The Runaways (on hold)

Part 9

I felt something snap inside of me. All my emotions poured out in one long cascade. I held back a sob.

Blade. Why would he do this to me?

Yes, my dad had murdered people but he was still my dad. I had tried to protect him. Tried to leave behind my past and yet it always came running back to me. Would they come and find me? Take me away. I couldn't go back and face Blade. But, Jack... I looked over at him. His mouth was set into a thin line and his eyes were full of regret. He stared ahead, focusing on the driving. Not wanting to make eye contact. He was the only person in my life that I cared about now. Blade had betrayed my trust and Fraser and Brooklyn wouldn't want me in their house – the daughter of a mass murderer. I had to stay with Jack. I couldn't run away again. Not from him. I needed some time away though. I needed to calm down or I'd end up hurting someone real bad (probably Blade).

“Jack?”I asked nervously – how could I ever have suspected him?

“Uh huh?” He grunted, keeping his eyes on the road.

“Can you drive me to the train station. I need to get away for a bit. I'll come back but I just need some time to myself or I'll end up ripping Blades guts out. But...” I faltered, “T-t-t-t..Tell him that I know he did it for the best and that in time; I'll forgive him and tell the others that I'll be back in a week or so.” Jack looked at me and smiled wanly.

“I'll take you to the nearest train station,” he lent over and kissed me gently. “I love you Pheo.”

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I sat on the platform of Cambridge Station. Jack had already left and I was just waiting for my train to arrive. My head was aching slightly where I had hit it but I was too worked up to worry about that at the moment.

A voice buzzed over the intercom, “Platform four, Cambridge to Alnmouth had been delayed and will be arriving in 25 minutes. Thank you for your patience” Great. I thought to myself. It was boring enough just sitting here anyway, never mind for another 25 minutes. I got up from my seat. I really needed the loo.

It was ages since I'd been to the station so I was having a few problems finding my way around. A stand to my left was selling newspapers and a stand to my right was selling hot dogs. I sized up the people on both stands. The hot dog woman was overweight with a wispy beard and thick eyebrows. Her face was like a red boiled sweet and sweat dripped from her head and down into the vat of hot dogs. I recoiled in disgust. She grinned at me; showing the gaps where teeth should have been. I looked away swiftly and found myself looking at the newspaper man. He had long grey greasy hair and wrinkles in his forehead that seemed to be collecting muck. He was completely ignoring the person in front of him who was trying to buy a newspaper and was instead looking to the left of him at a look a like Jordan with her enlarged breasts practically falling from her low cut top and her plumped up lips outlined in more make up than a drag queen. His head swayed in time with the rhythm of her hips and I found myself wondering if she knew he was watching and was showing of especially for him. She disappeared around the corner and a look of disappointment crossed his face. He saw me looking at him, looked me up and down then winked with a sly grin on his face. I wrinkled my noise on disgust. Then I hurried away, joining a crowd of people heading towards Costas. There would be toilets in Costas, wouldn't there? And I could get something to eat.

The smell of coffee hit me full in the face and I avoided the crowds and managed to squeeze into Costas. A sign to the left of me pointed out the direction of the toilets. Thankfully despite the busyness of the café there were no queues for the loos. I quickly relieved myself and went and stood in the queue for food and drink. I glanced at my watch. Still plenty of time to catch the train. In front of me a little girl clung shyly to her mothers leg and I gave her a small smile. She smiled back with a cute little grin with two missing front teeth. She had dark chocolate skin and tightly curled black hair that framed her face like a lions mane. She was the splitting image of her mum. I'd reached the front of the queue and the woman behind the counter peered at me over chunky gold rimmed glasses. I picked up a pre-wrapped cheese and ham sandwich from the display cabinet and handed it over.

“A take-away americano too.” I said politely.

“One americano Betty,” She called to the girl standing at the coffee machine. “That'll be £6.50,” She said to me. I handed her the money and received my scalding hot coffee.

“Thanks,” I said before walking away. I found another bench by my platform and unwrapped my sandwich. I took a bite and chewed heartily. I hadn't realised how hungry I was. Soon half of the sandwich was gone. I was taking a sip of my coffee when a man sat down next to me. He pulled a newspaper out from under his arm and settled into reading it. At points he would scrunch up his face and murmur to himself. A phone started to ring and I went to get mine out when I realised it was actually the man's phone. He took it out of his jeans pocket and answered it. Although it was probably against the law or something, I listened to his conversation. Unfortunately he held the phone really close to his ear so I couldn't hear the other voice.

“Good afternoon Jeff,” I hear him say coldly. “Why isn't my story in the paper? I made sure I included all the points you asked for and I even did extra coverage on the music festival.”

He bit his lip and listened intently to what 'Jeff' had to say. I was a bit worried. I f he was a journalist then maybe he would recognise me. There had been a picture of me in the article about dad. I was slowly turning away when he said something that made me freeze.

“An article on Pheonix London? Isn't she that murderer's daughter that ran away? Oh well, whatever you say boss.”

He put his phone away and went back to reading the newspaper. I decided to move to a different bench. The train would be here any moment and I couldn't risk the journalist recognising me. I put the remains of my sandwich and coffee in the bin to the left of me. I brushed my hair over my shoulder and accidentally caught my necklace. The clasp came undone and it fell to the floor. I hastily bent down to retrieve it when I realised the journalist was bending too. He got there first and I almost fainted when I saw which necklace I'd been wearing. My specially made heart shaped locket – engraved with my full name, Pheonix Tasha London. He was about to hand it to me when he saw what it said. I was about to run away when his strong hand gripped around my wrist. I cried out as I felt the pain from his tight grip shoot up my arm.

“So you're Pheonix London,” he sneered. It was a statement not a question. He was about to say more when he realised he had attracted a crowd. I realised my chance for escape so I put on my most innocent face, well I was innocent anyway - wasn't I ?

“Please help!” I whimpered, “he's hurting me!” It must have looked really bad to outsiders. A grown man twisting a seventeen year old girl's arm for apparently no reason.

But the journalist hadn't given up. “She's that murderers daughter, Claspiane London. Her dad was a killer!” He screeched. The crowd must have realised this was true because for a few moments they were silent. Then a lone middle aged man looked around and shouted loudly.

“Let her go you moron. She's done nothing wrong” Lots of people muttered in agreement. The journalists grip on my arm loosened and I tried to pull free but I couldn't. He still had my necklace clenched in his other hand. His eyes widened in fear as the train station security started pushing through the crowd. He suddenly ran for it; dropping my necklace on the floor behind him. I rubbed my arm before picking up my necklace and clasped it around my neck. The crowd dissipated when the realised the action was over and I found myself strangely isolated on my own little area of the platform. I could hear a slight noise through the arch to my left and was relieved to see my train coming to a halt. I walked over to it calmly and got into the last carriage. I suddenly realised that I'd been holding my breath and my lungs ached for air. I really hope the journalist would be scared off permanently. I secretly wished he'd accidentally fall onto the track in front of the train. My arm had a nasty red mark where he had been twisting the skin and I wished I had some water to put onto it to stop the burning that consumed it. Being harassed by an evil journalist, one of the worst ways to start your holiday.

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A/N Please Vote, Comment and FAN!!!!!!!!! I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to write this chapter. To make up for it I'll have a little challenge – can anyone think of a worse or funnier way that Pheo could have started her holiday. * Virtual cookie for best answer! * Oh! And this was written by Rachel. a.k.a. Dusty_the_Dragon. XD