Coming Home
Hearts beat loudly and minds raced at an insane pace. The world thundered, shaking rapidly.
She was sat right at the front, and she could see it all: the old muddy runway, the swaying trees, the grey sky and the green mountains in the distance as the plane lifted itself and headed towards them, closer and closer, until she realised she was right above them.
Her wet hair dripped on to her ragged clothes and stuck to her cheeks as she gripped on to the armrests of her seat. But she was thankful for that, because maybe that way, the others wouldn't be able to tell that she was crying. She peered out of the small window, the island getting smaller and smaller as they flew to freedom. The place she had, paradoxically, come to know as both heaven and hell; the place where so much had happened, good and bad, and where her life changed forever...they were leaving it. Finally.
She held her breath and felt a warm hand slide over hers. She smiled and turned her head slowly to see James smiling sadly back at her. He didn't need to say anything. His gaze and his touch were enough to comfort her. He squeezed her hand and his eyes gleamed reassuringly, as if to tell her everything would be alright.
Relaxing a little more in her seat, she let a tear fall down past the corner of her smile, and squeezed his hand back in return. Ana-Lucia Cortez was coming home, whether the world was ready for her or not.