Blue Sunflowers [discontinued]

11

E L E V E N :   s i n g  m e   t o   d e a t h

Home was where your heart is. Home was where the ones you love are together with you. Home was where you are in your comfort zone.

But to Historia, everything was the opposite of all those flowery and mellow descriptions.

Home was where it was cold.

Home was where she wasn't comfortable.

"I'm home." she chimed in monotonously as she walked in the house, her supposed home, but is only an empty building necessary for shelter. Her voice had a bitter and begrudging tone laced with it, for her day wasn't exactly pleasant.

Her saxe eyes were morose and reflective, her blonde lashes shrouding them from the clarity of others. Eyes were the window to the soul, and today Historia's windows were painted gray and curtained with dark, solid drapes. 

As seen on the last two days, her mood wasn't the best. Alma had failed to pick her up on a rainy day so the blonde teen decided to walk under the nondescript, funereal cumulonimbus heavens. Then her psychology teacher, Miss Frieda pulls up and offers a ride to the blonde, drenched kid, which she agreed.

That event only made a mess and today's happenings added to it, way worse.

The whore's blonde child gritted her teeth and growled, giving a sharp sideways glance as she awaited her mother's answer. "I just hope you aren't sucking dick right now." she muttered, her mother really getting under her skin quick.

Historia kicked off her shiny leather shoes, along with the innocent Christa façade. As quick as removing a mask, her mood and attitude immediately changed.

She flinched as she heard her mom replied to her dirty statement.

"Historia, you better silence yourself before I come to slap you."

There stood Alma by the staircase, her temperament no better than her daughter. The tall woman was leaning on the railings, frowning. Her light hair was matted and tangled as if someone had been pulling on them.