PART ONE: THE FIRST STEPS

 I hugged my knees closer to my chest, and buried my head between them.

He was going to find me sooner or later. No matter how long it took-the punishment would still be the same.

"Where is that girl? Jemimah!" His voice echoed throughout the house and was getting louder each time he called my name.

Shivers crept up my spine, and it wasn't because of the store room's cold tiles beneath my bare feet, or the stone wall against my back.

I waited in the darkness, as I listened to the dreaded footsteps coming closer toward the storage door "JEMIMAH, He barked out again. I gripped my hair in fear, and curled up into a tighter ball.

Please don't come here.

Please don't come here.

Please don't come here.

His feet slapped against the tiles of the corridor, getting louder and louder, until they stopped just outside the storage.

The handle creaked as the knob turned, and the door slowly slid open...

"Jem? You alright"?

I was immediately snapped out of my thoughts, the chilling and tense atmosphere of my memory being replaced by the bustling activity on the aeroplane, and the comforting tone of Dad's voice.

I blinked, nodding in reply, and looked up at him, my chocolate brown eyes meeting his matching ones. He smiled down at me. "We've landed," he said, "Unbuckle and get your bag".

I peered out the small, circular window beside me, looking out at the foggy landscape of fields that stretched out beyond the aircraft. The sky was a hazy, olive grey colour as the sun was just beginning to rise.

I unbuckled my belt, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. We were finally getting off of this awfully crowded vehicle, and I was about to step into a new world where I could actually start over.

Start over. The thought was sweet as sugar, as I thought about the life I had left behind, and how I would never again have to face it.

I tried not to think about the events of my last few days in Ghana. The hatred in Uncle Philip's eyes the last time I looked at him. The venom in his voice as he said his last words to me before I took my father's hand and walked away from him.

I pulled my bag out from underneath my chair, and shifted sideways so I could escape the row of seats, following Dad's lead. People were collecting their luggage from the storage spaces above us, and some were squeezing past others towards the exit.

I felt hot and bothered, with all the unfamiliar bodies that shoved passed me, occasionally muttering a few words of "Sorry, love" and "Excuse me! Thank you".

Dad reached for my pink duffle bag and passed it down to me. I flung the rucksack I was holding onto my shoulder, so I could carry the bag properly.

We squeezed through the other passengers who were busying themselves with their own luggage, and followed the row of people heading to the exit of the plane.

The hostess with bright red lipstick and a pristine beige uniform grinned down at me. I recognised her as the one who had given me extra drink and dessert during the flight, and so I smiled back at her, shyly. "Thank you for flying with us". She said softly.

I gave her one last glance before descending down the steps of the plane, out into the open.

The cold air hit me hard, and I instantly regretted keeping my jacket in the bag, instead of taking it out before we left the vehicle. It had been so long since I'd been here, that I underestimated the harsh weather of England.

In the airport, a tall, brunette woman with bright blue eyes and deep red lipstick was waiting for us, and Dad waved at her to catch her attention. As we approached her, I realised her thick, long wrap-around coat and black heels made her appear much taller than she probably was, and I watched as she flung her arms around Dad, as I admired the fancy clothing that she wore.

I made sure to keep a distance from her, half hidden behind my father.

The woman released Dad and turned to me, a large smile spreading across her face. "And you must be the lovely Jemimah. I've heard so much about you!" Her voice was high pitched and she spoke very fast, and even faster when she looked at Dad and started talking to him too.

"Jem, this is Susanne," Dad explained, and I returned her smile, remembering how much Dad had told me about her.

Susanne was a make-up artist and worked for various companies , and was often busy with appointments, especially during the week. So I was very grateful to her for being able to make it to the airport to greet us. "It's nice to meet you, auntie," I said quietly.

"Oh, darling, just call me Susanne, alright? Our Uber's waiting outside so let's talk there, shall we? I've been so excited to meet you! And there is just so much to talk about".

Susanne wasn't lying when she said this. She talked for a long time during the ride to the house.

She told me about Katlynn, who I could call Katie, and who was thirteen, like me. Susanne said that due to us being the same age, we'd probably get along just fine as we were likely to have the same interests. Of course, I highly doubted this, knowing already that I had little experience with other kids my age.

I didn't say much, and instead just listened to Susanne babble on about my new home, and the school I would eventually be going to when the time was right.

After a while, I found myself drifting away from Susanne's chatter, and looking out of the car window in awe at the London motorway, just as we turned through into a high road which then led to a bustling city. As the sky began to turn a bright orange-red colour, and the other cars sped past us, I found myself intrigued by the world that moved past in a slight blur as we sat in the Uber; the paved roads and sidewalks, the people walking briskly and hurriedly to their destinations, the skyscraper buildings with perfect designs and large windows...everything was so, so different from what I'd always known.

I rested my head against the glass, and thought about the busy roads back in Accra. with people shouting out to the women carrying large bowls of goods on their heads for the sweating and frustrated passengers in the tro-tro buses and the other vehicles packed in the typical traffic jam, as they yelled out their products for sale.

"Pure water!"

"Groundnuts!"

"Ice cream!"

I remembered the chickens scouting around for any leftovers laying around on the roadsides, and the goats strolling in groups around the streets. I kind of missed the sounds of loud squawks at 4am in the morning, the birds serving as an alarm for the whole neighbourhood to get up and start work.

I chuckled at the strange thought of chickens and goats roaming around the streets of London, not having a care in the world.

That familiar and dreaded voice suddenly drifted into my head again, calling out to me, as I tried to think about the things I already missed about home. My chest tightened at the sound of it, and I took deep breaths and shut my eyes, trying to relax my mind from the stresses and worry that followed with every good thought I had of my country.

I found myself beginning to fall asleep, as I let the various thoughts of both the past and the future take over me.

"And suddenly you know: It's time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings"-Meister Eckhart

First chapter is obviously dedicated to my number one supporter 

Expect to get a lot of dedications girl, you know I love you!