Abandoned - 5SOS fan-fiction

Chapter One

I stared into the rusty old mirror that was sitting by my pile of old boards I called a bed. My features were sharp, carved that way by the years of pain inflicted by my abusive foster parent. It was almost impossible to believe I was only 17.

I heard the thuds of drunken feet slam up to my room. It was only seconds before he came barreling into my room.
I sat and glared at him, unafraid. There is nothing to lose or break, when all you have had is lost and all you are is broken. So no, I have no fear of this man.

His fist connected with my jaw, causing the familiar sting to spread. That will bruise. He grabbed my hair and yanked it back, causing me to wince. He sneered and laughed.
He took another swing at me and for the first time, I stood up.
I blocked his next blow and took his state of being for granted, by bolting out the door before he caught on.
I ran down the stairs and out into the pouring rain.
I didn't know where I was going. I was just going.

I turned a corner of a street in London and smacked right into a group of 4 or 5 nicely dressed women with umbrellas- nicer than me anyway. I was in a sweatshirt and sweatpants, as well as being soaking wet.
Before I knew what was happening, people in suits started guiding us onto a bus.
"Come on, we have to be at the airport in an hour to go to New York City!" a man in a black suit yelled.

"No, I'm not-" I started to explain that I wasn't a part of this, but I was shoved in anyway. Once everyone got on the large bus, they started going into rooms. I went into the room that was left empty and found loads of make up supplies, clothes, and anything else needed for a makeover.
Where am I?
I looked around, searching for clues. There was a loud knock at my door.
"Come in." I said.
"Hello." Suit man said, nodding to me. He looked around 20 years old. Most likely just started his career choice, whatever that is. Body guard maybe? "You must be the new stylist on tour. I don't believe I caught your name?"
Stylist. Tour.
Meredith. My name is Meredith.
"It's M.. Toronto." I sighed. I watched him squint his eyes ever so slightly, just enough for me to catch his questioning. "My name is Toronto Sevens. Sorry, I'm a little nervous to start this new job. Big shoes to fill." I attempted to sound more sure of myself.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Toronto. I'll let you get stuff packed before we arrive at the airport to take off." he smiled before walking back out.

I ran my fingers through my hair. Okay, so I'm a stylist on tour with who knows who.
I decided to take a fast shower- like, really fast shower- and change into the clothes in the closet. I picked a black and gold designed romper and brushed my hair before drying and curling it. I couldn't help but feel excited and jittery about this new lifestyle. I tried some makeup and beamed when I looked into the mirror, seeing my expression had already softened. When in Rome, am I right? I packed up what seemed most important to pack in this situation, and followed everyone into the hallway.

When we arrived at the airport, I had my bags all collected. A man came to my room to take them for me. I could get used to this.

I tugged on the black jacket I'd found in the closet and began folding up an umbrella I'd found by the door in the small room back on the bus. We walked to the waiting room in the airport and after a lot of security, got on our plane. We were in a special section by ourselves. A lot of time to get to know each other, and because I'm the new one, I'm the target of questions. Not good.

"What's your name?" a happy looking boy asked with some wicked hair. I liked it.
"Toronto." I smiled. "I'm the new stylist here."

I guess if you act like you know your job, then people believe it.
"Nice to meet you, Toronto. I'm Michael." He smiled.
"I'm Ashton!" another boy said from behind him, waving with great exaggeration.
"Hello." I giggled. Since when do I giggle?
"I'm Luke." A tall, blonde one said blankly before laughing. Nice to know I'm not the only awkward being on this plane.
I looked at the other dark haired boy, expecting him to speak up. He gave me a (mocking) confused look.
"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" I asked, jokingly.

"Nah." he sighed before giving a soft laugh.

That kid is weird.
Personal note: Stay away from dark haired weird boy with the unknown name.

After a long plane ride of being pestered with every possible question I apparently went to beauty school in London, have a younger sister named Tess, two loving parents, a dog named Pip, and landed this job by a friend who is highly ranked in this business of making people pretty.
I felt the plane begin to lower in altitude as we descended onto the ground. We left the airport and headed straight to a hotel. A coworker mention to me that we would be staying here for a few days.
I went to my assigned room under the name "Jane Kelling" so that no one would find us. Not that anyone would know me anyway. We all received different names. But if you ask me, Jane Kelling sounds way more suspicious than Toronto Sevens.

I got to my room and found my bags. It's crazy that the obvious thought didn't occur until I sat down on my bed, alone in the dark. I'm supposed to style these boys but I haven't touched make up or nice clothing in years until today.

What have I gotten myself into?