Your pants look better on my floor ;)

Your pants look better on my floor ;) CH4!

"You can spend your entire life dreaming; or you can spend your entire life wishing. But i'm spending mine /doing/".

you know you thought of it pervertedly the first second ;D

PART TWO; the begging of fate.

I've been through a lot. And most of the things I've been willing to attain have been accomplished with inspiring grant so I dispute and kindly reject help from other individuals - I simply don't need it.

Even though somewhere deep down, I know I want it.

"Hello dear, I'm Susan Swan - this is my husband Charley and my youngest son, Vince." A lean women who much reflects the image of perfect, shakes my hand with a dazzling smile bonded on her face as if by accident. But I don't have time to comment on her other fake flaws because my mind is too busy lingering on her final word - Vince.

I see this boy with the same polo shirt from before, standing in front me nodding his head in approval - not even acknowledging my existence the least bit. I've never been so irritated with someone.

There are many things I'm not, but forget never quite made the catch. You simply cannot forget people such as myself; so vivid and full of life.

I decide to make a scene. Those are always good. They capture the moment, imprisoning itself in its own shell for eternity.

"Bitch please, could you make a lousier introduction?" This 'Susan Swan' seems shocked - actually, glancing around, I'm stunned to find them all completely alarmed.

They have such blank expressions on their face that it makes me question if they lack an emotional disorder. Wouldn't you expect them to be furious with me? I completely insulted their kindness and assistance. I'm not saying what they're doing is fully right - but it's not wrong either. So when a trouble teen, such as myself is being utterly disrespectful towards the aid of other individuals that are providing it - wouldn't it be only correct if they shared signs of irritation and fuming rage?

But they don't; instead they eyeball with suspicion. Probably inspecting me to pull out my gun and shoot them. Darn, the day I need it - I leave it at home.

Just kidding, sort of.

"We have a room already provided for you. It's not completely finished, we were expecting a much younger child," Lousy Swan reminded me once more, "And we weren't certain if the color of the room would fit you."

"What color is it?" I snicker, oddity slithering up my spine - tickling behind my ears and aching my heart to question.

"It's azure." Vince chirps in, his jade eyes dancing from charm. And that's when it hits me - right on my side, a bit below my right rib, creating a throbbing ache of disbelief. Because Vince is suspecting I don't know what azure means; he's waiting, almost /begging/ for me to question him. That's when he captures his silenced laugh - rolls his eyes and pities a dumb girl like me.

Too bad he doesn't know my secret weapon - my brain.

"Sounds menacing, my mother always agreed blue represented misguided feelings and cruel love." That's a lie and although I'm not sure what I'm really trying to prove with my statement I'm glad it sounds sophisticated and refined. This ponders everyone for a moment before the father of the family speaks.

"I am taking you in as my daughter - this is not appropriate tone in use but I have come to comprehend your difficult life. I do not know how you spoke to your peers and guardians at home, but this is most certainly not the way to speak here. You can sleep in the guest room for the next few days until your room is finished. But as your punishment, you will paint the room by yourself; with Vince's assistance present of course. That is all." And he just walks away - turns and storms out into his secret office under the stair case.

The house is /grand/. It's more like a mansion - a secret castle. And I know they are wealthy, complex people that each hold their very own opinions for saving the world. I could drop my attitude right now and give in. I could erase my past; my history, ever so casually and sync in with their little lies. I could pretend I'm one of them and grow up; live in a simple life such as their own. This opportunity is luxurious - many would kill to be in my sneakers right now. So why am I having such a difficult time recollecting my thoughts?

Because of the past; it holds me together. Tying up the loose knots I carried. I've seen everything I never should have. Living in the life of a criminal is difficult and it becomes engraved into your soul whether you would like it or not. Its permanent scars in my body, carved fabulously, reminding me of what cannot be undone.

So I decide against compromising; but for altercation. And the family's life, which with my help would reflect living hell.

Something beeps and the Swan, Vince's mother rushes to check on her pot roast or whatever that horrid smell represents, leaving me alone with Vince.

I'd like to tell him off, let him know he can't get into my pants but that goddamn son of a bitch, just smiles and laughs.

"I have a girlfriend." He informs me.