Six years ago, Rey Adams thought she had finally life figured out. Having broken away from her past, her life is irrevocably altered when she meets, a man who is the first person to treat her with kindness and respect. Six years later they're engage...
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Rey was good at fixing things. She could offer others advice while not being able to digest her own words in the same sitting.
She could fix accidental flaws in her paintings, forcefully having to blend the wrong colors in with the right to look more subtle and less like a mistake.
She had also become the designated 'go-to' person when something went mechanically awry in the house. It was a trait she had learned out of boredom prior to painting, during the frequent times she'd been left alone at her uncle's flat. She would take small appliances from around the house apart to see how they worked, and put them back together without her uncle ever noticing a screw had been left out of place.
Life and love, on the other hand, were messier than the oil paints on her palette.
How was it that Disney always made it look so easy to fall in love, and ride off into the sunset with a Prince Charming when it seemed impossible that she would ever have that sort of fairytale ending?
But then that's what fairytales were for: to help fill the void where true love would never exist.
Having just exited the shower a few moments earlier to dry off and dress, she stole a glance in the bathroom vanity mirror. Her head quickly disappeared inside her favorite shabby grey hoodie as she pulled it on to cover the tank top underneath.
Not bothering to brush her hair from the tangled mess that would surely be ten times worse when it dried, Rey switched the bathroom light off with a lazy flick of her wrist and treaded her way carefully down the stairs. She ignored the not so subtle voices of her roommates carrying on about the more than eventful day, and the pair of honey-brown eyes that were intensely boring into the back of her head.
"I can't believe the fucker had a kid and never bothered to tell –."
Hux's words were abruptly cut off as Rey pulled the front door closed behind her, severing the line-of-sight that initially allowed the eyes to follow her. She flinched as the screen door accidentally slammed shut while shoving her fists into the ragged pouch with fraying edges at the front of her sweater.
The resonating song of crickets chirping carried through the evening's warm, gentle breeze that remained long after the sun had left the day's sky. She shuddered at the cold chill traveling up her spine and rippled over her shoulders, for reasons entirely unknown as it was still relatively warm outdoors.
She carefully climbed into her favorite lounging spot in the hammock and closed her eyes; her chest rose and fell shortly in a dramatic huff as she sunk into the coarse netting. Gazing into the darkness that was the back of her eyelids, Rey focused on the mellifluous choir of insects. She noted how they started off hushed in the distance, and gradually ascended as they drew closer to her precinct.
The accompaniment of a nearby tree frog would occasionally lend its voice as if it had been queued to do so, encouraging those residing within the surrounding lawns to answer: some appearing to be further down the block while one seemed like it was directly beneath the porch's wooden flooring.
