"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same."
— Emily Brontë
Lightning. Thunder. Lightning. It was a pattern that danced across the night sky, brightening it for a while before it turned dark again. It was this very storm that made Olivia clutch tighter to her sweater and close her eyes. As she listened to the thunder booming and the lightening strike, Olivia silently prayed the bus would pull into Port Angeles.
While Port Angeles wasn't her true destination, it was where she would be getting off the bus while she waited for her uncle. Her true destination was Forks, a place she had fond memories of, and a place she would call home for the forseeable future.
"Please let it end..." Olivia clamped her eyes shut as the booming thunder rang in her ears. She didn't mind thunder storms, and often she liked watching them, though she didn't love the idea of being caught in a thunderstorm while on a bus.
When she opened her eyes, she brushed her hair out of her face and looked out the window with slightly wide eyes. The raindrops that pound against the window were thick, heavy drops that matched the storm outside, and her mood.
"We're nearly there." The man that was sitting in the seats across from her, comforted the small girl he was with, and without knowing, had comforted Olivia as well.
"Thank God." Olivia turned her eyes away from the window she was looking out of, and toward the approaching bus station. When the bus had pulled into the station, and the doors had been opened, Olivia jumped out of her seat and grabbed the solitary suitcase she had bring and dashed off.
"Thank god. I made it. Thank god."