twisted beautiful things

xxix. hurricane

xxix. hurricane

'cigarettes and (hUgGinG) on the windowsill

in my bed yeah, tell me when you're getting here

only thing i wanna know 

is how far away you are

cigarettes and (hUgGiNg) on the windowsill

break the glass, go on show me how you really feel

only thing i wanna know 

is how far away you are'

(zayn)

[yallll this song is so hot omg]

ok sorry enjoy ig 

>>>

novella

The hurricane that sweeps through my head everyday has destroyed the already delicate compartments of my mind.

Everyday is the same, and I am faced with the same mess created by this hurricane that takes the shape of my mother.

I love her. I really do.

But loving hurts, and I am being torn apart from the inside out.

It's a Friday night, and I hurry about the house making last minute corrections to the display of the house. Guests were due to arrive at any moment, and I haven't the chance to change into something tolerable.

Mom is having friends over, friends she used to have a tight knit circle with. I wonder if any of them know where she's been all this time, what's she been up to.

The house smells like apple pie and pumpkin, a tribute to the changing season. Dinner is spread out on the table and everything is cleaned to a sparkling shine. Downstairs mom is messing with the music, trying to find a suitable station.

I'm upstairs in my bathroom, hurrying to get dressed and let my hair down from the knot on top of my head, the golden curls falling in a tangled mess around my shoulders. I have to scramble for the old dry shampoo my mother had given me, but the thing about this product is that it stains my hair white, which is a source of frustration for my mother and I.

Nonetheless, I'm able to run some through my hair and put a few more curls in before slipping into a dress appropriate for a dinner party.

The first ring at the door of the night alerts me that people are arriving and I panic, hurrying to shave my legs and I accidentally nick my ankle, a sliver of blood appearing.

I hear my mother greeting someone enthusiastically and I spritz some perfume on before heading downstairs to greet the first person to arrive.

It's my mother's friend named Jasmine. She and my mother stand in the foyer embracing each other, chattering excitedly.

I stand there awkwardly, waiting for the two to separate so I could say hi. It's always been standard procedure for me to greet everyone at the door and then move somewhere in the house to find something to help out with.