Through An Artist's Eyes - Book 1 - Raphael x OC x Leonardo

THE BEGINNING || CHAPTER 1

Where do I begin? Where do I start with my story? Well, here it goes.

My name is Alison Natori Kawakami. I am an eighteen-year-old girl from the countryside outside New York City. Where the air is so clean, you can see the stars at night. I could take a deep breath without coughing and run through fields without worrying. I am a farm girl. But I didn't quite fit into the social circle of life here.

I am also a gothic girl. So, I stood out completely, as if I were an eyesore to the community. Jet-black hair cropped short at the back and stood in all directions in a punk style with black-red long locks at the front, hazel eyes and freckles covering my face and body. I also wore my black-rimmed glasses. My skin is alabaster toned; I am not able to tan; otherwise, I would look like a tomato. I burn within ten minutes in sunlight. And I am relatively short — the shortest out of my family members at 5"1. My Mom used to describe me as being short and feisty — her little firecracker — an old soul trapped in a young body.

My Mom, who was my absolute world and my best friend, is not with us anymore. After she passed, it was a difficult and rough year for us. Including myself, my Dad, and my sister, Carly. I looked at the packed boxes that surrounded us. Box tape, newspapers and everything else are covered in a thin layer of dust. The smell was intoxicating and numbing. I still feel the tears brim at the ridges of my eyes. I didn't want to move. It was the last thing in this world I wanted to do. I'm not too fond of change, but my Mom would have said it was all part of growing up. We knew we had to leave the only home I had ever known. Sitting here, contemplating where I am going in this so-called life, I heard my Dad trying to get my attention.

Unfortunately, I am also leaving my other best friend, Jacob Roberts, behind. Jacob, or Jakey as I nicknamed him, has ginger-colored hair and one blue and one green eye. It looked pretty cool. It's called heterochromia. A gene mutation. Freckles covered his face and body. He is slim and athletically built. A lot taller than me. He is about three heads taller than me. He was outcasted by being gay and I was outcasted by being a goth. The two outcasts then became best friends. He supported me through my Mom's passing. My Mom saw him as her son.

"Alison, it is time to go," my Dad told me. He stood behind me. Sorrow also filled his voice. As I took a last look at my old bedroom, it was empty. Filled to the brim with memories. I wish I could hear my Mom's comforting voice for the last time. The silence is near deafening. I wish things could have been different. I wondered how New York City would be. I am not used to a busy city. But where do I exactly fit in? I am an odd puzzle piece trying to fit into this family of mine.

I gave a nod to my Dad. We weren't exactly close. Our personalities were too much the same, and that caused regular clashes and fights. I was the weird person, the black sheep within my family. Carly and my Dad were as thick as thieves. She was a Daddy's little girl. Not me. I was a Mommy's girl. But with my Mom gone, it felt as if a puzzle piece of me was missing.

I walked towards my Dad's car, I gave one last look at the only house I had ever known. Leaving with only happy memories. With my skull-printed backpack strapped to my back with some sentimental items. Books. My other weakness. Some of the last ones that my Mom gave me. Holding it tightly as if I were losing myself. I'm trying to hold myself together. I looked at the farmhouse, wishing things didn't have to change. But I know we have no choice.

The new family moving in is waiting patiently and excitedly outside with their moving boxes at hand. You could see that they are looking forward to making their memories within these walls.

I climbed into the car. With my voice breaking, I tell my Dad through a broken sob. "Let's go, Dad."

We started driving off. In my mind I started saying goodbye to the trees, the flowers, nature, and the horses in our neighbor's yard. I took a last breath of the clean, unpolluted air of the countryside. I am going to miss breathing deeply in and out. We drove on the dirt road. My tears started to well up in my eyes. By the time we got to the tar road, my eyes had welled up completely, and I couldn't keep them in anymore. Warm tears stained down my cheeks.

I placed my earphones on, and I started to listen to my favorite music genre. Metal and hard rock. Also, another ear sore to my Dad. He hated that I loved this music genre. He calls it "noise." But for me, my emotions were expressed a lot more. Anger, grief, happiness and even...love. But I haven't felt that last emotion in a long time.

I looked out of the window of my Dad's car. I quietly said goodbye and hoped the next couple of hours would go by quickly. I closed my eyes. Letting the metal music lull me like a lullaby and drifting me away. I silently drifted into sleep, my tears drying up on my cheeks.

"Goodbye..."