M.I.A

o n e

NEW ONE.  I've been extremely exicted about uploading this for a while now so I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Its quite different to what I usually write so I'm just seeing how this goes. 

Dedication to Kay cause guuuurl that chick can write and she's been one of my inspirations for the last 2 years. She's a brilliant writer and if you haven't already-which I doubt- I demand you go and check out her stuff. 

OK LET US BEGIN

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Chapter One- "Did you really have to go all James Bond up the fucking sidewalk?"

Mornings suck. 

The piercing pain in my elbow was the first thing that was apparent to me as I awoke from a dark and painful sleep. The second being that I was on the floor, having must have fallen out of my bed. Getting up and stripping out of my sweat soaked shirt, I jumped in the shower trying so terribly to be ridden of the memories my dreams had somehow managed to uncover from deep within me.

My falling out of bed had been due to my brain creating scenarios in my head while I am unconscious that scare the shit out of me. It had been a while since I had the dream and I was starting to believe I wasn't going to have it again. I was evidently wrong.

Trying my best to focus on washing my hair, the silence around me in the bathroom wasn’t helping me be rid of the nightmare that had been haunting me for what seems like forever. As time passed the water started to ease my tight muscles and I was able to relax a little. Mentally preparing myself for the day that was ahead I jumped out of the shower. Throwing an oversized white shirt on and some black skinny jeans, I quickly applied a light layer of makeup.

Morning routine done, I plodded downstairs to then sit at the stool where a bowl of cereal had been left on the island for me. As always sitting across from me was a handsome middle aged man with a large mop of messy blond hair. His large jaw was tensed, as it was every day, his vivid green eyes where intensely staring at the newspaper he had in his hand, only taking a break to take a sip of his steaming cup of coffee in the other. This was the same view I have had every morning for the past 17 years of my life. Shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a tie loosely thrown around his neck, the stupid odd socks that he claimed gave him good luck. My uncle. He was odd, brilliant, but odd nonetheless.

With a quick goodbye to my eccentric uncle, I walked over to the garage opening it to the smell of grease and oil. Eddie liked to fix up cars, a hobby, he had in fact bestowed upon me. Out of the three cars that where currently lined up against each other, one in particular stood out. As I walked past it I brushed my fingers over the sleek silver hood. This car had me squealing on the inside when Eddie brought it home one day, even though it was battered up so much it had looked like someone had set Bruce Lee on it. It had had three windows missing, dents everywhere and no tyres. Despite the complete battering this car had taken I knew exactly what it was. After many nights slaving under the hood of the car, Eddie had rummaged up enough parts to fix it and he managed to get the car running. To top it off all it needed was a quick paint job, new tyres, new windows and it was as good as new.

The Aston Martin DB9 before me was my ultimate dream car. Despite the fact it happened to be sitting in my garage, this unfortunately wasn't the car I was going to be taking to school, let alone driving it seeing as apparently I just ‘wasn't allowed’.  Eddie only used it when he went on business trips, which I only assumed he did to show off to the other men and make them jealous. This meant it sat there, in between my Jeep and Eddie’s BMW, gathering dust, begging me to take it for a spin. The never ending argument we had over if I could drive it or not had been going on ever since Eddie bought it in, but he wouldn't budge. He was adamant I wouldn't touch the thing till I was 30.