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PROLOGUE: It's A New Day, It's A New Life

A/N: This part use to be a synopsis of the story but like the others since the reworks; I've made it into a short prequel.

Also by the title of the prequel you sure as hell know that I had Feeling Good by Michael Buble playing on repeat ;) Enjoy!

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PROLOGUE: It's A New Day, It's A New Life

LESLIE

As I swipe my paintbrush across the canvas in swift motions, I'm not even paying attention to what I'm creating. My left hand moves on its own—it has its own mind, it's own feelings—and at this moment it's feeling a multitude of emotions.

Anger. Grief. Resentment. Regret. Guilt.

Every bad emotion a person could feel—I'm feeling right now and it's the only thing that fuels me to create the distorted masterpieces I've been creating lately. Some say that emotional, fucked up people can make the best artist. Well fucked up me is about to be the next Pablo Picasso people.

The black and grey oils splash and drip along the white canvas as I swipe along to the beat of the song playing on my echo dot in my bedroom. The bedroom that's currently being overtaken by moving boxes.

Stars when you shine
You know how I feel
Scent of the pine
You know how I feel
Oh, freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

Yeah, you know exactly how I feel. Probably the only one honestly.

I let the flow of the trumpets and piano of the song overtake me as I add a splash of color to the canvas. Red.

The color that represents lust, love, rage, hate, anger, all of the mixed and bottled up emotions of my soul. It presents the loss of my innocence, the loss of life deep down inside of me.

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
It's a new life
For me

It's done.

I stand back as I grasp the paintbrush in my hand, red paint dripping onto the plastic tarp beneath and take in the masterpiece before me.

The canvas is covered in shades of black and grey that make out a demented looking butterfly with shades of red pouring out of its body and wings. The creature is on its last bit of flight—of life. Soon, so very soon, this creature will plummet to the earth below and no longer will be able to sore into the sky to its freedom.

Hell—maybe even a collector will come across it and place it inside their clear case with pins, putting the creature on display for everyone to admire.

The sound of the trumpet in the background slowly fades out into nothingness as I continue to stare at the painting. There's a light tap on the open door beside me and I don't look up to acknowledge the person. I don't need to—I already know who it is.

"It's time to go kiddo," a baritone voice speaks, pulling me from my trance. I only nod in response as I place the dripping paintbrush into the water cup on the desk beside me.

I take one last look at the last painting I'll ever concoct in this place—my home.

When I finally get on the plane to leave my old life and start a new, I begin to wonder what that painting meant. Even though I created it, I honestly can't say what exactly fueled me to pick that particular subject or the meaning behind it.

Maybe it's a symbol for a new beginning. Possibly the end of my old life back in Sydney. Or it could even symbolize the pain I'm going through and have been going through the last couple of months.

Maybe, just maybe—I'm on the verge of crashing back down to earth. Flightless and afraid—waiting for death to greet me.

I just hope when I do, I'm beautiful enough to be put on display for all the world to see me.

Here you have it ladies and gents—the girl who lost fucking everything and had absolutely nothing going for her, Leslie Fucking Harris.