SELENAS POV
Nana: Selena is that you honey?
I slam the front door shut, grabbing Rex"s attention immediately. He bounces to his four feet and begins to trot towards me. I kneel down and scratch the top of his head.
Nana unintentionally interrupts us, as she walks into the room.
Nana: why are you late this afternoon, it's almost five thirty.
Her gaze moves to the wrist watch on her arm.
Selena: detention
I avoid eye contact, keeping most of my attention on the dog in front of me.
Nana: why on earth were you in detention young lady?
Selena: I broke the teachers arm.
Nana: excuse me?!
Selena: relax nana, I'm only kidding.
I stand so I am now eye level with her and hear her sigh in relief.
Selena: alright, well I'm going now, lovely chat by the way.
I can almost feel her rolling her eyes behind me as I grab a cookie off the bench, on the way to my bedroom.
Morgi: Sel! My little sisters voice is heard through out the house. I make my way up the hallway and into her bedroom, to find her sitting on her bed with her text books spread out in front of her. The thirteen year old is like my own daughter, I protect her the most out of every person I know. A lot of loved ones seem to think that she looks a lot like me, but I don't see it. Her attitude in life is a lot different to mine, she has a lot of friends, she is easy to talk to, and she is just, nice.
Selena: how was school?
Morgi: boring
This is her answer every afternoon, I think we have found ourselves a routine.
Selena: just wait until your in senior year bub.
I tease, before walking towards her and sitting on the edge of her bed.
Morgi: what about you?
Selena: annoying
She chuckles.
Selena: alright well if you need help with anything, I'll be in the art room okay?
She nods, although I know her attention isn't fully on me.
I pace out of her bedroom, not bothering to close the door behind me, and make my way down the hallway, to the black door at the very end of it. The black is a massive stand out from the entire house, the walls are splattered in white paint, in fact almost every thing is, apart of course from this door. I slowly open it, swiftly move inside, and close the door behind me, taking every thing in.
This room is my therapy, the place where I go when I have the occasional breakdown, or even when people are beginning to piss me off, for example Justin in detention this afternoon. The little shit.
There are many windows in this room, big beautiful windows, with black skirting. The walls were originally white, but over the years have been splattered with all different colors of paint, and filled with the pieces if work that my mother painted, well the ones that could be saved in the wreckage from the fire.
I breathe in and out slowly, a paint brush in my hand.
When I am painting, I feel like a whole different person, for one thing I don't have someone in a head lock, but the other being that I almost feel like the old Selena, the one that used to sit in the corner intently, and watch her mother paint.
