FINALLY, ABROAD!

The seven-hour journey was exhausting. Three hours had passed, and her back ached. Excusing herself, she went to the toilet. She slapped her cheeks, slightly blushing, over what had happened earlier before she boarded her plane. She could still feel Pete’s tongue on her pussy.

She giggled like a teenage girl as she took her phone from her pocket and touched Pete’s picture on the screen. The photo has been serving as her screen saver for seven years now. She took it when they were twelve years old. She used to sneak into Pete’s room and watch her sleep.

Slowly, her mischief grew into an obsession, and the obsession became a habit. She could do anything to her except watch her sleep. After some time, when she tried to stop herself from doing it, she realized she couldn’t since she was head over heels with Pete.

A year later, when they clocked thirteen, she had mustered up enough courage. She had decided it was time to confess her feelings toward her before it was too late. That night, with sweat beads on her forehead, she raced towards Pete’s mansion. She lifted her cheeks as her lips parted for an uncontrollable smile.

Finally, she was going to make Pate hers. Ascending the stairs in a rush, she barged into her room. She was shocked when she found Pete on her bed with a boy, kissing. Heartbroken, she ran back home, crying. Since that day, she's sworn to keep the feelings to herself. The next day, when Pete wanted to know why she had barged in her room and left almost immediately, she lied, saying it was nothing important and that she had gone for a sleepover.

"But you seemed hurt, why?" Pete asked her that day. Snubbing her, she insulted her, calling her a busybody and an overthinker. That was when the conversation was buried and was never brought up until six years later, when Pete confessed to having a thing for her.

Though they have been together for two weeks, it seems like they have been together for so many years. It was so sad that they wouldn’t be seeing each other for the next two years. Going back to her seat, Heather smiled as she recalled their best moments. In the goodbye sex that kept replaying in her mind, she secretly reached her hands under her blouse and pinched her nipples.

"I miss you, Pete." She whisphered.

Hours later, she was woken up by the co-pilots’ voice, asking them to fold their meal tables and tighten their seat belts because the plane was about to land. She stretched her numb body and fumbled over her purse to take out the address her father had given her.

"Sweetheart, we know that you are an introvert and you wouldn’t want to stay with crowds. This address will take you to the cottage we rented for you. "Don't stay in the hostels." Her father’s voice echoed in her mind, and a wide smile spread across her face. She hailed a cab and asked the driver to take her to the written address.

"The first thing I have to do in the cottage is to call Pete." She made a mental note for herself, smiling.

"What?" Twirling around, she asked the cab driver, who had been giving her awkward looks since she handed the address to him.

Shaking his head, the cabbie asked her to hop in, and they zoomed off. Heather didn’t know how many hours the man had been driving, but she was woken up by a tap on her shoulder.

"Have we reached it?" She yawned lazily and asked. The cabman took out her suitcase and asked her to come out. Heather looked at her surroundings, and she was shocked. The place looked abandoned and dirty. It didn’t seem like a person had ever resided there. Not far from where she was standing, there stood an incomplete, abandoned building. It looked really ugly from outside.

"Are you sure this is the right address?" She twirled around to ask the cabman, but she was shocked when she found him gone. Opening the note on her hand, she read the address and compared it to the one written on the board beside her. "909 Bravelline Street." It read. It was exactly like the one on the board.

"Dad said it was a nice cottage. "What is this house, and with the same address?" She asked herself, taking off her phone from her pocket. When she tried to call the dialed number, a rough hand from behind snatched her phone.

"Hey..that’s mi…" She couldn’t complete her sentence when she saw a heavily built man wearing dirty orange overalls standing behind her, her phone between his cracked, dirty fingers. She looked up at him and gasped. A wide cut mark passed across his face, and fresh maroon-colored, thick blood oozed from it.

"Heather Berritton?" The man asked, smirking

"No..i mean…y..yes." She stammered, with chills running down her spine.

"Follow me." The man was ordered to walk towards the unfinished building.

The flowers in the front garden were long dead. The grass was knee-length. The paint was flaking from the window frames. The man pushed open the front door, and a rotten smell hit her. Covering her nose, she stepped in, looking around. Furniture was carelessly arranged, and the floorboards were uneven and cracky.

There were smears of a red substance, which she couldn't tell if it was blood or red paint, all over the furniture. There were patches of damp mold creeping up the walls. The windows were sealed from inside; the only light in there was from the dirty, cracked bulb on the wall, which illuminated a dim light.

"It’s barely been a minute since you came in here and you are already uncomfortable." "How do you think you are going to survive for the rest of the year before your order is taken?" The man asked her in a mocking tone, gesturing at her hand, which had covered her nose.

"For the rest of the year. I came to school, sir. "Perhaps you got the wrong girl." Hearth explained looking around. The man scoffed, disappearing into the next room.

"The boss called you in." The man told her coming out.

Walking to the other room, she met a familiar man sitting on a folding, red-painted wooden chair, smocking. "You remember me, lassie?" He smirked as he strangled his overgrown white beard.

Heather gasped, stepping backwards. "Where have I seen this man?" She asked herself. She became mute and shocked at the same time when her memories recalled him clearly. He was the teacher her dad had introduced her to. The teacher whom her spirit didn’t sit well with.

"Teacher. Alejendro, is this a ballet academy?" She stammered through her words, trying to form a perfect sentence.

"Silly. You are so naive. Didn’t your father explain everything to you? I thought I asked him to?" Alejendro smirked, puffing some smoke on her nose.

Coughing, Heather held her nose, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. "Maybe Pete was right." She whisphered.

"Come again." Alejendro said, a sinister smile spreading across his face. "Anyway, lass, you better sleep. "Tomorrow I’ll have to explain everything to you since your dad failed to fulfill his duty." Upon saying that, he turned his broad back against her and walked out.

"Where am I to sleep?" She asked, looking around. What she saw were folding chairs, which couldn’t accommodate her.

"Anywhere, lass. It’s none of my business. You can decide to sleep while standing. Nobody is gonna ask you." He rudely answered her and walked away, leaving her world crumbling.