"And by the way, love," He said in a low voice, his lips ghosting over my ear. "My name is Harry. Not Harold." -//- Elliana thought her family moved away for her father's work. She thought her parents were happy. But what she didn't think was that she, without a reason, had moved into The Strand; the neighbourhood where registered sex offenders are sent to live. People at school seem to know who she is and where she lives before she even arrives. And her next door neighbour seems unable to stay away. ** WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS ACTS OF VIOLENCE, IMPLIED RAPE, EXTREME LANGUAGE, AND MATURE CONTENT. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. **

She was dressed to kill and he was to die for. © whiskeystyles

Art is a form of communication. Whether it is through music, through writing or through painting, every note you play, every word you write and every drop of paint you put on the canvas displays an emotion. For many, it is also a form of relief, a way to say everything you wish you'd say and a way to escape everything. Some paint on a daily basis, other paint on impulse. Annabelle Snow paints on impulse. To her, it is the way to paint. It shows what you truly feel, although sometimes it may reveal things you would rather forget. This is the story of a girl passionate about art, who had her fair share of misery and was left bitter by it.

She was the anchor that kept him steady above the water. He was the anchor that made her sink. A story filled with ups and downs. An unsteady sea, really.

[COMPLETED] A story that started with a roadtrip in which lots of alcohol and sex was involved but ended with much more complicated things such as love. cover made by @dissolve

"I like a woman who can beat me at my own game." // cover credit to @herwalls