𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 | 𝐒.𝐌

Chapter 1

Elizabeth's POV

When the plane starts to land in Amsterdam, I try to look away from the ground before I get dizzy or nauseous, whatever comes first. As we land, a little girl starts to scream. Why can't she just shut up?

I leave the plane as fast as I can, leaving all the irritating people behind.

My suitcase is on the escalator-thing - I don't know what it's called, but that's what my father always calls it - and I watch it rotate in front of me. 

I grab my two dark blue suitcases and head out of the airport to find a cab that will bring me to The Hague.

'I could've just picked you up.' my friend says. 'You're going to pay a shit load of money on that cab.'

'Nah, I'm good. Thanks.' I say when the cab takes off.

I know my friend means well, but I just want to go home by myself so I don't have to invite anybody in and be a nice host. 

The cab stops at the door of the building where I live. The doorman named Sam greets me and takes my suitcases from me as I find my way to the elevator. 

I open the door of my apartment and thank Sam for carrying my suitcases. He always does that when I return from a trip, no matter how many times I told him I could carry them myself.

As soon as I enter the hallway I smell the delicious food my father is cooking. I am so happy he's here. 

'Oh my god, dad! I missed you so much.' I scream when I run into the kitchen.

'No you didn't.' He says calmly with his thick Scottish accent.

'Yes, I did.' I shriek.

'You can't really miss someone who's been in your life forever and is certainly not leaving anytime soon.'

'I went to the Bahamas for a month, so yes, I've missed you, even if you're not leaving.' I say letting go of my dad's shoulders.

'Whatever.' He says as he turns to the stove.

I give him a kiss on his cheek before I leave the kitchen so I can shove my full suitcase behind my closet. I don't bother unpacking it, I will deal with that mess later. 

It's not like I'm going to need those clothes anytime soon, so why should I unpack it?

When I'm done shoving my suitcase in the closet, I take a look around my room. It looks different, really different. 

My bed is still in the same place, next to the wall, but my bedside table has been pushed against the wall on the other side. The rug on the ground has been moved all the way to the window. How the hell did this happen? I know my father didn't do this.

The mirrors on my closet are full of dust, and I realize that I really need to clean them... soon.

'Dinner is ready!' My dad screams from the kitchen as if the whole building needs to join us.

He has two plates in his hands and sets it on the coffee table in the living room. He taps on the space next to him where he wants me to sit down before he grabs the remote and turns the television on.

I stare at the empty dinner table in the living room. I guess it's just for show...

My dad made his amazing Risotto with mushrooms and cheese, my favourite. He turns on Netflix and chooses the series that we always watch together.

'This is the last episode.' He says.

'Then I don't want to watch it.' I respond.

'Fine. I still don't get why, to be honest.' He says with a ridiculous face.