paint || c.h

next door

it had been fifteen years since that day, and i still hadn't a friend.

"clara! time for dinner." mom shouted. i loved having two moms, but it sometimes sucked. they nagged so much it gives me headaches sometimes. i don't bother yelling back because, why use your voice when you don't have to? i set down my paintbrush and start down the stairs.

"we made pork chops and salad." mama informs me. i really am never hungry, but i eat a little anyway. my parents had already made a plate for me, so i sit down and eat less than half of it. i really just want to go back and just paint the day away. it's really all i do anyway. it's a whole other world, it blocks out the boring one i'm stuck in. nothing ever happens here, and i hate it.

-

"hey, there's people moving next door, mama doesn't want you to have friends, but i disagree. there's a boy about your age." her hushed voice breaks the peace i had while painting. i almost hadn't heard her, and that's surprising since i can hear everything. i just nod in response and she sighs and closes the door behind her.

"mom?" i strain my voice, it hadn't been used in over two years, when i was upset about messing up on a painting. i chuckle at the memory of myself screaming bloody murder. i really liked that painting.

"y-yes?" mom's voice is laced with concern and shock. she always tried to get me to talk, but usually fails.

"why can't i have friends?" i asked quietly, hoping mama never hears. she would go ballistic. mom's face contorted in what seemed like pain and sorrow. i hated seeing her so conflicted about a question i asked.

"that's a question you'll have to find out for yourself. i'm sorry sweetheart."

and that's exactly what i'll do.

-rileigh-