as I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I knew if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I'd still be trapped. ❞
Society's expectations of cliques and labels would frown on the group that used to be, the jock...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IRASCIBLE CHAPTER ONE ❝YOU STABBED ME THEN PRETENDED YOU WERE THE ONE BLEEDING❞
♧ ♧ ♧
PAINT. THERE WAS NOT ONE FREE SPOT IN THE ROOM. but then again what do you expect when your parents are maestros. It was the bright colours and stink of the chemicals, but it wasn't just the one room that had been corrupted it was everywhere. What does someone do with that much fucking paint?
Daniela frowns as she steps in a little puddle of paint left on the sheets of paper protecting the carpeted floors of their double story home, that was the fifth pair of shoes ruined just this week. Despite the frustration, she was to kind to demand that they take their art somewhere else.
A knock on her door broke her train of thoughts just as she begun removing the paint from her new converses. Scrubbing away at the bottom of the shoe she looked as her mother stepped into the room, Valeria Flores was the opposite of most working moms with her light blue jeans, previously white shirt that was now stained with paint, and her long dark locks falling to shoulder length.
"It's time for breakfast," she said softly from the threshold. The paint bucket tumbling over and causing a larger spill, Valeria unbothered by the mess stands it up and wipes her hands on the shirt adding a splash of baby blue. "You don't want to keep your dad waiting, do you?"
Daniela drops the rag carelessly and steps around her mother before she could say something else or make her feel guilty for not showing up to the gallery's event last night.
"Hey Daddy!" Daniela chirps happily as she pecked his cheek before walking over to the dining table. Her father, Alejandro Flores, was like many other fathers who seemed strong and firm on the outside, but immediately dropped the act around their little girls.
"your happy this morning, are you sure this is our child, honey?" He joked as Daniela used a napkin to rub at the drying paint making little to no progress with the flimsy bit of tissue. "Honey, can you please purchase another pair of shoes today."
Daniela innocently smiles at her father before biting into the French toast. Breakfast was silent as always as the family ate their morning meal. No words were exchanged except the occasional groan from her father as he attempted the daily crossword in the newspaper.
And Daniela could only pray that her parents won't mention the gallery. She prays that the hushed conversation excluding her isn't entirely about her sucky attendance record when it came to supporting their gallery.
"Thank you for the French toast, daddy." She said brightly as the cutlery clatters loudly on the plate. Daniela got up and tightened her ponytail afraid of it getting messy during the day. "I must be on my way. I'm already running a minute behind schedule."
Just as she was about to walk towards the front door her father call out to her.
"Dani —" she clears her throat and slowly turned. The teenage girl avoided her parents' pleading gaze by staring at the little specks on paint on the hardwood floor beneath her feet. Alejandro sighed as he stood holding a pamphlet in his hands. "We'll be home late tonight, another PRIDE meeting."
