A/N: One shot here! Wrote this…like…way long ago. Hope you like it!

The man bit his bottom lip nervously. He glanced around, looking for some kind of escape. He tapped the class ring on his middle finger louder and louder against the armrest until an elder lady sitting in front of him jerked her head back to glare at him.

He had small beard, brown hair that was clumsily highlighted blonde. He was skinny and young – possibly in his late twenties. He wore a faded green striped shirt with flared jeans.

He glared back at the elder, his bluish-gray eyes biting into her soul and causing her to quickly snap her head back, her white, wispy hair flowing back down on her shoulders.

What was he doing! Glaring at that lady like that? She had to be at least seventy, and he knew that by then you begin to lose hope…you feel your bones begin to crumble and nothing matters anymore. The last thing a lady of her age wants is a man scowling at her!

Charlie, although he tried to stop himself, continued to tap the ring against the wooden chair, collecting sighs and grumbles.

Beneath his sock, his toes wrapped around a small packet containing a brown powder. He needed that powder.

His hand flew up from the armrest and he stood up, darting away from his seat and down the isle. A flight attendant gasped as he shoved past her.

“Sir! Sir!” She called out to him, but when he did not turn back she followed him quickly, trying to keep up with his expeditious pace.

Charlie glanced behind him momentarily, and quickened his walk, pushing past people, muttering a heartless “excuse me.”

By this time, at least four of the flight attendants were following, calling out to him.

Charlie reached the bathroom and ran in, slamming the door shut and locking it hastily as a flight attendant hammered on his door.

“Just a moment…” he said softly. He doubted they could hear him.

He ripped off his shoe, pulling out the plastic baggy and slipping the shoe back on his foot.

Almost regretfully, he tore open the bag and sprinkled a few of the brown particles into the palm of his quivering hand.

He took a pinch of it and brought his thumb and index finger up to his lips.

Dizzily, he turned towards the mirror. His reflection seemed almost distorted. He knew not if it was an affect from the drug or not. He was fading.

What was he becoming?

His thoughts were pierced by screams…his own screams, as he flew up and back down. He threw open the door, sailing towards him was a tray-cart the flight attendants use to deliver passengers food.

Charlie, ducking down, rolled out of the way and shielded his face. A voice came over the PA, but he could not make out the words.

All around him, air masks were flying down by the seats of petrified passengers. He stumbled into an empty one and pressed the mask over his nose and mouth. He blacked out.

A/N: Like? Please don’t ask this to be continued…I get enough of that already. And I’m trying my best. ONE SHOT! Lol, ok.

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