Invisible Strings of the Heart

CHAPTER ONE: no one drives this way

Chapter One:

My brain's a dog asleep that I cannot let lie

Cloudy head, though I can't find a single silver lining

Guess there is no hope for me in sight

To ease this troubled mind

Noah Kahan: Troubled Mind

Manon Blackbeack was no stranger to change. She was no stranger to new environments or new people, because no matter where she was, or who she was with, she'd always be the same. There was no changing her. She inflicted pain wherever she went, and this new school--this new town, would not change anything.

At least this time, she knew not to get too attached. Because after this year ended, Asterin would graduate, and she'd be miles away in another state for school, so she'd have to move with her, or back to her grandmother she went. A shudder climbed up her spine shooting her up on the grey sofa she currently sat in.

She didn't know where Asterin had brought her, but it was obviously some kind of party. She didn't know if she could call it that. Well, she didn't know what a party was supposed to be like, she'd never been to one. This--this was not what she imagined.

She wasn't alone on the couch, rather she had company. Two teenagers she'd probably never see again, or would depending on when school started, consumed eachother near her. She nearly gagged.

A red solo cup was shoved into her palms by Asterin some time ago. She hadn't drunk the shit inside. One, it smelled horrible, and two, red was her color, and horrible things did not belong in them. That was false. She was always in some kind of red, and she was quite horrible.

Manon got up from her seat at the cushion. The couple toppled over onto where she sat, now lying on top of one another. She groaned. Disgusting.

Her cup swung between her fingers as she walked. Nearing a dry plant, she spilled the contents of the plastic cup into the dry soil. The plant absorbed it instantly, obviously deprived of drink. That couldn't be good for it. Manon felt bad for it. Abandoned in the corner of some rich kids living room, waterless. She stared at the droopy leaves intensely. Feed me, Manon. Feed me.

Maybe she was drunk. Nevertheless, she caved it and headed for the kitchen, her cup still in hand. Fine, she was thirsty too, she might as well feed the poor thing something other than alcohol.

Her solo cup in hand, she strutted to the lavish while kitchen, obviously the product of millions of dollars of innovations. Thsi whole house screamed money. While and grey furniture. Huge paintings of Greek Gods naked as the day they were born. The smell of cologne and bleach reeked in the air as well as intoxication and sweat.

Maybe she should just leave. But, the plant was just ther, drooping. Manon groaned, she was not supposed to care for a simple thing as a plant. It made no sense. Feed me, Manon. Feed me.

She made the final stretch into the kitchen, her black heels thud, thud, thudding on the tile. Her dyed white ponytail swishing behind her head. She rubbed her lips together spreading the bright red of them together. Color, to bring out her colorless face.

Holy Hell, it was impossible to even get to the sink. A girl had her bag pressed against it, her head curved almost touching the faucet. Manon groaned for the millionth time that night. Not the good kind of groan.

"Move," she mumbled. The guy peered up to her from the girl's collarbone.

"Rude," the girl whispered before she was wisked away by the hips to another more secular location. Good, whatever.