VIOLET P.O.V
I observed satisfyingly my new room from my door way. The thick wooden panels that surrounded each wall made the luscious and green hanging plants stand out beautifully. My bed was left with plain white sheets and my desk was organised profoundly, my cream coloured type writer, of course, being centred.
My speakers played the calming lullabies of The Fray as I smiled, drowning in the soft melody. Beams of sunlight streamed through my window, a mixture of pink and orange engulfing my bedroom, the slats of my blinds chopping it into a myriad of rays that lazily slid across my room.
I cleaned a few smudges still left on the walls before I heard my fathers voice.
"Violet!" I heard my father call.
"Yes!?" I spoke. Silence.... Way to leave me hanging dad. I trudged unwilling down the winding, carpet covered steps.
"I just want to make sure that you fully are prepared for tomorrow...?" he questioned. I nodded, ticking the boxes of my mental checklist as I walked into the kitchen.
"Violet honey! Do you think you could make a pot roast or maybe even some spaghetti?" Father said mockingly, poking his head around the corner. I scoffed. I couldn't even make a piece of toast without it miraculously turning a shade of... well... black. Cereal is my limit folks. You see, crunchy nut cornflakes and I have grown very close over the years.
My mind quickly became overrun with a vortex of possibilities about how tomorrow would go. The inevitability of high school bullies made me groan. I was never exactly miss popular. My plan is to just keep my head low. Try to be unnoticed and see how long that lasts.
I huffed, finishing off the remainder of my cereal milk. There is no point worrying about tomorrow.
I kissed my dad on the cheek before racing up stairs, plopping dramatically on my bed. I struggled pulling the blankets over myself, but finally succeeded, letting the comforter slowly envelope me into its warmth.
Tomorrow is going to be fine, Violet. It's going to be just fine.
