❝𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞.❞
Bree Tanner, the newborn who was supposed to die. What will happen when she, instead of submitting to her faith, esc...
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PAINTBRUSH _____________ ꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦❦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷
Bree was ushered into a huge room. The tall windows on its walls let the luminous sun rays in.
The floor planks were topped by paint-ridden dust sheets. Their heavy stench saturated the air, causing the area to smell like dye. The furniture was minimal. A couple of dark shelves were placed in the room's corners. They were stuffed with painting supplies, looking ready to break apart from the weight of the items. Small notches covered them as black paint tried desperately to hang on to the old wood.
The newborn's steps stopped. She looked hesitantly around, feeling out of place in the huge room. It was staggering how big the Cullen house was. Every time she thought she had seen the whole house, she found out there was yet another room. It was unnerving. She hoped this would be the last new room she laid her eyes on.
Esme walked up to the shelves. Her hands caressed the painting supplies happily as she turned to stare at the younger vampire. "Have you painted before?"
The young teen nodded cautiously. How could she forget the horrible stick people she had painted in school's art class? They were ugly enough to create nightmares for those who saw them. She was definitely not meant to be an artist. As a matter of fact, it was not the wisest choice to put her in front of a canvas. She would just ruin it. Make it look like it was full of rotten lines. Most of the time, the lines weren't even straight. It was an accomplishment in itself that her lines genuinely looked rotten, but atrocious bending 'lines' added cherry on top of the already disgusting art pieces.
"That's lovely! I thought that we could paint together," the caramel-haired woman suggested softly. Her amber eyes warmed from excitement and friendliness.
"I don't know..." The girl studied the old shelves reluctantly. "It might not be the smartest idea. I'm not that great at it."
Esme tilted her head sympathetically. "There is no right way to paint; therefore, no one can possibly be bad at it." The matriarch gave her an encouraging smile. "And besides, I have seen a lot of different styles of painting. Nothing can surprise me."
Her words did not give Bree more confidence. She wanted to scream at the yellow-eye. Explain how horrible her former paintings were. She was a lost cause. There was no point in trying to teach her the world of painting. She did not belong there. Her brushes were always too stiff and bulky. Lines like noodles accompanied them, always ruining her art pieces. There was no saving her.
She eyed her surroundings, wanting to leave the strongly scented room. To her dismay, the caramel-haired woman started taking painting supplies off the shelves. She had to leave while she still could. Or should she? Would it be dangerous to disobey the yellow-eye's request? She didn't know what would happen if she decided to leave. Esme could get mad at her and hurt her.
