Reversed (On Hold For Now)

Chapter 5- Krissy's POV

I just wanted to thank you all again for over 500 views, it really means a lot to me. Luv ya, mwa! 😘 Ps. Not proof read, sorry for any mistakes and please tell me if you find any.

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The nerve of that guy! Ugh, he's just unbelievable, this is going to be a nightmare.

I though he would just be one of those shy, quite, geek nerds, but nooo the one nerd that I got stuck with is a smart ass son of a b'tch. God hates me!

And what the hell is with that contract? Like who the hell makes a contract for a stupid deal? Dude's cray-cray.

"I'm home!" I yelled, stomping into the house and slamming the door, my actions completely mirroring how I feel. Frustrated.

Silence.

Of course, that's what you get when your mom's a full time lawyer and your dad travels all around because he's a model, and grandma? Well, she's on a hike through the woods for three days and won't be back until tomorrow.

My stomach rumbled, letting me know that it was hungry. I threw my purse on the counter, opened up the fridge and looked through it. It was practically fully stocked, with cheese, lettuce, cucumbers, and lemonade.

I ate it all.

What can I say, I had a stressful day. I deserve to treat myself a little.

As I was leaving to go to my room I stopped by the chalk board that we have hanging on the wall and wrote a quick note to our house keeper, 'Need more food. Step on it,' in my neat, cursive handwriting.

I was lost in my thoughts about the upcoming Victoria Secret fashion show as I went up the marble stone staircase, that I was completely unaware and unprepared for what was about to happen.

My grandmother, lovely sprout that she is at the age of f'cking oldness, jumped up from on top of the stairs and yelled, you guessed it, 'Boo!' So original, note the sarcasm.

I screamed, and grabbed the railing in a death grip, making my knuckles turn white. "What the hell gran?! You nearly killed me," I screamed.

"Oh yeah?" She smirked "How in the world did I do that?"

"Besides giving me a heart attack, I could have slipped, fell down the stairs and cracked my head open. How do you feel nearly killing your only grandchild? A pretty one at that? No one left to pass on your genes."

"I feel like I nearly did the world a favor," she responded matter of factly.

"Humph, so glad you're home early, for what ever reason it is. Now go back," I walked up the rest stairs with dignity, stopping to stick out my tongue at my grandmother.

She just laughed.

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"There," I said triumphantly. I had just been working for the past hour on my new painting of a butterfly.

I stare at it for a few minutes.

It's mainly all different shades of blue, with a little bit of a light pink-purple color and a drop of teal. It's pretty abstract, no outline, no perfection, just the thick strokes of my hand against the canvas.

It's like life.

In life, there's no obvious outline of what your supposed to be doing, there's no perfection anywhere, even if our eyes deceive us and tell us that there is.

The thing that makes up life is everyone's thick, imperfect strokes of their choices. But in the end, it becomes something, you just have to wait; be patient, and then stand back and look at the results.