Viola is a romantic at heart and believes she knows everything about love. From the movies she watches to the books she reads-she's after a gentleman who will handle her with care. But as everyone around her finds their soulmate and starts their per...
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Art is my freedom.
It might not feel like much, but to me, this feels like everything. I don't have a lot of skill in painting or drawing, I do it because I enjoy it and I find it incredibly therapeutic. Right now I am in my element.
No one else is in the art room. I don't care if Haze sees me enjoying myself. I'm not loving living here, but I will take the small wins.
I gently glide the brush across the canvas as I stare back at two brown eyes. I didn't intend to start painting myself, it just happened. I've never attempted a self portrait, but now I'm fascinated at the challenge.
I like to experiment with different techniques and colours and textures. I guess this can be my little project whilst I wait until I can go home. If Haze ever lets me go home.
My hand lowers the paintbrush as I think about that possibility. Never going home. Never seeing my brother or my father or Imogen and Milo again? No. It's not a possibility.
Haze might be my mate, but I will murder him with my bare hands if I have to.
The worst part, he's never even laid a finger on me. He might have done some questionable things, but he's never hurt me and I trust that he never will. He's only hurting me emotionally.
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. I've already decided to start painting my hair back in its natural sandy colour, not this dark shade that isn't me. I don't know what possessed me to dye my hair, but I regret it. Unfortunately.
My brush strokes are gentle as I perfect the colour by building up the different tones and lowlights. A knock at the door makes me jump and I whip my head around to be met with long blonde hair and an intrigued look.
Aurelia takes a step into the room, her eyes on my canvas. "Haze said you said you couldn't paint."
"I can't," I shrug.
She frowns pausing beside me and I resist the urge to cover my self portrait with my back. I don't want anyone to see it. I know I'm far from perfect, but it's about the freedom I've felt whilst doing it.
"I beg to differ," Aurelia's eyes glimmer and she folds her arms over her chest. "But why are you painting yourself with blonde hair?"
I laugh hesitantly and place down the brush. "Because this isn't my natural colour."
"Oh," she blinks. "I had no idea. The dark is cute, but the blonde? It's very you."
"Yeah," I bite the inside of my cheek. "I really regret it. I want to go back to my natural colour, but I fear I've fucked up my hair. I'll need to strip it and pray it doesn't go an awful colour."
Aurelia shrugs and tugs at the ends of her hair. "I'm sure we can sort something out. You have no idea how many times I've had to strip my hair for it to be this blonde."
