"Think you can take me?" I arched an eyebrow.
"Are you doubting me?" She answered.
//
Natalie Perkins, born in London. The FBI is after her for the assassination of fourteen men. All of them brutally murdered one day of the week, all of them left wi...
I tried to fight But I'm not strong enough I just want you here But I also want to be alone I don't know what I want anymore
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Planes.
I fucking hated planes. They smelled of plastic and something artificial that I couldn't quite discern, plus they moved too much. Maybe they were faster than other means of transport, but they were just fucking ugly. They flew high enough to trigger my fears, and I couldn't bear them.
My fear of heights was always really active, ever since I was a kid. My parents knew about it and they respected it, but that didn't stop them from taking me on airplane trips. I couldn't complain though, because the destinations were what I cared about.
And my fear wasn't just regular. Sleeping in planes was the only thing I could do - and now I didn't even sleep on ground. I couldn't move, because whatever I did would cause me a major headache. And zip-lines were never an option. Neither were balconies in buildings or double-decker buses. Yes, my fear was that bad.
But apparently, Harry loved planes. And the motherfucker had convinced me of taking one to Barcelona.
We had two options; we either traveled on a regular plane or we accepted Louis' private one. My instinctive reaction was to go for the regular one, since I had no intention of accepting anything that had to do with him.
But of course Harry had to join the scene, talking to me and convincing me of going for the private jet. My mood was shit after that conversation, mostly because Harry probably cared more about facilities and money than anything else.
Well, I couldn't blame him, he wasn't the one in a personal brawl with Tomlinson.
Plus, we would've had to travel in a plane either way, so it was better traveling in one that could guarantee us all sorts of mod cons. So yeah, I was about to accept the private jet of one of my enemies. Simply perfect.
I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see past the gray seat in front of me. The jet consisted of four open cubicles, each of them with four leather seats in a square-shaped position; two facing one side and two facing the other.
Harry and I were the only ones on the plane, except for the pilot in the cabin and two flight attendants occupying the cubicle next to us. And everything was silent. Peaceful silence I always craved for but never got.
Actually, the plane wasn't completely silent. I guess quietness wasn't something I got to have after all.
The voices in my head were nearly screaming and I was surprised no one else heard them. The flight lasted two hours and I had been lost in my imagination for fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes of peace where not even the voices could be heard amongst the silence. But they started yelling, and I find myself staring at that gray leather seat once more.
