"We weren't supposed to happen, but we did. And now we're both pretending it didn't."
After her life took a turn, Nova Sinclair is forced to move schools. New school. New rules- a fresh start. A chance to focus on her goals and obey her mother.
Th...
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"The way that you glow, everybody knows that you've got a heart of gold."
| Nova Sinclair |
It's one of those depressing days.
The paint I smear across the canvas in front me reeks of tears I didn't yet shed.
My mind is somewhere far, far away from this world. But my hand moves in a dance, to form a picture. Tchaikovsky is blasting from the speaker beside me, the rain background music.
Whenever I feel down, I paint.
It always helped me calm down, and turn my feelings into something sensible.
My feelings are, obviously, not something I can comprehend easily. So if I don't put them out of my head, I'd be insane by now.
I didn't get enough sleep last night because I was studying. Initially, I wasn't planning on studying that late at night but you now know your birth-givers can be.
Even from hundreds of miles away, she has this iron grip on me. I try to pry her off, key word: try. All I've got are bloody hands.
The school was over hours ago, but I was here from the last period.
All the students left, and I don't think I'm supposed to be here but the teacher assured that I can stay so I'll trust his word.
For a second, I stop my hands, my mind now in the present.
I can't comprehend the picture in front me, it's a silhouette. A silhouette in a crowd full of people, standing out in black and white while the others are in colors.
Screaming colors, might I add.
The part I can't comprehend is the eyes. The silhouette is not completed yet, but only the eyes are there.
This is what happens when I paint, I absentmindedly let my fingers and paintbrush run over the canvas. Then I stare at it, trying to make sense of it.
I work in strange ways, don't judge.
In the dimly lit room, I stand up and stretch my legs after sitting for hours.
I stop the music and walk across the room slowly, listening to the rain splatter against the window.
This class is strange, different from others.
The architecture intrigues me the most, the walls intricately carved as if straight from an ancient church in Rome.
There's a wall at the back of the room lined with old books no one ever picks up, covered in dust.
Best part? The room is basically underground.
The windows are high up because the rest of the room is underground.
