Everything and More

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 5

New York traffic to JFK is hell like usual, angry taxi drivers and cocky people all fighting to beat the morning rush. Time's obscured by my tears but keeps moving in spite of them. Why can't this all be a bad dream that I get to wake up from?

Once we arrive at the airport and pull up to a small hangar at the end of the air strip, we board Max's private jet. I'm on autopilot, just going through the motions but not really being here as I grab a seat next to the window and Max follows suit, sitting opposite me. He hasn't said anything since we left the house but I think he's just giving me time to process what's happening.

Once the plane doors close and the flight attendant and captain do the final checks we're off. The belt sits tightly around my waist, the only thing that's holding me down, anchoring me. The plane slowly makes its way away from the hangar, gaining speed as it heads for the runway.

I grip the arm rest next to me, my knuckles turning white in the process. Max shifts in his seat, moving so he can place his hand on top of mine. He isn't like Mary with soft hands, his are  callused and hard but it's there in support, just like he said he would be.

The plane rumbles under us as it builds up speed and soon I can feel the plane start to bounce up into the air and then we're up, up and away. The view from above as we slowly start ascending into the morning sky is breathtaking. The New York skyline has never looked more peaceful, it holds so much beauty that it hurts. How can I feel at peace when my parents have just been ripped away, my home and my life. I feel like a broken record with these words constantly repeating around in my head but they're stuck and won't leave, the only constant right now in my life, even though it's what's tearing my life to shreds.

I'm drifting further away and I can't hold it in anymore, I can't contain it, so I let the salty drops solemnly roll down my cheeks. Max lifts the arm rest, pulling me into a safe and firm hug, holding me close.

"Im here, it's going to be ok Aria," I don't believe him though, how can I?

"Come over here and lay down, try and get some rest," Max walks me over to a long couch and lets me settle down before pulling the covers over me. I close my eyes and battle for sleep, something that rarely comes now.

❀❀❀

My head is groggy and disoriented when I wake from my unsettled slumber. The smell of chicken and warm bread attacks my senses and a small moan leaves my lips, I didn't realise how hungry I was, until my mouth starts watering at the food that sits on the table in front of Max. He instantly turns his attention to me, discarding the papers he has spread out next to the food.

"Just in time for some lunch Ari, I hope you like chicken," he shifts his gaze to the deliciously steaming hot food on the table. I can see the steam rise from the plates, teasing me to come and eat.

I give a small nod because, "I'm a pesco pollo uncle Max, chicken is my bitch," his face contorts to shock at my words.

"Well missy well have to work on that potty mouth," I bite my tongue, realising he might not appreciate me swearing in his company.

"I'm sorry I didn't...," he cuts me off with a small chuckle.

"I'm just kidding Aria, trust me you speak like the queen compared to what my boys say. You look a bit better after your sleep, how are you feeling?" I didn't sleep though, instead I pretended because I'm constantly haunted by the image of their plane crashing into the ocean as it burned to a crisp, the image keep assaulting me every time I close my eyes.

I haven't told anyone because what can they do? They can't take the memories away and they won't understand what it feels like. Instead I usually say I'm fine because people won't ask questions and hassle you if you pretend that your life is put together, when in fact I'm barely holding on with cheap, globby glue.