We were moving. I didn't mind. I was aching for a new start. I had never fit in. "Sylvia! Grab me that box." My mother had named me after Sylvia Plath. She said it was because I had always had the soul of a poet. Even as a baby. I was always emotional. At least according to my mom.
We were moving to England. My mom got a job in London. Im not exactly sure what she does, its some weird office job for the government. She deals with foreign issues. It has always bored me so we really don't talk about it. I am a writer, just like my dad. She HATED that fact. She blames me that he is dead. She blames me for everything anymore. So im glad the new job will have her busy...
After we had everything packed on my grandpas plane we got buckled in. Grandpa was a pilot and a damn good one. He was my dads, dad. My mothers parents are just like her... Stuck up. The flight was 8 hours long. About 2 hours in i fell asleep.
YOU ARE READING
I am. I am. I am. -- Chapter One: Move
FanfictionA Niall Horan fan fic. This is old and starts out semi-poorly written and I apologize for this.I am working on finishing it so hopefully you enjoy. As always votes and comments are strongly encouraged. I love the feedback and I love you all! :)
