Chapter Twelve

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 Chapter Twelve

“You think this is going to make me proud of you, Ivy?” Aleena spoke, looking down to me.

I gulped and nodded. Aleena peered down at me, her dark hair covering most of her face.

“Well, it doesn’t. If anything, it makes me disappointed.”

“B-but Aleena! I’m doing what you want! I got out of the town! I’m actually doing something!”

She scoffed and pushed me to the floor. She took her foot and placed it on my chest, pushing me down and making it so I couldn’t move.

“You are nothing but a disappointment. You are the reason I left two years ago. You have caused me nothing but pain, trouble, and misfortune. I hope I never see you again.”

She smirked as I struggled to breathe, the weight coming from her foot was too much. She giggle, covering her mouth, then lifted up her leg, and slamming the heel of her shoe down on my face.

I sat up right in my seat and gasped lowly.  I looked around in shock as I took in my surroundings, sleeping babies, men reading magazines, women readjusting their makeup, and also my hand intertwined with Brendon's.

Oh, right. I am on an airplane.

I looked over to see Brendon’s head propped against the hard wall of the airplane, his face angled down at the cracked window, indicating that he must have fallen asleep while gazing out at the ground below. I sighed and laid my head back on his shoulder.

No going back to sleep now. Not after that monstrosity of a dream.

I looked back down at my right hand intertwined with Brendon's left.

When did that happen?

I shrugged and held up our hands to get a better inspection. His hand is noticeable bigger than mine, and much tanner. My skin looked so white compared to his, my black painted nails only making me look paler, almost like paper on sand. I wiggled my fingers, making my nails scrap his skin lightly. He only sighed softly and tightened his hand. I looked around once again, observing the people aboard this plane.

I tried to observe them like Sherlock Holmes does, on the show Sherlock, but I always fail miserably, only picking up things like dog and cat hair, or signs of stress. I looked at the people sitting diagonal from us, and took in their appearance.

A skinny Indian boy sat with what looked like could be his mother or sister, and was reading a book. Behind him was a little girl, looking to be only eight or nine, with a girl looking fifteen or sixteen with bright blue hair. She was wearing large black headphones and was bobbing her head to what I presumed to be rock music. I looked around a little more, nothing else catching my eye.

I turned my attention to a sleeping Brendon, examining his face.

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