Love the little one NEW VERSION

Chapter 1

Angel

"I'm going to be late!"

I run around my room, trying to grab all the things I want to take with me and only remembered on the last minute.

Typical.

At the door I look around the room for the last time, pushing down the tears that threaten to spill upon seeing the bare pale blue walls, the hardwood floor that appears so cold without the rugs that are now standing packed in the living room with my other things and the white, nearly transparent curtains that sway with the gentle breeze coming through the window now that there are no fairy lights or pictures to weigh them down.

My mother's "You're going to be late, honey!" interrupts my mental checklist and forces me to nearly drop all the things piled in my hands when I try to reach for my phone to check the time. Oh damn I am going to be late if I don't get going right now!

I rush down the stairs and being the clumsy person I am, I miss a step and nearly fall flat on my face. But only nearly because as always, my dad is there to catch me.

"Careful now, you're still going to be late if you have to take a trip to the clinic. Also, how can you miss that one step nearly every time you walk down these stairs, it's not like you've lived here since you were three?"

I give him a sarcastic smile as a response while trying to fit the last things into my bags. Dad pulls me up by my shoulders and pushes me towards the kitchen saying that he'll handle it.

"Go get something to eat and don't mind your mother, you've got time."

I whirl around and nearly knock into a wall, only managing to steady myself on the last second.

"What do you mean 'you've got time'? I have to be at the airport in an hour!"

"Yes and it will take a half an hour at most to drive there." Dad raises his eyebrow and looks at me as if I'm the lunatic. Which I'm clearly not.

"Exactly! You will never know what could happen! What if there is a flood? Or big traffic jams everywhere? What if the taxi gets a flat tyre? It will all take time!" I mean like, you have to be prepared for everything.

Dad just shakes his head and takes my bags to the front porch.

I make my way to the kitchen only to see my mother rushing around grabbing this and putting away that, her fashionable blonde bob swishing around her face. I wish her a good morning but she doesn't seem to notice me as she mumbles to herself.

"Mum! Good morning." I finally catch her attention. She turns to look at me and a look of relief washes over her face.

"Oh, good, you're finally here. Now sit down and eat your breakfast." She hands me a plate of bacon and eggs and goes back to washing the last dishes. She takes a look at the clock on the oven and mutters to herself while shaking her head. "I can't believe the taxi isn't here yet, she's going to miss her flight like that."

I chuckle and try not to miss my mouth with the fork while watching my mother angrily scrub the pan. Stabbing your cheek with a fork is not fun, people. Suddenly, there is a hand on the back of my head, pushing it down so I'm forced to look at my plate.

"Keep your eyes on your fork, we don't need you hurting yourself again." Says my father cheekily, already striding over to my mother and wrapping his arms around her waist. Okay so, yes, the whole 'stabbing yourself with a fork hurts' talk comes from experience.

All of a sudden, there is a black strand of hair dangling in front of my face. I try to blow it away so it wouldn't get in my mouth but nearly spit out the last remains of fried egg in my mouth. Now frustrated, I tuck the strand behind my ear with a hand but as always, there is another strand sliding over my shoulder and into my face.