★ |𝐈𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰| ★ Isabella Solano, the 20-year-old half-sister of Rafael Solano and Luisa Alver, the daughter of Emilio Solano and Maria Vallier, was flown to Miami to see her brother. She is struck by trag...
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FOR AS LONG AS ISABELLA VALLIER COULD REMEMBER, she loved to run. Whether that was in track at her high school (which she was the captain of, not to brag) or away from her mom after their frequent arguments, which were becoming more and more frequent. Apparently, she got that skill from her dad. The number seemed to be increasing as she got older, as she wanted to be more independent. They just seemed to clash. The fourteen-year-old was a rebellious child; there was no doubt about it. The feeling of being trapped and confined was one that Isabella detested with everything she had. Previously, her mom had tried to get her to attend a private school in the hopes of straightening her child's behaviour out. It didn't help with the family's reputation; they were well respected and the child wasn't. So obviously, she was sent there without a second thought. Lasting only two weeks there, she was promptly sent home.
Twelve-year-old Isabelle Vallier stood in the gardens of her new, fancy, all girls private school. It had been 13 days since she had last been at home, since the girl had seen her mom. But, unlike the girls she was usually surrounded by, with their neat slicked back hair and perfect uniforms, she was the opposite. Her curly brown hair was slightly frizzy, much to her mom, Maria Vallier's, plea to let her straighten it, to at least look slightly presentable. Having it messy gave Isabella a sense of freedom she never got, an escape from the constant rules and lectures she was surrounded by. Wake up. Get ready. Attend lessons. Eat. Attend lessons. Sleep. Repeat. This wasn't her. This wasn't what she wanted. She didn't belong here. Isabella wanted to go to a normal school, to have some sort of control over her life and what she wanted to do. Not to be told how to sit or how to speak "properly." It made her feel trapped.
Hearing the loud bell on the intercom, she grimaced, realising that she had to attend her lesson, her private lesson. She sighed. Making an attempt to straighten her skirt and adjust her jumper. She walked along the cobbled path to the main building reluctantly, dragging her feet, taking notice of the piles of autumn leaves that collected in piles along the ground, under the large leafless trees that decorated the vast gardens. The girl frowned; it reminded her of the piles that would gather back at her home. The ones that she demanded that she and her mother jump in together and play in. But apparently, they couldn't do that anymore; she was growing up. There was no room for being a kid. She had no choice but to do what her mother wanted.
Glancing back towards the pile, she smirked, but who said she wasn't allowed to play in them? Suddenly, Isabella ran into the pile of leaves, kicking them everywhere, giving into her thoughts and making a mess of the neat collection that had been made by the gardener. They fell like rain around her, encircling her in her own bubble of joy, one that protected her. A laugh escaped the girl's lips, a genuine laugh that had not been heard in the weeks she had been at the school. Spinning around, Isabella took off her blazer and threw it to the ground. Grabbing a handful of leaves from the floor, she threw them in the air again, watching them cascade to the ground. They contrasted against the brighter blue that covered the sky above her. Isabella could feel the dirt from the orange leaves on her fingers, the smell invading her senses. She felt at home for the first time in ages. But she was too caught up in her fun to recognise the clicking of familiar heels across the cobbled ground.
