How to Paint

Betrayal - 1

This is a sub chapter of the section -Betrayal-. Or A.K.A, the aftermath of what happened after the soul was painted.

-1

The next day mum was out with her friends. Last night I had been packing up all my things, and unsuprisingly, there wasn't much. Only enough to fill a duffel bag.

The moment she left. I quickly went down stairs of our mansion. You see my sperm doner was extremely rich. And I'm not talking about the average kind. No, he owned a gigantic company; he had built all of his success by himself, and that's the only thing I admire of 'him'.

However after he died. He had given it to a 'friend' of his to take care of, and in return, 40% of the profit would be mine. I know why he gave it to his 'friend' though, because he was bisexual and was secretly in love with that guy.

So anyway, my family was extremely and terribly rich. So rich that, I guess, it had somehow made my dad go nuts in his crazy mind.

I then quickly entered the kitchen to get a lot of food, but not enough to make my mum notice.

I had left a note on the counter saying that I had went to the park for some fresh air. She would believe me though, since I often did that.

And so I went to the police station.

I told them that I was running away from my abusive mum that was about to kill me. And soon was told to wait.

I sat down and looked around. The place, well, it was quite normal. The air conditioner was humming peacefully during the hot summer day, while the blue strings attached danced in the air as if they were free. The 12 o'clock sunlight beamed through the windows, painting the room with all of the world's glory. The image was picture perfect, it was beautiful; it was safe; it was calm. It made the office promise hope and safety.

"You must be Arason Lakers. Come on in" an officer asked me to enter a room, and I followed.

"Hi, Arason. I am Officer Colton. I deal with cases like yours. And I would like to know everything" he offered. Officer Colton looked like he was in his mid 20's and was pretty well built. He was pretty intimidating really, but then again, every and any male scared me.

I told him everything. About the abuse, the threats, my mum, and everything in between. Though it was extremely hard since I could barely speak. I felt like breaking down every time. But I had to be strong.

After the end of my speach. Officer Colton nodded and asked me why I was wearing a hoodie when it was 40°c outside. I didn't want to answer, but I knew it was for the better.

"I don't want people to see my scars." I admitted softly.

There was a pause, a silence after that. He looked deep in thought, and for a second, I thought that he wasn't going to help.

As the silence pulled on, I glanced at him, almost studying. He looked tired. Like he was drawn down by all the things he had seen and heard throughout his time here. He looked worried, as if the world was going to explode in any second, or maybe that he knew, humanity was just done, that there wasn't any left.

Officer Colton's POV

I heard her answer softly. I told her that it's fine and asked to see the scars she spoke of. I know that it's bad for me to question her honesty, but I had many rebelious teenagers telling me about the same kind of stories.

And she took out her hoodie. . . I couldn't believe my eyes. Her skin was completely scarred. Every single inch was either covered with lines and lines of what would be the torture that she had mentioned or the burnt holes that her dad had given her using his cigarette bud. There was also a gigantic scar along her whole left arm that was at least 5 cm wide. With wide eyes I wondered how much worse it would and could be under that t-shirt. This had to be the worse case I had seen. And then I saw how one of her fingers seemed to be bent in a strange way. I asked and she said that her dad had once stepped on it.

I knew her dad, every one did

Though to me he was the extremely rich bastard that always came to the police station accused of abuse against the prostitute that he had then paid off. And to people that didn't know him as that person, they thought he was Robert Lakers almighty. But luckly I do, and I trusted her story completely.

"So I'll help you with the child protection centre and we'll hopefully sort this out. But are you sure you want to go to fostercare?"

"Yes" came her strongest answer throughout the whole interrogation.

A/N - So how's it? I hope you like it. I'm sorry if you don't. And sorry that it's so short. But I promise that next chapter would be longer.
Also can you guys please help me rate this? I'm not really sure if it's PG or PG - 13. Thank you :)