No Light

Chapter 5: Frienemie

I awake to my seat thrashing, loud bangs, soft whimpers, and roars of thunder surrounding the airplane I was aboard. I thought I could get some sleep before we landed, but by now it was probably impossible. Sweat beaded on my forehead and slid down my tender olive skin. My charcoal hair was messy and frizzy from staying in such an awkward position for such a long period of time. My forehead was leaning against the window by my seat, my arms crossed, and my legs sprawled out on the seat next to me. I soon recognized I had a red plaid blanket draped over my fragile body, I was in pink nylon shorts that ended at the mid of my knees, they tied quite roughly around my flat stomach, the whiter tank top I was wearing gave a slim glimpse of my belly button. How did I get here? I knew I was on a plane.

It was obvious the pilots were going through some turbulence, those that were not use to flying were crying or preying with hopes they wouldn't go down if the plane were to crash. I knew exactly, where this pane was heading, the question was, where was Miguel and Enrique. I just laid against the window, sighing loudly and pulling the small blanket further up to rest over my shoulders, my eyes focused on the dark clouds that started to form around the plane, a flash of lightening started to engulf the plane itself to an almost look invisible, water droplets started pressing against the window and then slowly sliding down. The silence that spread across the plane made me think to much, I needed something to keep my mind off of things.

Suddenly, I get a tingling sensation at the pit of my stomach, like that feeling you obtain when someone is watching you. I grew increasingly afraid, I hoped up to sit upright, pulling my feet from the seat beside me. Then my feet's place was soon taken by a man, my eyes snapped to meet with his, a dark green, that seemed to mend my very soul. I froze completely, he sat back in the seat and brought the book back up, leabing my eyes to look back at the dancing words across the thin pages. He was rather odd, he had slicked back black hair that ended just above his shoulders, pale skin that could very well compare to a vampires, striking green jungle eyes. He was in the most expensive of clothes, I could say he was a socialite byt the black tuxedo and fancy watches, but he could also pass as a business man. I felt annoyance burst through my every soul and then my ignorance got the best of me. I was not in the mood for this, I wanted to lay down, not sit.

"Excuse me?" I snapped at him, he glared up from his book, a keen smile spreading across his lips, he allowed his hands to fall limply onto his lap in which my eyes followed down his baggy black dress pants to his black leather boots, then back up to his. His teeth were a flawless white.

"Is something wrong?" He asked unchalantly. "I saw the open seat and saw an oppurtunity to take it."

"Haven't you already a seat?" I must have sounded like a child, irritated for getting their toy taken away.

"I do."

"Then, why sit next to me?"

"Is this spot taken?"

"By my feet, yes." He laughed, did he really have the guts to tease me? He didn't even know what I was, I was capable of.

"May I ask why your feet need such care?"

"No, you may not." I answered bluntly, I sat back down in my chair and crossed my arms, staring ahead at the seat before me, again like a child and it was true, I cetainly was a child, a stubborn teenager in a situation, I couldn't say a word about.

"You don't have a reason?" He spat, I chose not to make contact with him, he was probably working for Miguel, instructed to watch me, then where is Enrique. Not that I cared at all where he was, I ceratinly would rather want him dead, I hoped he was. "My name is Johnathon." He stated plainly, putting his hand out for me to shake. My head slowly turning to glare over at his hand, then my eyes met up with his again. I took in his every feature, his dimples, his arched eyebrows, his white teeth, and short stubble underneath his nose. I couldn't tell if he worked for Miguel or not, but he was certainly american and he was the first to actually, kindly tell me his name. I hesitantly reached out to shake his hand, after everything I have been through so far, I must be caustious. He held my hand tighter, he must had been waiting for me to say my name.