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Star Girl ✷ Chapter Four.
All her life, Kitty Lovelace was named as some sort of goddess. She had a glow from within, something that others couldn't amount to. You could be sweet and nice however Kitty was splenetic, she talks with honey dripping from her tongue and her harsh words act like rotten candy, nestling into pearly molars as cavities.
She's there as a reminder. Whenever you talked to another girl, Kitty came to mind. She didn't work her charm in a conniving way, in fact, residents of Stars Hollow were sure she didn't even realise the effect she had on people. Perhaps they were right, maybe Kitty was just some walking God who had decided to spend her days in Connecticut.
Anger withered away at her brain. The anger of a tidal river. The anger that shook her to her core and made tears of frustration brink in her honeyed eyes. It made her bottom lip quiver, her knuckles turn white in fisted hands. It was crying in the shower. It was punching a wall, smashing a plate. Making her act out, yell, and fight.
And when Kitty sprawled on her bed, hot cheeks pressed against her pastel pink pillow and eyes full of nothing, she was hurting. Her heart was breaking. The love she once felt wrapped around her like a tight-knit cocoon was faded, transparent. She was hurt that her father was deadbeat and her mother no longer felt like a mother anymore. She was afraid she didn't feel like a daughter anymore, more so a burden, locking her mother up in Stars Hollow.
She held a generational rage, one that was passed on by her father when she was granted with the Lovelace last name. Kitty had it, she drowned in it. She tried nursing this anger, she didn't want to be the angry version she watched her father become. She found ways to mould it like wet clay, softening its sharp edges and letting it drip away in the sun, untouched and forgotten.
Occasionally she'd slip underwater, where her father lurked and battled for air but she would arise and her father would stay below. It was when she sat on the bridge of the lake, water between her toes, staring out to the picturesque sun and painting the sky in warm hues of pigment. When she would raise the Vodka bottle to her lips and take a swig. It was then that she wished she was at a beach, disappearing, sinking into the sand, the ocean washing her away and maybe even being washed up on a beach in another part of the world, yet never truly home.
Because Kitty was never home. In fact, she had forgotten what it felt like, really.
The golden sun lifted from the horizon, painting the sky in warm colors. Light peaked through Kitty's, bedroom window, past the dark red chiffon curtains and white maple window frame. Sunlight bled through the translucent dirty glass, half-slid open, and onto the messy bed, Kitty slept on.
