Nova's Diary

Chapter One

       Nova Evans's diary

6 August. London 4:20 am- I awoke early this morning, about 4 am, after receiving a text from my employer, daft she must be for texting me so early on a weekend. I have yet to read the text, but I can only assume it is work related, as she has both my work and cellphone number. I am currently in front of the telly, though there isn't much on; I have it on an infomercial jewellery channel at the moment for some noise whilst I eat. Rarely do I have time to get a full breakfast in before the morning routines, but today was a glorious exception. This morning I have prepared myself some things leftover in the kitchen, white pudding with poached eggs, toast with cinnamon butter on it, and some cooked mushrooms on the side, my personal favourite. I finished my breakfast in about ten minutes, I must had been incredibly hungry to eat so recklessly. After breakfast I sipped some tea, it had gotten a bit cold, but was still warm enough to be refreshing. It was a peaceful morning, the cooing and cawing of the birds outside, the rising sun becoming my indicator that the day had truly begun. My peace however was cut short by the banging and crashing of drawers sounding in the bedroom. I looked at my watch, it was 5:30 am now, which meant I must have awoken His Royal Highness from his slumber. Just as soon as I let my hand drop onto the couch arm, the bedroom door swung open and there stood Damien, the absolute bane of my existence. He used to be such a loving man, but lately, he has been nothing but a pig. All he does is eat, drink, sleep, and yell. He dares put his hands on me sometimes, however I must restrain myself from fighting back too much, as I hold more strength than he in his drunken stupors, and I do not want to cause him harm. I watched Damien as he crashed around the apartment, yelling about something incoherent, he was obviously hung over. I figured now was a better time than any to read the text my boss had sent me. As I opened my phone, I heard Damien rustling in the fridge, grabbing a bottle of whatever he drinks in the morning, some concoction I dare not even smell. The text was, to my amazement, something pleasant. I had been selected to go on a business trip to Romania, scheduled for this evening. The flight would be about 3 hours, give or take a few minutes. I'd be heading to Brașov, which I haven't a clue what that place may look like, but it sounds... quaint. I will be packing my bags after Damien blacks out or leaves.
6th August. London, 3:09 pm- I have packed my bag, further reading the message, I am stationed at my client's home, for I find strange, but I suppose they must have suggested this. I'm currently sitting on the couch once again, my flight scheduled for 6:00. It is my hopes that Damien will not be back by the time I am gone, but speak of the devil he will appear. Damien came slamming through the front door. Immediately, he spotted my luggage, which sent him on a verbal rampage. He began to scream at me about leaving, how I could not leave him alone, how he had no money to make it by himself. I wanted to laugh, the man had no idea I would be back, and was making an absolute ass of himself. As comical as it was, I kept my face straight and my mouth shut, only moving when he took a nice handful of my hair. I grabbed his wrist, squeezing it with all my force as his face contorted to one of anger, to one of pain. He finally let go, giving me an angry slap across the cheek. How I longed to throw him out of the window, but being on the first floor, that may prove a bit more fatal. He soon stormed back to the bedroom, and I decided it was appropriate to leave a bit earlier than usual. Grabbing my luggage and wallet, I left the apartment silently, rushing down the steps. I texted my boss, asking her to give me some information about my clients. I caught a bus, sitting quietly in the back as I stared down at my phone. After playing a few mind numbing games, a text came through, with it, a photo attachment. I opened it, looking over the information. Two brothers, twins named Draven and Dexter Lucard, wished to buy a property as a summer home in London. Supposedly I was assigned per the request of one of the brothers, and the reason I was to stay so long, is to have them sign papers previous to being in the location of purchase, and that the brothers must have all contact at night. Apparently they both have a skin condition called photosensitivity, but to a very high and near fatal extent if exposed to sunlight. I must have come off as a night person thanks to the bags under my eyes in my company photo. As soon as the bus had stopped at the drop off, I rushed off, looking at my watch. I had plenty of time to grab a bite to eat and dine in, instead of on the plane. As a lawyer, I trained myself to be very punctual, so I always gave myself plenty of time to do things, but nearly 2 hours was still a bit much for me. I went through a quick sandwich shop near the airport, eating and relaxing, before dragging myself over to the airport, going through security and, like a zombie, going through the motions. As soon as I was through security, I sat in the small, uncomfortable chairs, wasting as much time as I could on my phone before my flight was called.