SKINTIGHT (Watty Awards 2024)

Chapter 15

Violet

I stand at the edge of the driveway, looking up at the house I grew up in. It doesn't look like a home. The building stands tall and proud. A fresh coat of white paint lines the walls. It's so bright, the sun's reflection is almost blinding. Large pillars surround the front door, and the marble steps glimmer in the daylight. The lawn has been manicured to perfection. Not a single leaf is out of place. The windows are perfectly clear, and their sills cobweb free. So many people would dream of a house like this, but it's my worst nightmare. This house is haunted.

My uncle stands by the front door, greeting his children with a hug and a kiss.

"Are you coming up, or are you going to make me wait all day?" he looks over at me.

"That depends," I head towards him. "How long do you have?"

"For you? I'd wait a million years, you know that," he pulls me into his embrace, almost suffocating me as he lifts me up off the ground

"Careful," I laugh. "We're not all made of muscle."

"Ah, bullshit! Can't I hug my favourite child?"

"You hear that, Izzy?" I tease my cousin. "I told you I was the favourite."

"Yeah, yeah," he waves me off.

"It's good to see you again, kiddo," Kal finally lets me go, setting me back down on my own two feet. I hate to admit it, but it's nice to see him, too. Besides his children, he's the only person in the house I feel close to. He at least had the decency to look after me when my own parents couldn't. He stepped up for me. I just wish he wasn't fucking my mum now. Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if they were together from the start — that he was my actual father, and I didn't have to go through the pain of losing mine.

We walk further into the house, past the grand staircase and beyond the formal dining room. It all looks the same. Most rooms in this house aren't used. They're just for show. Only my mum lives here, and between her bedroom and this main living space, the rest of the house may as well disappear.

I can hear my family already, pausing whatever discussion they were having to greet Dani and Isaiah. I peek into the room. The whole family is here already — Maritza, Diego and Amelia, Ivy and Isaac, Valeria and Roman, and each one of their kids. Way too many people.

Ivy's eyes meet mine. She's cut her hair. Her blonde curls now end above her shoulders. Realisation dawns on her. She never called me back. She must've forgotten about it until now. I haven't. I'm going to speak to her today. I don't care if it's not the right time. I need to know what happened to her.

"Violet, honey, come here," my mum approaches me with open arms. "I'm so glad you made it. I didn't think you were going to come."

"Of course I was. I told you I was, didn't I?" I give her a light hug.

"Oh, yes, of course, but with everything going on, I couldn't be sure," she pulls away. I quickly scan her face, instantly noticing the tears welling up in her eyes. I fight the urge to ask her to elaborate — to tell me what exactly she means by 'everything else going on'. An argument with me would send her over the edge. "Did you bring the painting?"

Ugh. The fucking painting.

"Mum..." I sigh. "I told you I wasn't going to do that."

"I know, I just— I was hoping you'd reconsider."

"Well, I didn't," I don't know how else to tell her. I haven't painted in weeks. I haven't even been in my art studio, and I wasn't about to start now.