A/N: Hi guys! So I know it's been a while since I've updated but shit's hit the fan and I've had to help clean it up if you know what I mean :P So once again T for triggers, self harm. Enjoy! :D (Official song lyrics are in bold, her adaptations are not)(I've never been to Heathrow, I don't know what it's like)

-Amy :)

Amy's POV

What if a nightmare is reality? What if we're sleeping when we're awake? Does that mean we live the same lives over and over again? Relive the same pain and torture? And then forget in the heat of the moment, the one where you scar yourself yet again, only aware you've done it once. What if they're both different realities? What if they clashed years and years ago, only visible in dreams? Hallucinations? But we all just tuck it into the back of our minds because we're afraid of the unknown.

Those are my last thoughts as we part ways outside the station. We planned eachother's holidays. Her dream was always to see the sites in London, mine to visit the Library of Congress and Mount St Helens. So we planned it for eachother. Exchanging eachother's tickets there and then, we hug for the last time in a week and set off, alone. I start walking along the busy pavement, my thick brown and ginger hair getting in the way. I notice someone else with hair to match mine; she looks the same age yet completely different. She looked all... girly. Yuck. She is wearing a floral shirt with a wet-look skirt, her makeup-clad face pointed down, away from the wind. It's a strange feeling that she chose to be girly. That she has a girly life. That she makes girly choices and probably had girly friends. It's strange imagining someone else's life. There are infinite possibilities, it really could be any but as soon as you know the right one, you know there could be no other.

Lost in thought, I walk straight past where I want to go. Awkwardly turning back, I try my best to squeeze through the people in my way. It's so unfortunate that I have a suitcase. It just makes it all the more harder. After a lot of disgruntled apologizing and 'Excuse me's, I'm though, back to the taxi rank.

It's a squat yellow office with ripped chairs and a vending machine that looks like the stock is from three years ago. It smells like booze, too. It's disgusting really, but I can't pick and choose when I've got to be at the airport to catch the flight in 3 hours. The dead silence is almost unnerving. I can almost feel the cold of the laminate flooring through my well worn converses. I can taste the beer of which was drank in this office. It's scary.

"Ahem."

I clamp my mouth shut, determined not to scream. I turn around slowly, my hands retreating into the sleeves of my Superman jumper. My face, plastered with shock, turns bright red at the mistake I made. It must be the employee.

"Oh! Uhm, hi. Can you tell me how much a taxi to Heathrow Airport is, please?"

He tells me a price which I deem suitable and we shake on it. He ushers me out of the miniature yellow office, and out toward a London Black Cab. Typical Britain. No wonder it has stereotypes. My Marvel back is hung over my shoulder as I climb in, after putting my suitcase in the seat next to me.

"It's going to be a while in midday traffic." He said, but I'm not bothered. I might have to rush a little at the airport but at least now I hate time to reflect. I start rifling through my bag, looking for my headphones. I connect them first to my phone, then my ears and scroll for a bit, searching for a song. Vampire Banquet stands out to me, like a favourite song always does. So I hit play and contemplate the lyrics, as I always do.

Ivory Ceilings, Burgundy walls

Ivory Ceilings, Ivory walls

There's blood I can feel it, as we float through the halls

There's blood I can feel it, as it's soaking my arms

And when you bite my skin, the whole room gets dim

And when I cut my skin, the whole room goes dim.

It carries on like that. Just like in the song, I know what it's like to be locked in a room. In a room, an a house, in my mind. I was stuck in my house, now I'm stuck in my mind. And there's no getting out.

The song finishes and as per, the next one plays. Daniel in The Den by Bastille.

Found in the night, by the ones you think you love. They will come for you.

This always gets to me. How true it is. With Mike, with my family, with myself. I think or thought I loved each one. But then they came for me. First my family, then Mike, then myself. Our rather that mind that I'm locked away inside. The song carries on playing, like the sun will always rise, the show will almost go on, it's inevitable. So it plays. And finishes. And the next one begins and so on. Before I know it I'm zoned out, and the driver has to lean over his seat and tap me on the shoulder to get my attention, scaring me half to death. This always happens when I'm in my own little world. I wish I could come to reality in my own time.

Without hesitation, I paid the driver the taxi fare and a tip, then left the car in search of an entrance to Heathrow. Spotting a family of four, I follow them into a pair of double doors and through the other side. This must be the Departures Hall. Unsure what to do, I ask an attendant. She gives me a stern look, like I'm 12, not 20. She guides me through what to do at each stage anyway, then I nod, say thanks and proceed to check in.

Soon enough I'm sat comfortably on an aisle seat, on my own. The plane isn't very full, just about twenty people dotted here and there, and a few children being wrestled into seats by their mothers whilst the fathers try to flirt with the air hostess. I picked a row where I would be on my own, I wouldn't and couldn't bother anyone around me.

"In ten minutes we will ask you to either put your phones off, or on aeroplane mode. Thank you, and enjoy your flight."

Unable to resist, I phone Emma.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

As per usual she picks up on the fourth ring.

"AMY! I told you you're not supposed to call me until you get there!"

"I know, I'm sorry, I have ten minutes before I turn my phone off and wanted to spend it with you." We always do that, pretend we're an old married couple. It helps pass the time.

"Ah darling, so romantic! Ten minutes? I didn't you on a prison flight!"

" Oh, my precious 87 year old, anywhere is a prison without you!" I get strange looks. Well done, Amy.

"I bet you're getting weird looks? Now, don't reveal my cougar secrets, dearie! You merely think I'm twenty. Actually I'm a 90 year old who uses Olay regenerate moisturizing cream!" Actually, she looks about 18 instead of 20. It's odd. It's probably all the makeup she wears, all to end up looking like a little porcelain doll.

"Regenerate? Moisturize? Are you a Timelord or Cassandra the Last Human? Choose your loyalty... OR FATALITY! " I hear her giggles on the other end of the conversation. An announcement tells me to turn my phone off, and we say goodbye before I do.

Was that really ten minutes? It felt like a heartbeat.

I rifle through my bag again to pull out one of two Capri Suns. That's all I'm allowed to bring into America and its airspace, for seven hours. Seven hours is a long time. But still, I'm thirsty. And I've been saving up in both pounds and dollars, and I shall use them if I have to. It takes me a good three minutes to poke the straw through, and I was so focused on it I didn't even notice we had taken off. I thought the jolt in my stomach was from not being able to do it, as I hate that. Soon enough it's in and I'm enjoying the lovely blackcurrant, and pulling out the laptop, once again.

Seeing as I've already done a Christathon today, I decide to check Twitter, Facebook, and why not Tumblr. I see posts about work, engagements, but nothing interesting on Facebook. On twitter it's just the latest fashion trend that everyone's retweeting but I don't care about. Like really don't care. So I go to tumblr and I scroll through Fanfics, imagines, pictures, gifs, funny text posts, videos, everything under the sun. That's why I love Tumblr, it has people like me. We like the same things and it means we can share what we want and everybody just goes with it. Soon enough I stray to that one blog. That one face. That one smile. And it's beautiful. Christian.

I can't resist checking that tumblr. And that channel. And his Facebook and Twitter. Soon I stumble across a post, on his Twitter.

"hello friends its me again i don't like self promoting but i'll be home all weekend so if anyones in washington i hope i see u around okay bye"

I check the date and it's from yesterday, Friday. Wow, could I really meet him? I better keep my eyes peeled! I know I shouldn't keep my hopes up but I can't resist the fact I could meet him. My inner fangirl is going crazy, t! I can't wait for this plane to land even though I'm only 2 hours into the flight. It's the middle of the day, I can't exactly sleep so I have a movie marathon for a bit, watching my favourites online.
First, it's Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone. I love this so much it's indescribable. I grew up with this film. This character. This book. This story. My life's been built around it, I've learned my morals, my personality and how to trust through this series of seven stories, it's crazy. Seeing that familiar Warner Brother's logo appear on the screen, I zone in. I'm not aware of what goes on around me until and air hostess taps me on the shoulder, asking if I'm wanting anything. I'm shivering a little and I noticed that some other people had complimentary blankets supplied by the airline.

"Uhm, yeah. I was wondering if I could get a blanket? I'm a little cold." I bet I sound so stupid. There's no time to dwell on that thought though as she's back in mere seconds, with a cream blanket. Her smile looks fake and her eyes look dead in the middle. I wonder what she's been through. I ask if she's okay.

"Hey, tough day?"

"I guess. Just average, for me."

"Maybe you should take some time off, it looks like your day's being too tough."
"I guess, but this place falls apart without me, thank you for your concern though. I should probably take away that man's beverage since he's done." She gestures over to an empty seat, I think she's looking for an excuse to leave. I let her because I know what that feels like. I press play again and watch Harry enter the trap door first, then Ron and Hermione, soon to save the Wizarding World.

After a while, it ends and I move onto the Hunger Games, and after that I start the Avengers. An hour in, we prepare to land. I don't want to lurch forward and everything fall off my lap, so I start packing away, put my seatbelt on and look forward to my week in paradise.