Diana Hargrove has gone through enough tragedy for three lifetimes, yet she still has an affirming smile on her face. She's lived and travelled all over the world, but the last straw that broke the camel's back, brought her back to her hometown, Cre...
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𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺-𝘵𝘸𝘰 | 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
I stayed sitting at my easel all day long. Mom tried bringing me food around lunch, but I didn't even bother opening my bedroom door.
I've been covered in dry paint all day and it's already after four o'clock in the afternoon. Standing in the shower trying to scrub the paint off my body was growing useless. I decided on wearing long pants and a sweatshirt tonight, so scrubbing wasn't important.
When I finally got out of the shower I put on a pair of black leggings and a bright red sweatshirt. Doing my hair or makeup felt tedious, so I braided my hair over my right shoulder and tossed a white beanie over my head. It's freezing outside, so being out with wet hair isn't the wisest option. I'm in no mood to hold a blow dryer right now.
It's not even five o'clock yet, but voices from downstairs had me curious to see who could be here. I don't know who could've been here yet.
"Stop that!" my mom snapped.
Who is my mom yelling at?
It could be anyone. She yells at a majority of the population.
She told me that she'd be locked in her office all day designing. Normally, when she gets an idea for a new collection she ignores the world for days. She needs to release all her ideas before she forgets them.
"I'm sorry. Stop what?" a voice asked.
Now I'm invested.
My mom doesn't snap at people. She barely raises her voice in an angry way. We're Italian, loud voices are a part of who we are. Mom doesn't intentionally yell at people unless it's well deserved.
Also, she rarely has company. She doesn't want to be pitied for being the dead soldier's wife.
"Stop tearing yourself down in your head," she whispered. I snuck down the stairs to try and listen to the conversation. I couldn't hear what else she said, but I heard the final part. "Yes, you are. I know that look on your face. Sweetheart, I invented that look."
"I can't help it. I don't mean any offense, but it's your daughter's fault," a male voice said.
"Most things usually are," mom laughed.
That laugh.
I know that second laugh.
I've heard that laugh in my mind for the last seven years. It's only deeper now in octaves.
Jayden?
It's Jayden.
Why is he here early? And why is my mom berating him?
"She makes me second guess everything I do. I've never second guessed myself before. I guess when I see a certain look in her eye, my mind races a mile a minute, and I break down every possible scenario in my head to make sure that it's the perfect thing for her," he said.
