard steps behind it, and once the creaky sound was heard, a tanned, young lady, with her smile ample with joy, and one way or another, her smile was contagious. Her hair was swaying along with the wind, which I couldn’t help but notice, how the natural colour of both of our hair are so alike, the way her body was formed, but she was shorter than me and for a second I felt like a giant around everybody else.

“Hi.” She jumpily greeted, and again, that something-is-not-so-right feeling had me rethinking all of this, and what’s the connection with the slightest shrugs and the tensed atmosphere.

I am confused by how everything was happening, she hugged both Mom and Dad, and even me, which I estimated was way tighter than what both of my parents had.

“Make yourselves at home.” She said, inviting us inside. The place looked warm and tidy. Nobody else seems to live with the woman here. I got my coat off and sat on the couch for a while. And then, when everybody was settled, they all also took places in the couch.

“So, how old are you Ma’am?” I asked out of inquisitiveness.

“Martina, call me Martina. I’m thirty four.” I nodded, quite astonished, that she looked younger than thirty four.