New York is a charming city, with its lights, free music, historic landmarks, giant skyscrapers that house multi-million dollar companies, shady schools, pickpockets, random street fights, and killings.

Yes. Wonderful city. But unfortunately, the airport is terrible.

JFK International Airport sucks, to say the least, and the people here are rude. What can you expect from with places to go?

Let me tell you, you can expect a whole lot. I've been randomly insulted several times, shoved into a wall twice, and groped by the guy who spilled coffee on me with no apology.

So here I am in the surprisingly airport clean bathroom, unsuccessfully trying to wring coffee out of the stained shirt after changing into a clean one.

"Honey, you're not getting that bad of a stain out. You'd be better off throwing to shirt away," a black-haired woman who looks to be a janitor says to me.

"Sorry to say I have to agree with you on that one. Pity, I liked this shirt." I sigh and drop it in the trash bin. And as I walk out, in the corner of my eye I see the woman start to dig around the trash bin I dropped my shirt in. She pulls something out that looks suspiciously like said shirt, but I dismiss it. She probably is poor and needs clothes or something. It's not that important.

But getting to my delayed flight is.

"Flight 729 is now boarding," a flight attendant's voice announces. Shoot, Darren has the boarding tickets, and he boards before me. Damn that guy with the coffee. I dash back to Gate 17, and vainly search for Darren in the crowd.

"Drea, your sister wants to talk to you. Have your luggage, cell phone, and boarding pass. Talk to you on the plane," Darren says from behind me, and shoves my stuff at me before disappearing once again. Fantastic friend I have.

"Andrea? You there?" my sister says through the phone.

Putting the phone to my ear, I shoot back, "Where else would I be? Listen Monica, you should've called earlier when our flight had been delayed for about two hours. Now I've got like two seconds to talk to you because I'm boarding now, so what do you want?"

"Drea, I sorry to make this so weird for you, but move at least two feet away from everybody. Now."

I shuffled to a less populated section of the waiting area, figuring that I would make it in time for the last boarding call if my sister needed to talk to me that badly. "Done."

"Right. When you get out of the London-Heathrow Airport, look for the woman with purple hair, and she'll be holding a sign that says 'Erin and Jacob Murphy'. From the moment you touch down in England to the moment you come back, those are your's and Darren's names. Ok? Go with her, you can trust her with your life. I mean it. Now get your ass on the plane, last call for boarding." she finishes, and abruptly hangs up. Wait, what?

"Last call for boarding Flight 729, last call for boarding," the flight attendant's voice announces again. Last call? How did my sister know?

Trying to shrug the foreboding feeling, I hand my boarding pass to the attendant. She glares at me, and shoves it back and I run down the jetway. When I get on the plane, I find that Darren hasn't saved me a seat, and instead, I'm stuck at the very back but thankfully an empty row. Flopping down in the window seat, I start to pull out my Kindle Fire and headphones.

"Do you mind if I sit here? There aren't any other available rows," Someone with British accent says on my left. A very nice-looking someone on my left.

"Do I mind? No, not at all, but I have to warn you, you have to put up with me for nine or so hours," I reply, wondering if this man's personality was as sweet as his face. "I could use somebody to talk to."

The brown-haired boy laughs gaily, and unfortunately, I melt a little on the inside. "I think we'll get along nicely," he says, and sits next to me. Not two seats away, like a polite person, but right next to me.

This is going to be a long flight.

You know when I said that the guy was 'nice-looking'? Forget about that. He's F-ing gorgeous. Rich brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles on pale skin, perfect height of 5' 10". I want to marry this guy for his looks and personality. Oh, and his name is Jared Augles, and from a little town in Durham, wherever that is.

Someone, please, get me a priest.

"Miss? Could you please buckle up, we're landing in half an hour," The flight attendant says while looking annoyed. God, what is with these airline people? Can't they wait five minutes before looking like they're irritated?

But I do what she asks, and the annoying attendant moves on to the next row.

"So, how long are you in England?" Jared recaptures my attention.

I pause for a moment. "I haven't actually thought about that. This was kind of spontaneous trip planned by my sister, and she hasn't really told me how long we'll be here," I say, my mind running back through Monica and I's conversation. Nope, no mention of the length of time I'll be Erin Murphy, possible sister to Jacob Murphy.

"Oh. Well, what city are you staying in?" He asks.

"I don't even know where we're going honestly. She literally sprung this trip on me two days ago." I say, realizing that Monica has pretty much told me nothing. Of course.

"Oh, well alright." And he proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the flight. A.K.A. ten more minutes.

"Passengers, welcome to the London-Heathrow Airport in the United Kingdom. It's about -4 degrees outside, and that translates to about 24 degrees for you Americans, and for everyone else, it's cold enough to wrap yourself in every piece of clothing you've brought with you," the pilot said, earning a few laughs, "We've pulled up to Gate 3B, and we'll be unloading in about two minutes here. Thanks for flying with us, and have a great time in the United Kingdom."

I twist around, stretching out my back for the rush towards the front of the plane that was sure to come. Slowly lifting myself from the seat I'd been trapped in for the last ten or so hours, I glance down the aisle, looking for Darren. Nope, no envy-invoking graceful boy in the plane. Must've gotten off already, always the lucky one.

I pick up my backpack and turn towards Jared, wanting to offer this marriageable boy a last goodbye before some other girl gets him. "Hope you get home safely," I say through only slightly gritted teeth. Well, he was rather rude. But the fact that he's easy on the eyes cancels it out.

Jared flashes yet another stunning smile my way. "Thanks love, and hope you have an enjoyable time in England, wherever you go, and whatever misfortune comes your way. And I promise, we'll meet again soon." With that, he turns and vanishes down the jetway.

What the bleeping fudge was that supposed to mean?

"Drea, did Monica tell you who we're looking for? Because if she didn't, we're stranded in the London-Heathrow Airport with no relations, not nearly enough money, and nowhere to go. And that worries me." Darren rambles the second the cool airport air hits me.

He keeps rambling until I cut in. "Darren, she actually did tell me who to look for. A woman with purple hair. Please stop exercising your OCD, and help me find this lady." No more noise came from by my side. Mission accomplished.

Until he started muttering under his breath, "Purple hair, purple hair. No purple hair. Lavender or magenta? Indigo maybe? Purple hair, purple hair, purple hair..."

This boy drives me to drink, and I'm only seventeen, sadly not even legal here. But who said I haven't broken (quite) a few laws already?

I elbow him in the ribs to shut him up again, right as he half shouts, "Purple hair there!" The crowd around us goes silent and fifty pairs of eyes turn to stare at Darren.

Perfect revenge moment. "I'm sorry, my brother here is a bit mentally handicapped. Please go back to whatever you were doing," I say to everybody while Darren turns to glare at me.

Well hun, serves you right for the time you announced I was your lesbian partner.

Instead of declaring that aloud, I instead settle for the innocent, "Purple hair where?"

Darren shoots me the we-are-discussing-your-unhealthy-behavior-later look, but just points to our right. I follow his gaze, and see a serious looking younger woman, with purple hair of course, of about twenty-five holding up a camera in our direction. She spots us staring, and an easy smile breaks over her face. She waves, and we make our way up to her.

"Hi, you must be Andrea and Darren. Or is it Erin and Jacob?" She says once within earshot, eyes open and friendly.

"I suppose it'll be Erin at the moment," I sigh, "And you are?"

"Someone your sister knows, and goes way back with. And my name is something I'll give to you a soon as we get out of here," She beckons us out the door and into a side parking lot. Purple points to a paint splattered van in the corner. "Sorry that it's not much. This van is all I could get my hands on when your sister called. And you'll have to enter from the side facing the fence, the door on the drivers side is jammed."

Darren inspects the door handle suspiciously for a moment before approving it and joining me in back.

"She's not kidding, the handle's smashed into the car. I'm just hoping that wasn't caused by her," he whispers to me and we go around to the other door. "Ladies first." He smiles, and gestures for me to open the door. I roll my eyes and as I grasp the door handle, something buzzes and I feel a shiver down my nerves, a warning sign.

Shaking it off, I start to lug the door open, it creaking and sticking with every pull. Suddenly, it gives way and hands grasp me and throw me inside the interior. My head hits the wall with a resounding Crack! and everything starts to fade except for the the rushed whispers.

Get the boy in here!

Check the girl, her file says she's a hemophiliac! She might have internal bleeding!

Is the boy out yet?

Katrina, drive!

Sir, he won't stop thrashing!

Forget headquarters, get us to home base now.

Cameron, where are the infusions and needles?

A cold, thin needle slides up my arm like it has so many times before. Only this time, in addition to the rush of thin infusion entering my bloodstream, I feel a slightly thicker liquid invade, and even the whisper-shouts start to fade.

I only catch one wisp of a sentence before I drift off into nothingness.

...we're not the only ones after her...