Imprinted ♱ l.h

Chapter 16 ~ In the end

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I stay awake the entire night smiling. I couldn't sleep as I was to happy. I was in love and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Every corner I turned I saw Luke standing there whispering in his alluring voice 'I love you'. Love was a feeling I thought I would never truly experience but no matter how fucked up a person is, love is inevitable. As there is always one person out there that loves you more than you realise. That person that watched you from a distance, afraid.

Saturday's where always my favourite days of the week. My mum goes to some random druggie house and I am alone. I can relax and enjoy life (if you can call that a life) to a certain extent. Now I had people I cared about I didn't enjoy my alone day as much as normal. My cereal had a cheap taste compared to Ashton's Kellogg's. We can only afford Asda's own. My bed sheets didn't comfort me but made me wretch at the stench. The cigarettes my mum has every day about 50 times gets absorbed into the fabric, as hard as I try to wash it, the smell always lingers. I, however, leave the house and am able to avoid smelling like a decaying corpse. I keep myself very clean and pungent free, except for the faint smell of prunes. I don't know where it comes from but that's how Ashton describes my smell, I don't even know what a prune is. We don't get the luxury of fancy fruit, we only purchase apples and bananas, if I'm lucky a melon, I haven't ventured much further. My sketch book had been sitting limply in the corner of my room for a few years now. I felt a lot of pain looking back over my drawings but today I felt creative. I reached for a pencil and slowly inched the pad open. The pages were crinkled from paint and the acrylics stained the corners. The first picture was a face surrounded by an explosion of colour, I was angry when I made that, angry that I had nobody to love. The second was a girl drowning in a bathtub, surrounded by decaying roses, at that point in my life I had mild depression and felt as if I was slowly decaying, wasting away. The third drawing created a tear that stained the paints. It was my wrists and my blades. This represented my self harm and how I had recovered. I stuck on the blades as a symbol. I haven't cut ever since. The fourth picture was confusing. There was a cigarette being puffed out by a skeleton and the heart was black as night. But I hadn't made this to show my mothers addiction, it was showing how destroyed she was emotionally and physically. Next the skeleton was a smaller Skelton, with some skin remaining. Me. I had a chance to save myself from destruction, I guess I used to have lots of emotions bottled up. Art is my expression in life, when I'm feeling something I can't tell people so I draw. Today I was happy. I drew a flower blooming amongst thorns and a pair holding hands. Me and Luke, 'the rose amongst the thorns' (Luke being the rose). I had always been very skilled with my drawing. It's been my passion from a young age. I plan to be the next Van Gough. So I sit and draw for many hours till I'm brought back by the sound of my doorbell. I wander down stairs and open the door. I was shocked to see Luke standing before me. 'How did you know where I live?' 'I followed you home the other day, it was so I could surprise you!' He gave you a cheesy grin. 'Come on in then,' you weaved him into the building. 'Please excuse the smell,'

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