My first ever fanfiction and story on this site - more like EVER! I want to make a good first impression since I worked hard on it. I'm honestly nervous on what you guys think, but this is one way to practice writing, which I LOVE doing by the way, so please, read! I would appreciate any comment, whether opinions or criticism. I'm a beginner at this so again, be gentle. LOL. I do not own Vampire Diaries! As much as everyone here reading wants to as well, we sadly are mere storytellers of our own versions of the original tale. Two points of view . . . Heidi and Chardonnay. Enjoy it, read it, and review it if you can! -Lady Shiri

Chapter One

Left To Their Imagination

-The New World-

1024

"Heidi!" I looked up from my work, frightened to face my mistress' snapping impatience. It took me a moment to realize I had been frozen with apprehension for she yelled in her crisp voice again, "Heidi!"

Collecting my thoughts, I rushed to my feet and nearly tripped at the edges of my already torn skirt. "Coming!"

I ran out of the meeting hall after stacking the books correctly and didn't notice my aunt exiting out of the dinning hall. Even with my lack of acknowledgement, she understood my haste since these occurences had happened too many times throughout the years. It was better for my sake to humor Yvonne before she followed on her tendencies to punish me for my laziness. Upon reaching her door, I took a calming breath and forced my anxiety to the deepest part of my stomach. My mistress was not a kind woman indeed, but I could not force her to change for a girl she obviously did not care for.

"Yvonne?" I called out unevenly, cursing myself when my voice wavered with uncertainty.

In the silence, I could literally hear the smirk in Yvonne's voice as she snapped at me to get in. As she stood in front of me, my mistress was a beautiful girl of twenty three years. Her golden ringlets were combed away from her pale oval face, her skin was flawless and clear from the lack of dirty work, and her doe-like eyes shone under the color of spring grass. They proceeded to narrow at my figure, a nasty glint flashing in those green orbs. She abruptly turned and threw her wooden brush at me.

Catching it with ease, I swallowed nervously when she seemed displeased at my fast reflexes. "You wish for me to brush your hair?"

"Was I not clear enough?" Yvonne growled harshly. "And wash your hands. My hair is not a rag to clean the dirt in them." After doing as she said, she allowed me to comb through her soft curls as I always did when we were younger. When I accidentally yanked too hard, she let out a peeved hiss. "Gentler, Heidi!"

"Forgive me-"

"Slow as a snail, are we?"

"It has been a long morning . . ." I replied carefully.

After another agitated glare, she settled back into her seat with a hard scowl that twitched upward at each slow breath. "Just mind what you are doing!"

I could not help but envy her slightly - though not for her appearance or her terrible personality - but for the amount of freedom she was entitled to at birth. I was given the same right which I unwillingly lost as a child out of desperation from my family to enter into the new world. Yvonne could do most of what she wanted to and was not bound by servitude to another family. After Tatia, Yvonne was also courted by many suitors and crowded by rows of admirers. Friends were not hard to come by for a woman such as her, despite her rotten characteristics of greed and vanity.

"A new group of people have arrived, fresh from sea." When I stayed silent, Yvonne faced me again with a raised eyebrow. "Well?"

"Yes Yvonne?"

She shot me an annoyed sneer before returning to her train of thought. "I can only imagine the stories they will tell of the world outside this miniscule of a village. Are you not excited to meet with such people - well, that is if you shall ever meet them?"

I meekly nodded, not knowing what to say. It was unlike Yvonne to confide her thoughts in me, but her obvious eagerness seemed to roll off her aura in crashing waves. She was hardly standing still in front of the mirror as she unsuccessfully worked to keep her composure. "Y-Yes, I suppose. I had heard about them."

Her eyes snapped back to me questioningly. "Have you no curiosity about these men?"

"Men?" I repeated in a blank tone. That was embarrassingly not what I had heard from Tatia.

She sighed dejectedly, "I should have not asked such a question to you, a virgin. You of all people have no knowledge of that subject."

My cheeks flamed with embarrassment. I suppose not . . . From the sheets I had cleaned from Yvonne's room, I knew without a doubt that Yvonne was anything but innocent.

I had mentioned this to Aunt Sylvia who had made me swore not to gossip of such things, especially with Tatia. She too was not pure, but she was better than Yvonne in most ways, even with a child perched on her arm. Looking around her room, I fought back a pathetic whimper for I had already spent half the day cleaning her quarters. Piles of dresses, once folded, were scattered over the bed and her things were pushed from the shelves to the floor in messy stacks. She liked things spotless and neat when she brought home friendly guests whom I also sworn not to mention, specifically to her parents.

"Then again it is not like you to hold any charm to any man, witch." Despite the sting of her words, I kept silent and finished the twines of her hair. Glancing at her reflection, a narcissistic look passed her face and a self-satisfied smile appeared on her lips. She was obviously pleased with my braiding work but would never mention that aloud. She was too prideful for that. "I want you to clean my room, Heidi. I shall be heading to the village with my companions. If fortune is on my side, I will meet these foreigners that my parents have mentioned with immense interest."

"Yes, Yvonne."

She brushed past my shoulder, her lips twitching downward. "Finish your work before you scamper off to that pathetic friend of yours. Tatia, is it?" When I didn't answer, she scoffed with clear pomposity. "Any friend is better than none, I can only imagine, even if it is the village strumpet."

How dare she!

Yvonne grinned at my obvious indignation. "You, my precious Heidi, have nothing to say. You can't."

I could only sigh with relief when the door closed behind me and collapsed to the floor, taking a deep breath and closing my eyes shut. A part of me was immediately ashamed for not defending my oldest and only friend. Tatia was someone I admired; she was not swayed so easily like I was, and had the courage to remain standing tall even after giving birth to a human being. Even if she had been spoken for at a much younger age, Tatia was still greatly desired in this village. Her determination was something I wanted for myself, as selfish as that sounded, but I knew I would never acquire such a thing.

To others, I seemed weak and soft-willed. But were they right to say those things? Staring at my reflection from the glass, I met my alarming gaze. Perhaps.

It was clear that I held no challenge compared to Yvonne's beauty or class. A messy braid of light blond waves framed an oval face, a small mouth with a full bottom lip that seemed to overpower her top one, and a button nose. Dirt was smudged across my temple, a faint scar at the edge of my chin, and abnormal eyes completed my faded portrait. Jaded green thinly layered around the irises with hazel brown filling in its middle. At the outer edges of the circles were strange mixtures of violet and blue - indigo, perhaps? My stare either striked fascination or fear, but I knew no witchcraft.

I am no witch, I repeated to myself with newfound determination. I too fear what I do not know. Refusing to drown in my thoughts, I jumped to my feet and continued on my work.

My small family - that consisted of myself, Aunt Sylvia, and Uncle Johan - were thankful to Yvonne's parents for allowing us to join their travels into entering the new world. My parents had perished in our home village by the plague as many others did; they were only two of the many that died in those dark times. It had been a horrendous experience as a child, both frightening and captivating; the new smells, the different sights, and the interesting natives of the neighboring village. Hopefully, I would not go through a merciless thing again in the near distant future, but who was I to question fate?

Fresh sheets were placed on the bed and her clothes were all folded into neat lines at the shelves, taking a very long time to organize. I gathered the dirty fabrics and made my way to the back way, conscientiously noting not to create much noise. Yvonne was the only exception to the rule, considering she was in other words, a mistress of the house. As it was usual for women to be traded or married off for the welfare of her family at a young age, Yvonne's parents had no need for any more horses or fabrics. They were well off with living on their own wealth.

I could not be married for I had no dowry or no personal appeal to catch a man's interest. Besides, I was a servant and my life was not mine exclusively. I cannot leave this household . . .

There was a pool of water behind the large house of stone that was used for cleaning clothes. The manmade shafts were filled to the brink when Aunt Sylvia overflowed them with water from the village wells. I inclined my head when I approached Magdalene, a show of respect. As atrocious Yvonne was to me, I was somewhat attached to her parents. They treated us kindly, fairly, and hardly abused their power compared to some wealthy landowners on the outskirts of the village. She, besides Tatia and my family, was immune to my anomalous gaze.

She patted my forearm gingerly, following me to the kitchen. "Heidi . . ."

Magdalene was a kind-hearted woman and knew of Yvonne's horrible treatment, taking pity on me as usual. I appreciated it when Magdalene scolded Yvonne of her actions - though it was an unusual act done merely once in a while. Nevertheless, thanks to her several interferences, I was not pushed around that much opposed to when Yvonne and I were kids. Back then, I fell for every word her beautiful daughter sprouted out from her mouth, and after years of deceit, I could tell which words were truth and lie that fell from her reddened lips.

"Is it not a beautiful afternoon?"

Politely, I offered a nod. "Yes, it is lovely weather."

"I had guessed you to be with Tatia by now. Today is too good to waste indoors," she remarked softly.

"Not today, no," I responded with a quick frown. The heavy pile of clothes in my arms were starting to make my muscles sore and strained. "I decided to finish my chores before the sun sets."

She pursed her lips. "Do not take too long, child. You are a pale girl. Sunlight will do you well."

"Perhaps after?" I asked warily, uncomfortable with her persistency.

Magdalene gave me a soft smile. "Do not be so shy, Heidi. You have not acted wrongly."

Sheepish, I nodded again and continued my way to the buckets of water outside. "Yes, Magdalene."

The back garden was facing the forests, the vast entrance to the unknown. Under the sun, it had wonders; though under the moon, it dangerously led my imagination toward objects of righteous fear. I had delved through the paths a few times with Tatia by my side, but I also took care with where I went and never stayed in the meadows too long to cause my aunt and uncle worry. With a lasting glance at the woods, I hurriedly returned to my work. The faster I could finish this, the quicker I could speak to Aunt Sylvia; she deserved that much recognition.

Adding to my growing joy, Magdalene and I had not spoken too soon. The weather was simply perfect with gentle winds, sunshine, and cooling shade. Dragging the remaining wet cloths to the threaded lines - to hang beside the row I had already finished, I finally felt my arms and legs burn from the hauling and lifting. I stretched for a while, pausing to let the breeze pass through my drenched figure in peaceful silence. The only sounds I heard were from the kitchens, sharp yet crisp against my eardrums.

My stomach began to grumble. "Oh!" It was Aunt Sylvia's territory of fire, meat, and dough. If there was time after all the jobs Yvonne assigned, I welcomed the lessons that she taught me concerning the stove, and when my talents became apparent, Magdalene would sometimes permit me to help in the kitchen when an extra hand was needed.

I hurriedly lifted the sheets in my hands after I was fully rested. Using the last of the clips, the drying clothes began to sway with the wind. I'll have to return to these before night falls, I noted to myself. It was best to watch out for sly thieves or greedy neighbors.

Before I could walk to the shade, a branch nosily broke behind me. I whirled around, my eyes set forward charily. "Who's there?"

It was an unwelcomed surprise to see another's gaze meeting mine. Oak brown orbs held shock and incredulity as they studied my face which perplexed me to no end. Must he stare at me so bluntly?

With long twisted brown waves, high cheekbones, and a very strong square jaw, he was dressed fashionably with rich and textured clothes. He was a very handsome man, and to my guess, towered over me easily with my head barely reaching his chin. His dark locks brushed over his forehead as he silently drew nearer. Closer, the man looked to be past twenty-five years. Twenty-six maybe? Another branch broke under his boot, breaking the daze I was tightly caught in. It did not take long for dread to fill me. I suddenly realized that I was alone with a stranger, a man no less, and opened my mouth to speak out but no words came out.

"Please wait." His sudden warm stare had somehow hypnotized me into silence. "I did not mean to startle you."

Once again, my stomach swirled cordially at the sound of his voice; the words were pronounced awkwardly with his foreign tongue. I attempted to speak, blushing when I made a fool of myself. "Er, y-you s-surprised me. W-What is it that brought you here?" When he didn't answer and only stared, I became worried if I unknowingly offended him. He had to be the foreigner Yvonne had told me of earlier, so would that mean he did not comprehend what I said? "I apologize. I-It was not my intention to upset you by being straightforward."

To my complete bafflement, he started to laugh. It was a steady tone filled with absolute wonder. Catching sight of my confusion, he composed himself, though the smile didn't leave his noticable face. "It is I who should apologize. I have yet to explain myself."

"Yes," I found myself answering breathily, "please do."

The man took one step forward, and in response, I automatically scuttled back; I was still unsure of his intentions or of who he was. A frown marred my face when he raised his hands as a show of mock surrender. It felt like he was toying with me. "I separated myself from my family to inspect the woods. The peacefulness is refreshing."

". . . And?"

"I simply allowed nature to lead me here." The corner of his lips tugged upward. Was that meant to be a jest?

The sentences slipped from my mouth before I could stop myself. "Y-You did not favor being inspected by the entire village on your, um, walk. You too know that they gossip."

He nodded, smirking slightly. "It has happened before so I do not blame them. People cannot help their burning curiosity . . . and who better to ask than my family and I? We are mere tellers of what lie outside this community."

Chary, I glanced back at the house before crossing my arms on my chest. I could only imagine Yvonne's outrage toward me if she ever found out about our meeting, but I couldn't help my regards to this particular man. He clearly left an undeniable impression of authority, strength, and power. My heart pounded against my chest, flooding my ears with the loud beats of blood rushing through my veins. Why am I so nervous? I must calm down. "Did you travel far?"

"Days, yes. It was an unclaimed victory when we arrived yesterday." He said it in a way that seemed as a personal joke between him and his closest of friends.

"It is hard to believe an experienced traveler such as yourself was lost."

"I am a stranger to this land," he shrugged nonchalantly, but I was frozen by the impetuous smolder in his eyes.

This is questionable association, my conscience whispered to me but I ignored the instinct to flee. There was something about him that pulled me to him like a flower's nectar attracted bees. Was this what Tatia called attraction? "But I do hope that we should not be."

He appeared pleased with himself the moment my heart skipped a beat with his words. Do think that Yvonne will react badly of this. What will Aunt Sylvia say of this? Finally convinced, I reluctantly pointed to the side of the house. When people usually avoided my way, he had been the only one to show such curiosity towards me before, and that was something I was not used to. "Then I should be the first to welcome you, traveler. You found your way back to them. . . . Though I must suggest that you leave before you are spotted by the mistress of this house."

The man followed my finger to the trail. "Will you grace me with your name?"

If you grace me with yours, a voice murmured in my head. I shook my head warily, wanting to hit myself for my impulsiveness. Do not forget, Heidi. I am but a servant . . . My life was not mine to live, not anymore. "Will you be offended if I say you have not earned my trust in knowing my name?"

"Then I will earn your trust." He sent me a smile before he disappeared down the pathway. "May your afternoons be kind."

"To you as well."

Dazed, I stayed there for some time; my mind was overwhelmed with the conversation I had with the stranger, a handsome one at that. He is rather arrogant in learning my name, is he not?

A sigh escaped my lips, full of longing and . . . interest? He would surely be disappointed once he found out who I was - one of the village's alleged witches or a lowly servant. I had nothing to offer yet would he still wish my company, romantic or platonic, to see past my poverty? One can only hope. With that final thought, I slowly retreated back inside to continue on with my day.

-New York City, New York State-

2009

Sigh.

Quirking an eyebrow at the person sitting on the driver's seat, I glanced up from my touchscreen. On this road alone that was the eighth sigh, and we drove past a lot of roads. I was beginning to wonder if the twenty-five year old hotshot had a problem with driving his boss' kids to the airport. Just because he was young and cute - total eye candy for the middle-aged socialites at the country club, it didn't mean he had everything handed to him by my father in a bronze platter, a very cheap rip-off of the sterling silver version.

Then again, I acted somewhat similar to the rookie. As if sensing my irritation, my younger brother reached over and grabbed my hand in a tight hold, intertwining our fingers together. Calm down, his gaze ordered me. He knew how anxious I was behind my calm demeanor.

With a smile, I tightened my grip, allowing myself a deep intake of breath; this was our silent support system. Thank you . . .

After years of neglect from our workaholic father and our drunk of a mother - even past our older sister's abandonment when she eloped with her boyfriend during her junior year in college, Winslow and I were still a team. We were the two that defeated the odds at a very young age, and I wouldn't know what I would do without him; he was just that important to me. Our pairing system worked since we both hit puberty, the golden moment when we realized our happy family was everything but happy.

It was funny how things changed the same time I began to see the world in a different light, and it had to be around the moment when my hormones were raging. My thoughts were either on boys or my messed up family then back to boys again - the unending cycle of my early teenage years. I gave Winslow a genuine smile that was only for his eyes and leaned back into black leather seat, my eyes returning to my phone. Of course, I had to get the last thought; stupid driver.

Closing my eyes, I drifted into my thoughts with a slight frown. This is it. We are really leaving New York behind.

For some reason, I didn't feel like it was the end of the world. Living here for almost seventeen years, people would have presumed I'd be crying. But I'm not leaving anything behind. The things I would have missed from this city either left years ago or it simply wasn't there - just the faint illusion of what I wanted to exist but never did. Perhaps I was somewhat bitter, but I would never catch myself saying that aloud, especially in front of my brother. I wouldn't allow him to be distracted by my own selfishness of wanting a release from all of the weight, and didn't want him focused on my strife at all.

The drop-off to the airport was quick and painless. The driver, who I later discovered to be called Brent, hurriedly dumped our luggage at the curb before jumping into the car and disappearing at the next turn. Well at least he didn't ask for a tip, I thought rather darkly.

Despite his prestige, my father could be cheap sometimes. My brother shot me a questioning glance as if to say, what was his problem? I made a face at him in reply. How the hell would I know? It was my turn to let out a tired sigh and moodily picked up my two apple green suitcases before storming to the double glass doors.

"Ready for exile?" I asked Winslow as we pushed our way inside the terminal.

"That's not funny," he muttered, giving me an oh-so-helpful shove at the upcoming crowd; Winslow was not up for my moods.

"Hey, precious cargo over here," I whined. Human traffic was a bitch, especially when a woman twice my age shoved past me. She narrowly avoided elbowing my eye and hit my cheekbone instead, unappreciatively carrying on like nothing had happened. I was very tempted in calling her a lot of impolite words, but my attention transferred to my fallen stuff when literally no one offered assistance. What nice people . . .

My carry-on was forced off my shoulder and it fell to the floor with an echoing thud. It got kicked a few times by the very rude ones of the bunch, sliding smoothly to the exact opposite direction of my intended gate. "Great," I growled under my breath.

When I managed to collect my things without another incident, Winslow was waiting at the line. He had that cute worry look on his face, and I fought the urge to tease him - a duty naturally given to the oldest sibling. "What happened to your face?"

"Is it that obvious? Some hag got me there." I groaned, wincing when he pressed too hard. "Hey!"

Much to my disbelief, we were the seventh in line. I impatiently eyed the elderly couple at the front, boredly watching them as they struggled with their stacks of heavy luggage. My temper was seriously wearing thin; I wasn't exactly the most patient person alive. To be honest, I only wanted to get on that plane, reach whatever small town our father was sending us to, and simmer down in a hot bath that I rightly deserved. Who cared about my aching feet anyways? Thankfully, someone with upright morals appeared and assisted them to the counters.

"Do I need to put you on a leash?"

I looked back at my younger brother with a grin growing on my face. "Ew, Winnie. Sounds dirty."

He smacked me at the shoulder, not enough to hurt but it still stung. "You seriously need a filter for that mouth of yours."

"Jeez, after years living with me I would've thought you'd be used to it by now."

"I thought the same thing, sis." Winslow replied tiredly. Without a care, I brushed on makeup to cover the growing bruise and tossed the hand mirror to my handbag. Playing on my phone while Winslow kept lookout took my mind off of things for a while. It was after twenty painful minutes of waiting that my composure cracked and my playful mood began to drop; we were only second in line. My brother caught my discomfort and scoffed. "You shouldn't have worn high heels."

"Shut up," I mumbled, "I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to,"

I stretched my ankles, wincing when I heard a joint pop. "These babies are latest fashion so forgive me when I feel like showing off."

"To who?" Winslow snorted unattractively.

I didn't have to answer and nodded my head to the attendant at the far right. The girl with dirty blond hair and light makeup discreetly leaned into the counter. She could've been in her late twenties with somewhat nice cheekbones, thin lips, and permanent dimples on her left cheek. Her baby blue eyes lowered to my feet and I easily caught the jealous glint. Hmm, totally worth it.

My brother shook his head at me. Even when he was the youngest of three, it was no denying he acted way beyond his age and much more mature than both of his elder sisters. I crossed my arms with an almost bored expression. "Do you have an idea on where we're going anyways?"

He frowned at me, almost disappointedly. "You don't even know where we're flying to?"

"As long as it's far away from Daddy Dearest, I don't exactly care," I snapped.

Disapproval flashed in his face before he decided to answer. Winslow didn't have a great relationship with our father either and let my bitterness pass, at least just this once. "Do you remember Mom's cousin in Virginia?"

"Should I?"

"Char . . ."

Feeling a bit guilty about making this harder for my younger brother, I straightened up. I was supposed to go solo on this trip, but my brother knew loyalty like no one else did and chose to go with me. New York wasn't exactly home sweet home, but it was where we were raised in all our lives. He was sacrificing a lot for my sake, regarding education and relationships. Exile meant what it was supposed to; we weren't allowed to have any communication with the rest of our family, and I guess that was what pushed Winslow to do what he did. He couldn't handle being away from me that long, and without having me say a word, he knew I couldn't either.

With a grumble, I answered more enthusiastically, "Sorry, no. I don't know Mom's cousin. Did we meet her before?"

"When we were kids . . . I think she sent us that Christmas card."

"The cheap one with the mini Christmas ornaments?" I asked, grinning at his slight glare. "You know, you should remember that the rest of us don't have photographic memory like you do."

Before he could come up with a witty comeback, the attendant who had eyed my shoes called out, "Next please!"

Thankfully, Winslow took care of heaving our bags to the platform before it was shipped deeper into the airport. My luggage was embarrassingly a few pounds heavier than the limit, but we managed by paying the extra fee. I avoided looking at the reprimanding glare on my younger brother's face. He had warned me about this earlier, but I chose to ignore him like I usually did when I lacked interest to the things he had to say - like this trip. For someone at sixteen years of age, he was seriously too mature for his own good. Kind of a buzz kill, but then again, he wouldn't be Winslow if he wasn't.

The attendant called on another woman as our temporary caretaker since Winslow and I were both underage. Seventeen apparently wasn't good enough for them. "Chardonnay and Winslow Blackburn, correct?" We nodded with slight smiles and she nodded with a tight-lipped smile. She didn't seem to like teenagers at all. "Well, let's go. Your flight is in an hour and you still need to go through procedures, the metal detectors first while they slide your things through the x-rays."

Mutely, we followed the speedy woman to another long line and waited our turn in silence. Cheryl was stiff and awkward with her movements, always bumping into other people and stubbing her big toe into things - definitely not her day to wear open-toed heels. I bit back a laugh when she slammed into a hot pink Disney suitcase, nearly toppling over that poor little girl, and I received yet another disapproving stare. The metal detectors were passed through with ease; I was secretly thankful for listening to Winslow about this before we left the penthouse. As a prideful girl, I didn't want to look like an idiot by stripping off handfuls of golden jewelry with rows of people just staring at me.

When we arrived at the terminal five minutes ahead of schedule, the lounge was half-filled with a few people. "It looks deserted," I noted aloud.

Cheryl was quick to answer, pointedly ignoring my dry tone. "For some people, this is an indirect flight to Richmond, Virginia, then to Orlando, Florida."

I glanced at Winslow and plopped down on the cushioned seat. It oddly smelled of sweat, plastic, and coffee. A shiver crawled up my spine and I crossed my legs together, glaring at the passer-by who dared to look past my bent knees. "What's in Richmond again?"

"It's in Virginia, Char. From there we're taking a car to a small town. It's probably an hour or two drive away."

"What town?" I questioned interestedly.

He clicked through his phone. A few taps later, Winslow answered, "Some place called Mystic Falls."

My face scrunched up in confusion. "What kind of name is Mystic Falls?"

"Mom's cousin, remember, or our first cousin once removed? She lives there."

I clarified, "So they're that distant family then?"

Winslow made a face at my poor wording. Our folks were very strict on associations - suffocatingly so, all raised on the belief that anyone insignificant was to be left unapproached; Mother was the only exception, though it wasn't an unanimous decision within the Blackburn family. If my mom's cousin lived in Virginia, then there was no doubt they didn't come from the so-called better side of our family tree. I couldn't really imagine living in a different state other than New York, disregarding the fact that my family and I had traveled repeatedly between America and Eastern Europe.

It was a little ironic we didn't travel anywhere else in the US other than California and Florida, where other privileged distant families stereotypically lived. "They're still family," he muttered, sharing my annoyance at our father's high expectations.

Winslow turned off his phone when I didn't reply. There wasn't anything else for me to say as our limited time drew to a close. This was goodbye New York, hello Virginia. I turned off mine when attendants started to gather at the front of the terminal. "Finally," I sighed under my breath.

We turned to Cheryl, not shocked when she looked a bit too relieved. I would've been laughing in amusement if I hadn't felt rather miffed. "Well, your plane's here. Have a good flight, two of you." We managed to nod as she left hastily, but only I was sneering at her small back.

First class was first to board and we made our way to the front of yet another line. The woman there gave us warm smiles, swiped our tickets, and gave them back - just like that. Quietly, I screamed with relief until I faced the pathway - four rectangular walls of a disguised death trap. Oh, crap.

"Enjoy your flight," the attendant cheerfully offered as encouragement.

My brother smiled. "Thanks. Char, let's go . . ."

Slightly shaking with nervousness, I forced myself to swallow. My anxieties were returning to me again. Call it claustrophobia or paranoia, I unquestionably hated tight, closed spaces. When I reached out to my left to take Winslow's hand as support, all I grasped was air. He had gone ahead of me, unwittingly leaving me to myself. Damn. Vile was coming up my throat, and my stomach wasn't doing so well either. "Char?" My brother called over his shoulder.

Relax. Calm down. It's just a cylinder hunk of metal that will safely take you from New York to Virginia. I sauntered toward the hallway that, more or less, led to my death and noticed that Winslow was considerably further away from me.

Hurrying my pace, I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it on the last second. I didn't need Winslow to worry even more. Yes, it's safe. It's only going to be thirty-three thousand feet up in the air. That's nothing, really. My insides twisted at the thought of twisted metal and choking smoke. What am I thinking? I'll be fine. I'm better than this.

Gathering my lost confidence, I hesitantly took one step forward before faltering on the next. Damn my claustrophobia. The smell of the airplane really got to me hard, igniting the nerves I had already calmed. Plastic . . . metal . . . stale air. Against my wishes, the hallways seemed to darken out before there was nothing in front of me but black. In that position, my worries ceased and everything else didn't matter. At least, not anymore.