Through his lens

Hotel California

Hi reader! Just wanted to write a quick disclaimer before you start reading. This book is written by a British girl with a love for America. Having been there and family living in California I know quite a bit about the country but I'm sure there will be errors that I make.

You may or may not know but us brits love a phrase so I'm sure I'll use one that an American definitely wouldn't say. Same with American spelling. Please leave a comment if I make a mistake and I'll go back and change it.

I love reading your comments and encourage constructive criticism but I don't tolerate nasty comments to another reader. Be warned if I see them I will delete them!

Apart from that I really hope you love this story as much as I do! Enjoy!

Xx
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I hated the looks of pity on people's faces when they saw me. The harsh whispers behind hands as I walk past, the meaningless I'm sorry for your loss that was like a broken record.

I've always been known as the shy, polite girl. The, I hate being centre of attention girl. The girl that always smiled even if the person on the receiving end didn't deserve it.

But, if there was one positive to this god-awful never-ending nightmare of a day, it was that I wasn't expected to be anything but a devoid of emotion carcass. I had an excuse to avoid talking to everyone here and no one expected me to smile.

A part of me felt bad for letting my Gran do all the greeting. Thanking those that went to the small effort of putting on a black outfit and getting a front seat ticket to the tragic show that had been in all the papers. They wanted to ogle at the girl who lived, more so than remembering those that didn't.

Gran was braver than I was. She had the courage and strength to go up in front of everyone and speak. I could barely utter a word yet she had been able to come up with something beautiful to say.

As she spoke my eyes were focused on what was behind her. I couldn't stop staring at them. The three ugly black coffins. This was wrong, it was all wrong. I felt like I was in a nightmare that I couldn't wake up from.

'You.'

My attention fell back on Gran as she looked at me with disgust. In fact, as I turned around in my seat, I noticed everyone was focused on me as if I were some kind of murderer.

'You don't belong here.' Gran boomed in an unfamiliar voice.

'Get out! Get out!'

'GET OUT!'

I jolted awake in my seat and took a few deep gulps of air.

'Ma'am are you ok?' I felt a gentle hand on my arm belonging to a concerned flight attendant. 'Would you like some water?'

I glanced around the cabin and thankfully I hadn't woken anyone else up. I hadn't even realised I'd fallen asleep, the movie I'd mostly had on as background noise was now rolling the credits.

'I'm fine, thank you.' I said curtly.

She nodded sympathetically and walked away.

It's been just over three weeks since the funeral. Yes, that's right it wasn't a nightmare. Ok, maybe the ending was a bit dramatic, my grandma didn't exactly accuse me of being an imposter at my family's funeral but that's what it felt like. As if I'd somehow cheated death, like I didn't deserve to be there.

When the plane landed a staff member, who's name I forgot as soon as she said, it escorted me through the airport. This is what it's been like since the accident. Constant supervision. Treating me like a child as if they thought I was going to do something stupid.