Harsh Goodbyes & Butterflies {LadyNoir/Adriette}

Chapter 11

Ladybug

I was exhausted. I'd been at it for hours - sewing, stitching, pinning, and sketching until it felt like my arm would fall off, and then some. My hands were bleeding and my fingers were tired, and countless pinpricks and scissor marks made them achy and sore. My hair, once in its neat little pigtails, was now flung back with what felt like an entire pack of bobby pins, and my forehead was moist with sweat from stress and work behind my bright studio lights. The wire dress form I kept in the corner of my room had toppled over, and rolls and rolls of patterned and textured fabrics were strewn across my bed. I looked and felt like a train wreck.

And yet there was still so much to do.

I groaned as my phone vibrated, picking it up with complaining fingers and tossing it onto my bed, where it was immediately consumed by a blanket of fabrics. I didn't bother checking who it was - Alya had already called me twenty-six times in the past hour, and that was after five replies of either "I'm busy with schoolwork" or "I'm busy getting drunk and partying" from my side. I was beyond the mood of tolerance for neither honesty nor sarcasm, and I felt my head slowly lower. I folded my arms and lay them on my desk.

"Ow!" I shrieked in pain, hissing as I reached down and fished another pesky pin out from under my forearm and throwing it angrily into the pile. I slid my chair back and threw myself out onto the floor. Instead of getting up like I'd planned to, I curled up in a little ball on my carpet and wished quietly for a blanket so I could take a nap right then and there.

Next thing I knew, there was a knock at my door.

I looked up, sighing heavily as my eyelids came unglued. I had fallen asleep. I shifted a little, smiling as I looked down - a piece of faux fur fabric lay over me, creating a wonderful warmth that I knew would be hard to part with. So I decided not to part with it at all.

"Come in!" I called, flipping onto my back once more and staring at my ceiling.

A small creak, and I heard soft footsteps approach me.

"Mari?"

My mother's voice. I smiled and waved my hand in which I guessed was her general direction.

"Good morning, Mother."

I heard a sigh, and then something was placed right near my ear.

"I heard a thud and assumed you were a little on the grumpy side, but I see you took care of that." I heard the teasing tone in her voice, and then a hand reached out to smooth back my hair. "I brought you some cookies to tide you over before dinner."

I yawned and stretched, rolling over to smile at her. "Thanks, Mom. I just overestimated how much sleep I've been getting, so I accidentally fell asleep."

She nodded, fluffing her hair out a little before reaching for the door handle and stepping outside. I pushed myself up with all the strength my wounded forearms could muster, groaning as my joints clicked, and threw off the makeshift blanket grumpily.

I staggered a little as I got up. I shook my hair out of its ponytails, dark strands flying all over my face, and let myself stumble over to my desk. I shoved the chair back and collapsed into it, picking up my pencil and twirling it around in my fingers. Doing my best to swallow my restlessness, I squinted at the open sketchbook on my desk.

The endless little sketches I had doodled in vain before; the millions of concepts that had never seemed to be enough; the thoughts I barely considered before throwing them out. The designs I struggled and slaved over from the minute school got out that didn't seem to satisfy my goal.

And now, looking at them, I threw my pencil away and shrieked.

Little pieces and parts of various drawings almost called out to me in my mind. A little stitching here, combined with a gather from one and a color combination from another; everything sorted itself out, pieces of the puzzle fitting themselves together before my eyes. The pages flew under my fingers, flipping fast as lighting as I stared, until I got my bearings and switched to my notepad. Words littered the pages, my brain going miles a minute. It was a sense of joy and relief I never thought I'd be able to feel.