Chapter Two - The Girl

Chapter Two :) I've nothing better to do so I'm churning out chapters :)

Oh good! He hasn’t noticed I’ve nicked his journal! Go me! Oooh, it’s such a serious journal �" just observation… He’s even described me! Saves me doing it myself then… Here’s my story:

‘Get out Jay. Get out now. I don’t want to see you ever again.’ I run, the words still ringing in my ears. I’m cold, I didn’t bother with a coat, just my essentials. My iPhone, all my money, my child’s Oyster card, and my new Anthony Horowitz book. With the book under my arm and the rest in my pocket I run far away from the estate. It hasn’t done much for me anyway. I quickly understood that I was a mistake. Of course my parents didn’t want me. They much prefer my twin sister, Leia. Thankfully we aren’t identical �" she is a blonde, blue eyed Tudor Rose of a person, whilst I’m the darker auburn haired and hazel eyed girl. We also differ with personality. She is submissive, and eager to please, and thus is the favourite of Eileen, our mother. Eileen has no compassion and no sympathy for me. She hates me. These thoughts run through my head as I head down the high street, glancing over my shoulder at the estate. They live in a council house on the edge of Hanger Lane. My mom, step dad and sister. I hate all of them. I have the smallest room in the house, which used to be the laundry room, just so Leia can have her own room. The largest room. I don’t have much �" an Ikea cloth wardrobe and a bed. They make it clear, Eileen and Steve, that they hate me. Today I committed a grievous sin �" I refused to clean the house. I clean it every day, but today I felt rebellious. So, they start berating me. In the divorce with my real dad, Eileen pressed for custody of Leia, but not of me. My dad, Xavier, pressed for custody of me. However, he lost the case, because Eileen bribed the judge, with sex probably. My dad is allowed 24 hours with me and Leia per month. Leia refuses to see him, though. So it’s just me and him, and that suits us fine. We actually prefer it.

I walk as fast as I can, however I try not to look suspicious. I know Eileen will want me home soon to yell at me again and to have her Cinderella back; and she has eyes and ears everywhere. But this time, I’m not hanging around. I aim for the tube station in the middle of the roundabout. There are cars everywhere �" a slip road off the North Circular leads to this roundabout, and I sometimes get scared. I clench my fists, and go down into the pedestrian underpass. It’s deserted, apart from Maud, who has made this tunnel her home. I hear water dripping down a gutter, and the traffic roaring overhead. Maud is awake, and I say a polite ‘hello’ as I walk past her, and she waves a hand in acknowledgement. She has given up trying to solicit money out of me as we’ve spent several nights together in this tunnel, when I run away from Eileen’s house. I’m not even going to call it home. I make my way to the tube station, and stride up the steps, two at a time. I enter the ticket hall, bustling with people just entering the station. I force my way through the barriers, scanning my card, which I secretly top up with Eileen’s card when she isn’t looking, and aiming for the escalator down into the depths of Hanger Lane tube station. I’m heading into the City, to Liverpool Street to be exact, and thus I have to go to the busiest platform. Because I am small, I manage to weave in and out of legs and bags to get near the front of the platform crowd, at the very edge of the platform. The platform is outside, and the cold wind nips at my fingers and ears, but I hardly feel it, adrenaline pumping through me as I wait eagerly for the train. It finally arrives, and will take me all the way to Liverpool Street. The doors open, and the crowd parts slightly to allow any passengers leaving the train to get off. But no one comes. So we surge as one towards the open doors, filling the train like an army of ants. I scramble for a seat, and get one near the doors, facing the platform. This suits me fine, and as the people fill up the aisle between the seats, I know that if anyone comes looking for me, I won’t be seen. I open up my book, the Anthony Horowitz I got from Enrique for my birthday. Enrique is my longest friend �" totally basketball obsessed but with a temper like no other. He is famous for defending me from Eileen and Steve, but has been kicked out of our house many a time. I smile wistfully, remembering him, and I wonder when I’ll see him again. I haven’t told him where I’ve gone, and that I’ve gone at all. These thoughts keep me occupied until White City, when a large portion of the train gets off, and I’m left staring at empty seats in front of me.

We reach Notting Hill Gate. More people get off, and I let out a breath I haven’t even realised I was holding and focus on my book. Hard. I surround myself with the world of James Bond, but only look up when I see a shadow take the seat opposite me, at Bond Street. I see a man, in a black overcoat, with scuffed black loafers, a battered fedora hiding silver eyes, and unshaved stubble. The collar of his coat is turned up, hiding his hair from view. He is sitting next to a lady, with a red handbag, red nails, red necklace and red lips. Maybe his girlfriend? They entered together so I assume. I then catch him looking at me and wink, trying to appear nonchalant. I then return to my book, and I read well over half of it by the time we reach Liverpool Street, and I look up, though I don’t look like I’m about to leave the train. The man and woman rise, and head towards the exit. He looks back at me, but I focus hard on the platform. They leave the train.

The door warning sounds, jolting me out of my thoughts and I dash for the exit. I just make it out of the doors, and I’m scared again. I’m in an unfamiliar place, and I don’t know where I’m going, what I’m doing here. But then I realise, and aim for the Way Out signs, running past people, running past the man in the coat, running past the woman with red, towards the escalator. All I could think about was trying to remember where I needed to go. The neon West End play posters blind me and the chatter of the people deafens me. I reach the top of the escalator, and push my way through the exit barriers. I choose an exit at random, and race through it. The freezing air forces my breath out of my lungs, as it hits me, but I still force my way through the crowds. I notice a flower seller on my right, and see a purple bouquet, my favourite colour. I look at it for a split second, and then rush towards the massive, mirrored glass building across the road. I walk calmly up to the door, and push the intercom. ‘Jay Lewis to see Mr. Lewis please’ I say confidently. ‘What business?’ the intercom replies. ‘I’m here to see my father.’

Author's Note

Honest reviews please :)

Reviews

[Rowen]

I really like this story, and the way you write (By that I mean the words you use to describe stuff ect) in general, awesome book! :)

[TwoDaysTooLate]

Thank you :) I didn't think you guys would like this story! Thank you for the positive review :)

[Rowen]

You're welcome :)