The Boy Who Paints Me (SAMPLE OF PUBLISHED BOOK)

The Boy Who Paints Me - Chapter 4 (SAMPLE)

Chapter 4

Staring at the ceiling had become my latest hobby. Last night was added to my list of sleepless nights. I wanted so desperately to try and relax, and enjoy my time here but when I'm lying there, alone, my mind just drifts. It drifts to the past, it drifts to the pain, and it drifts to all the places that I try to run away from.

Last night it was my mom's face that haunted me. Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy. I sit here and will myself to hate her but I can't. It makes me feel sick that I know everything that she has done, and I still love her. What kind of person does that make me?  I love the woman that she used to be, the one she promised to be and the one that she should have been for the rest of my life. I know that she is none of the above so why do I still love her? 

I lay in bed all night, wondering where she was, just like the night that she disappeared. I didn't blame her for leaving; I understood. I understood that no woman should have to live with a man that hits her: a man who tells her that she's ugly, a man who tells her that she's worthless, that tells her that no other man will ever want her. I understand, wanting to escape a man that holds you down every night, taking what he wants, knowing that your daughter lies in the room next door. I understand every part of that. What I don't understand is why you would run away from a man like that, and leave your daughter behind. I will never understand that.

She always used to say ‘it’s not as bad for you, you’re his favorite. He’ll never hurt you’. If only she could understand how sick and twisted her words were. I wasn’t his favorite; I was nothing to him but a business deal. He admitted it many times ‘we can’t mark that pretty body of yours now, can we Princess? That’s our best money maker’. I feel sick just thinking about it. My mom was right, he never hit me but sometimes it’s the scars that you can’t see that are the worst.

Every day I waited for her to come back after she disappeared in the middle of the night. Night after night I sat there doing more favors for Mitch, praying that she was coming back. I only ever stayed because I didn't want to leave her alone with him. I didn't leave, in case she came back. In case he hurt her because of me.

I remember sitting in my room one day - it had been two weeks since she had disappeared - and every day I was losing a little more faith in her. I was preparing to do Mitch another favor. He said 'make sure you look pretty'. I remember grabbing a hold of the necklace that my mom bought me when I was thirteen. My hands were shaking. I felt nervous and sick. I never knew who would walk through my bedroom door but it didn't matter. The moment they entered, Rainie left, and Rain took her place. I sat on the edge of my bed trying to fix my necklace when it fell out of my hand. It slipped underneath my bed, making me even more nervous. I remember crouching down, trying to reach it when something under my bed caught my eye. It was a neatly folded piece of paper with my name printed on it. I recognised my mother's handwriting instantly. I stretched my arm until my fingertips grasped the edge of the paper. I pulled it towards me after glancing at my bedroom door nervously. I remember the excitement that rumbled in my stomach as I stared down at the yellow piece of paper. All the time that I had been angry at her for leaving, suddenly disappeared. She had left me a clue; a piece to the puzzle. I had just missed it. I remember jumping to my feet and pressing my ear against my bedroom door, listening for footsteps. When I was sure that I was alone, I quickly ran to my bed with the piece of paper still clutched in the palm of my hand. 

I was eighteen, but I felt like a little child, excited that she might be wrong, and that her mother loved her after all.

It was like everything was going in slow motion as I unfolded the corners of the paper. I remember the butterflies in my stomach and the excitement that was swirling around my body. Most of all, I remember the moment that my eyes met the five letters printed in capital letters in the middle of the yellow piece of paper.