The most anticipated day has arrived today, finally. I'm packing the last of my items away. The plane is leaving in an hour and a half and I have to hurry to be there on time.

I couldn't sleep last night and it shows on me. Coffee helped me, but I'm nervous, my hands are shaking and I feel butterflies in my stomach. I don't have the much needed confidence right now and I feel distressed.

What if I disappoint them? What if they don't like me? What if I make some wrong move and they send me back home? What if they won't treat me nicely?

They seemed kind through the letters we sent each other, but I've never met them and that's making me anxious.

When I carry my heavy bags down the stairs, I notice how quiet the house is. My step-mother already left and tears well up in my eyes. I didn't expect her to be sad because I'm leaving, I didn't expect her to hug me and say that she's going to miss me.

And what I also didn't expect was that she wasn't even going to be here when I'm leaving for a year.

I shouldn't expect much of her, anyway, but it still hurts and the pain spreads through my whole chest, expanding to an abnormal level.

God, why does it have to be like this?

I should be happy that I'm finally leaving. That's what I've wanted for a long time now. But now I just feel ... nothing. I partly feel that I'm leaving for all the wrong reasons, but on the other hand, I feel it's the only right thing to do.

I take one last glance around the house, remembering all the small details, which is not much. The walls are plain white, without any pictures hanging on it. The house is old and small, cold and not cosy at all. It doesn't feel like home, but living in it my whole life, I got used to it.

That doesn't mean I like it, though.

With one last heavy sigh, I grab the bags and carry them out where a taxi is already waiting for me. I lock the front door and leave the key under the mat. I won't need it anytime soon anyway.

The taxi driver helps me put the bags into the trunk. "Merci," I thank him with a polite smile. He nods.

I climb into the back of a taxi and we drive off. I'm looking out of the window the whole time. I watch my home city through the window for the last time, memorizing the busy streets and people rushing around them.

France is my home country and I've never left it. And I've lived in Valence for my whole life. I've loved it for the most part. The city itself is beautiful and great and the people, at least the ones who don't know me, are nice for the most part.

I think about how I should feel some sadness about leaving my home, but the closer I'm getting to the airport, the more I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders. And the more I think about life somewhere else, the better I can breathe.

For two years, I've felt like I've been living under the water where breathing was impossible and I felt trapped, constant pressure in my chest.

I want it gone.

A part of me is being sad because I won't have anyone to miss. Then, to think about it, that's actually a pretty good thing. I was done missing people a long time ago. It was pointless, a complete waste of time and energy because missing them won't bring them back.

It won't make them forgive me.

I was also done crying about them.

I've hit a very low point in my life. It's hard living on and pretending to live your life when with every breath you take, you wish everything would just go away and stop. It's hard when the people who once meant everything to you, turn against you, laugh behind your back and throw the insults in your face.

It's hard, living with a step-mother that loves alcohol and drugs more than her own adopted child.

Have you ever felt like no one in your life wanted you? Cared for you? Loved you?

Have you ever woken up in the morning and thought, What am I still doing in this world? Would anyone even miss me if I'll be gone?

Have you ever cried late night in bed, hoping, praying, screaming for everything to just go away and be okay again, but knowing it isn't possible?

I'm sure a lot of people have days like this. Days that they just feel unwanted, unloved, worthless and never enough.

Try feeling that every day for your whole life. And it even got worse the past two years.

I was always known for being a coward so I never ended the things the way that often crossed my mind. So, when an opportunity showed up to take me away from the life I'm living, I grabbed it with both of my hands.

And I'm heading there right now. To the new, fresh starts. To a place full of new faces.

I hold on to that the whole drive. I've been hoping for a way out for so long it seems almost unbelievable now, but it's happening.

I smile a true, real smile when I see the big table with a Grenoble–Isère Airport written on it.

My heart beats fast and strong in my chest as I pay the taxi driver and put the bags out of the trunk, then carry them inside the airport. The mass of people inside calms me down. They're all going somewhere – just like me, or they're waiting for someone to come back. I feel a weird sense of calmness and let it consume me.

I'm finally having a chance to walk away from the life I've been living and the freedom tastes sweet on my tongue.

•••

The flight wasn't long. I was listening to the music and stared out of the window. I've got a seat next to the window and I appreciated it because the view was amazing. I couldn't stop staring at the clouds from above.

I couldn't see much of the world beneath us, though, only when we started landing in Heathrow. And looking at Great Britain from the air was something truly remarkable that I'll never forget. It's like seeing a whole new world for the first time.

We landed in Heathrow and I was a bit of lost at first. There was a knot of fear in my chest, because I was going to London by myself. Anything could happen to me and no one would know or care about it. I'm literally walking this world alone.

It's hard being in a new place by yourself, but when I saw a black, long Mercedes outside and a big man in a suit and shades on, leaning on it, holding a sign with Gabrielle Perth written on it, I sighed in relief.

I wanted to jog to him in joy, but my heavy bags prevented it from doing so, so I just went to him in a fast pace and a big smile on my face.

It's the middle of March and temperatures were getting higher, but this is Great Britain and there's rarely weather without some clouds or the wind blowing, causing the sun to lose its effect.

"Hi!" I greet who must be the driver Mrs Rosalyn Holt talked about in her letter. "I'm Gabrielle," I tell him cheerfully.

One corner of his lips lift up, but I don't see his eyes. He nods at me formally. "Good day, Ms Perth. How was your flight?" he asks politely and, damn, that English accent!

I've dreamed of coming to Great Britain at least once in my life to see the beauty it holds and to hear the accent I'm so obsessed with. And I'm not disappointed so far. "It was great." I shrug. I don't know what else to offer about my flight.

The driver nods again. "Let me help you with your bags," he offers and I happily let him, because my arms feel like I've been lifting weights for five hours straight.

The driver opens the back door for me. "My name's John and I'm a driver for the Holt family," he introduces himself. I nod at him to show him I heard him and then slip into the spotly clean car that faintly smells of lavender.

I knew that the Holt family was wealthy, but having their own driver? Christ ... And they're also living in what I heard was one of the richest streets in London, on Hampstead. Coming from a small, not really wealthy family, it seems a bit too much to me. I know I'll need a lot of time get used to all of it.

I stare out of the window the whole drive to the mansion, staring at the London streets with big, excited eyes. I'm in this big city, all by myself, and it feels ... liberating. It feels amazing. I'm away from all the drama, away from everyone and everything that wanted to keep me under water long enough to drown. Not literally, of course.

I fall in love with this city immediately. It's just something about it ... something that's hard not to love.

The drive doesn't take that long – about an hour or so. And when we park, I have to ask the driver if it's really the right address.

He only laughs. "You'll get used to it, Miss," he replies back formally.

A lump forms in my throat as I look at the magnificent sight that is the Holt's mansion/villa or whatever I should call it. It looks as big as a castle, damn it! I wonder how many times I will get lost in it. I almost snort with the silly thought.

John opens the door for me and I thank him, still staring open-mouthed at the house. And then I look around the street. I don't know why I'm even surprised that this great building is surrounded by even more beautiful and big mansions.

John gets my suitcases and insists on taking them inside, even though I assure him that I can manage it perfectly fine. I give up as he strides in front of me and I follow him, an anticipation building inside of me. I'm really curious how this family is going to turn out, how they look like and how they will treat me. Mrs Rosalyn Holt sounded very kind when we wrote to each other about me coming here.

I hope I'm not wrong about her.

She told me that she and her husband have two children, but I'm only looking after one, a little girl named Amelia, who's 3 years old, since the boy is already grown up, she assured me. She didn't tell me his name, though.

John knocks two times on the door and I wait beside him, taking that time to stare at the surroundings. This is where I'll be for the next year. And I must say I really like it, although it's a bit too spectacular to what I'm used. But I have no doubt I'll get used to it soon.

The big door opens and there's a small woman standing there with strains of silver in her hair and a face that's hinting she must be in her fifties. "John! You're already back," she says, greeting him and then she turns her smiling face on me. "Dear, you must be Gabrielle! We're all expecting you already. Come on in," she tells me, holding the door open for me.

"Hello," I greet her back with a small smile of my own. I'm biting my bottom lip as I go in the big house and gasp at how beautiful it is inside. Everything is so big and so clean. Everything is in the theme of black and white and the house itself is a bit intimidating.

"Can I take your jacket, Miss?" The woman turns me out of my staring and gaping at the belongings around me.

"No, it's okay," I assure her, not willing to give up the comfort my jacket brings me.

"Well, come on after me, then. Mrs and Mr Holt will soon come down to greet you."

I sit on the comfortable couch in what must be a living room. It's enormous, nothing like I've ever seen before. There's a small table in front of me and there's a large TV on the wall. I wonder how it must feel to watch a movie on it.

The couch is soft and there are cushions over all three couches that are around the table. There's a fireplace on the right of the TV. Then there are two lamps on either side of couches and on the right, there are three big windows from floor to ceiling that look out on the trees which are in the front of the house.

I really like how even the curtains are black.

Soon I hear voices nearing me and I make out a small giggle that must came from Amelia. I quickly stand up and intertwine my hands in front of me, suddenly feeling very nervous.

The girl runs in the room first and after comes a woman that's definitely Mrs Holt. After them, I think it's Mr Holt following.

The woman rushes to me in a few long steps, putting her hands lightly on my shoulders. "Gabrielle! Hello, dear, it's nice to finally meet you." She grins warmly.

I imagined her to be beautiful, serious and polished. She is all that, of course, gorgeous even, but she also looks very nice and kind. Her blonde hair is tied up behind in a glamorous bun and she's wearing a dark suit.

"Hello, Mrs Holt. I'm really happy to meet you, too," I say politely through the lump of nerves I have in my stomach.

"Alfred, come," Mrs Holt says and the man that came into the room after Mrs Holt and Amelia comes forward.

He offers me a hand and I accept him. "It's nice to meet you, Gabrielle. I'm Alfred and this is my wife, Rosalyn. And there's the infamous Amelia." He points to the girl that's currently laying on the couch and giggling for no apparent reason at all. I can't help but laugh a little.

Rosalyn looks around the room and she frowns. "Where's Alex?" she asks her husband.

Mr Holt is quite a good looking man with dark hair that with a few strands of silver in it already, wearing black trousers and a white dress shirt.

Looking at my jeans, my jacket and my sneakers, I can't help but feel like I'm underdressed.

Rosalyn goes out of the room and I hear her calling out that Alex's name.

Mr Holt offers me to sit down as he sits, too. "Is this your first time being here?" he asks me politely, making a small talk.

I nod my head. "Yes, sir. It's actually my first time being abroad."

His eyebrows lift a bit, but he chooses not to comment on it. "Well, I hope this stay here will come up to your expectations."

I chuckle. "I'm sure it will," I tell him. "You have a really nice house," I comment. God, I truly suck at making a small talk with adults. I always feel so awkward. And talking to successful and well-put-together people like this is clearly out of my comfort zone.

Mr Holt beams proudly. "Thank you."

I nod at him.

"Amelia, will you come here and greet your new nanny?" Mr Holt calls his daughter and she instantly sits up as she hears her name.

She comes crawling towards us on the couch and sits in Mr Holt's lap. She's truly adorable with light curls bouncing on her head and her big brown eyes with full cheeks. When she smiles, there are two small dimples in her cheeks. "Hi, Miss Gabrielle!" she greets and tilts her head on the side. ''You are beautiful.'' She nods then as if she's agreeing with what she just said. She can't say the letter r yet, so it comes out as w.

My mouth falls open as I'm taken aback by that. I don't get to hear that a lot and even though this is coming for a child, it means a lot and it warms my chest completely. I lean forward and smile hugely at her. "Hello, Miss Amelia. You're beautiful, too," I tell her.

She responds by grinning at me, showing me her small teeth.

"Gabrielle," Mrs Holt calls my name and I quicky turn around on the couch to look at her. She's coming towards us with a boy walking in front of her. She has her arms on his shoulders as if she has to push him forward.

I can only stare at them – well, mostly at him. He's ... well, he's actually really nice looking. Great looking. And as he comes closer, I find it hard not to gape.

He has dark, dark brown hair, cut short, yet long enough to be ruffled and standing up. He has a nice face with full pink lips, slightly crooked nose and really deep brown eyes.

"Gabrielle, this is my son, Alexander. Alexander, this is our new nanny."

When I try to say hello to him, his eyebrows lift up and he snorts. "Nanny? Is she even fifteen?" he snarls.

"Alex!" Mrs Rosalyn snaps horrifically, casting her apologetic eyes on me. "Be nice for once, will you?" she scolds in desperation.

Alexander's eyes travel up and down my body and his lips curl up in disgust. He looks at his mum. "Mum, I seriously don't give two shits who she is. Did I really have to come down just because of this?"

I'm taken aback by his rude behaviour.

Mrs Rosalyn's face pales. "Alex!" she hisses. She shakes her head at him, a disappointment clear written on her face. She turns to me. "I'm sorry. He's not always this rude."

Alexander raises his eyebrows at his mum. "Yes, I am." His eyes cast to me then and a lump forms in my throat. So attractive. But without any manners. Damn. "Look, I really don't give a single shit who you are, but stay out of my business and I'll leave you alone. Clear?" His eyes narrow on me slightly, waiting for my confirmation.

I tuck my hair behind my ear – a nervous habit I have. "Uhm. Yes, of course. I'll be out of your sight as much as possible." My voice slightly shakes as I respond to him and it comes out quiet. His words did hurt a bit. He's dismissive already and he doesn't even know me. How am I going to spend one year under this roof with him if he's going to always be rude like that?

His eyes rake up and down my body and he snarls, his lips curling in disgust. "Just what I fucking needed," he mutters to himself before he thrusts his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, turns on his heels and walks out of the room without any other words.

Okay, then. I'm definitely going to avoid him as much as it'll be possible. Especially after he warned me himself. I don't have any wish to hang out with people like him – rude and too full of themselves.

Mrs Rosalyn looks horrified as her son saunters out of the room without any other words or another glance. She puts her fingers on her necklace and starts playing with it. "I am so sorry about this. You'll get ... used to him, I promise."

I doubt. But I nod anyway.

"Play with me?" Amelia is standing by my feet, smiling hugely and holding up a Barbie with a ruined face up at me, oblivious to what just happened.

I force a kind smile. "Sure, let's play."