The Summer Camp Diaries

• Phillip •

"Huh?"

I looked up from the concrete floor to gaze my eyes at the driver once more, annoyed that I had to repeat myself.

"You heard me, I'm not going." In response to my comment he looked genuinely surprised as he stared at me in complete silence.

It's been a few minutes or so since I had arrived at the airport and without the sight of a red telephone box, the typical southern accent of an English citizen and no call from a certain blonde bitch, I felt homesick. I was never the type to enjoy travelling, but to suddenly be drifted off to another country without the presence of a overbearing sadist, I'm lost for words.

Frowning, the driver tilted his head slightly and with his eyes gawking at me as if conflicted to disobey my father orders. Clearly, he was mentally battling himself.

"Sir, if it makes you feel any better, you can wait at the hotel room that Mr Watson had reserved for you." I sighed heavily, leaning my body against the black car, too tired to even speak.

With my departure from home becoming more than just a fantasy, what was I expecting as a result of all of this? A goodbye kiss from my own Dad with tears dripping down his face. Fuck no, that man has never shed a tear for as long as I've been alive.

I had no reason to even be mad at a man who no longer smile at this point.

"Take me shopping instead." I finally said to the driver.

I made my way to the back of the car and lifted the boot up, barely managing to raise my suitcase in there due to a sudden stomach cramp. I wasn't sure where the pain had come from, if it was due to my body movement or not, but I couldn't ignore the sharp intake of air that I instantly needed. Neither could the driver stop staring.

"S-sir, ar-are you okay?" Stuttering over his words, I held back the urge to roll my eyes at this death prick.

"I gave you an order, take me to the mall, shopping district or whatever the heck they call it here. I need to get a few things before we go." Slamming the boot hard with one hand, I properly stood up, walked over to the other side of the car only to open the door, enter, sit and once again close it with a bang.

Honestly, I don't know if I should blame my shitty mood because of my childish behaviour or the genuine thought that I've left home in bad terms with my father, again.

As the driver -or better known as Gavin- drove us into the busy streets of a city unknown to me, I decided to stare at my hands. A simple gold chain was wrapped loosely around my wrist, the only decoration to go with my dark outfit and shades that I wore. This was merely a distraction that kept my mind away from my rumbling stomach that felt completely sick within a couple of minutes of driving.

"Fuck me..." Unexpectedly, I felt another shot of pain and as I crouched slightly in my seat, I wrapped my arms tightly around myself to keep whatever devil inside me from releasing a bomb out of my system.

"Sir, is everything alright?" He said, his eyes peeking at me through the rearview mirror.

At that moment, my only response was a wave of my hand with no words to describe this embarrassing situation. In all honesty, only I could put up such an act of pride before my own health or death at this point.

"Sir?" The tone of his voice instinctively told me he was concern. Gavin may be under my father protection as my guardian and driver for my temporary stay in America but, he's also a good man. Never have I personally had previous issues involving him and I or dealt with Gavin wanting me dead like my former "brothers," so he was a man with a kind -almost pure- heart.