Crazy British Bella {Twilight}#Wattys2015

Chapter1

I look at my mother and father passed out in the seats beside me. My mother next to the window, my father next to her and me sitting on the end. I get the side with the broken armrest, and the table table with stains all over it from spilt, tea or some weird looking brown, substance.

I change the song on my phone to my rock playlist, and sleeping with sirens comes on straight away. Ironic how the song is called,'Better off dead'. Just how I feel right now, I would better off be dead than stuck on this damn plane for a thirteen hour flight ahead of me.

I hate flying, it's not a heights problem, more of a worrying problem. So many faults, ways to dies, so many possibilities. The plane could crash into an unexpected plane, there could be a storm, the engine could cut out, we could run out of fuel, there could even be a terrorist on this plane ready to just lets his ticking time bomb go off.

Even with all of these thoughts running through my head, I feel no panic. Just calm. Calm and collected, as every thought I have seems to be followed by a way to die. It's just the way my weird sadistic brain works.

I take the carry on bag from the luggage compartment under my seat, and take out my diary and purple pen with fuzzy hair at the top. Mum bought it for me for school, but it's not like I ever used it there, that would have been degrading of my status. If I even had one. I was a ghost in school, and everyone was polite to me when I wasn't snapping at them.

See, I like everything to match, to be similar. If I have a black top on then I need to have black trousers, black shoes and well you get the point. The same as if I have pink carpet, then my rug, curtains, lamps and bed sheets all have to match.

Its just being efficient really, I see nothing wrong with it.

I look at the fresh blank page of my diary, and begin to write nonsense that Emily demands I do. She won't ever read it, but she said I must document my thoughts, because those are the things that hold my secrets, my worries and my 'illness' as Emily calls it.

Dear Diary,

No cross that out immediately, it sounds idiotic and so cliche.

Dear pretend person that does not exist,

I'm on a plane on my way to Forks. I've already informed you about this trip, so I won't go into a long rant like yesterday's entry. Mum and Dad are both asleep, which is good for me because that means peace, but also bad because they will be less able to survive a crash if there unconscious. So I'm staying awake for this whole plane ride.I'm already mapping out my plan to cut up a bunch of magazines and fill my bedroom wall with a collage of pictures and posters. I will need to be carefull with the scissors though. My first day in Forks will be spent with me trying to find a job in the city. I'm sixteen and I feel as though I should be working.I did bring my razor with me, It's in my panda bear. I dont plan on using it, but just in case I will have my escape close by.

Thats all for now.

I close my diary, putting the little padlock on it and stuffing it into the bag. I take out my PsP and try to get off the same dam level of grand theft auto that I have been stuck on for days. I won't let it beat me.

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Okay, yes this is mature, so this will have mature content, All the content you can imagine. So if you can't handle self harm, or sex, or swearing, then exit out of this book now.