seraphic [h.s]

chapter eighteen.

It was safe to say, today was my kinda day.

Since we'd come back from the city, I'd made it my mission to flee from everyone as soon as we'd gotten home. Yesterday was just that, yesterday. I pleaded with myself to forget the memory entirely, only keeping snippets of parts that made me smile, and that's exactly what I did. I could therefore carry on with my life, free from any guilt that particular situations could have caused because if I didn't, it would set me back far too often than I'd like.

When it came to last night, the certain individuals that I had planned to avoid made it much easier for me to stick by that plan once they'd left for the night. From what I'd heard through the thin walls of my home, was that 'so and so' had a party happening and they'd be 'stupid for not going'.

It made my life sail easier, the nights sleep in my own bed— by myself— was everything I needed and more. So of course, waking up this morning, still to an empty bed, made my heart fasten with excitement knowing I didn't have to go out of my way to dodge any certain people.

I had done my usual morning habitual tasks, then slipping on my purple bathing suit set as well as my denim overalls atop. Hauling my cotton bag that held all of my paints tubes in, I descended the stairs with it over my shoulder. My other hand clutching onto a fresh new canvas and my overused palette balancing on its surface. Today deemed perfect for a new painting, I was alone, it was warm out but not disgustingly hot and there was something buzzing inside of me that usually led to an interesting piece of art.

Propping my foot out, I slid the glass door across, walking out onto the warm pavement and running onto the grass to place everything down. Stepping back inside and into the kitchen, I pulled out my favourite box of cereal— one that no one else ate but me— shimmying it into a ceramic bowl and filling it up with milk. Humming my way around the kitchen, I held the bowl to my chest as I spooned the cereal into my mouth, content in my surroundings and wanting to stay like this forever.

Once I'd finished and cleaned up, I happily walked back outside, feeling satisfied with how everything had panned out so far. I knelt down onto the grass, laying the empty canvas before me as I squeezed each tube of paint onto the palette— which was messy and used and frayed, and anyone would tell me that it had well and truly passed its expiration date. But it was mine, and it was one of the first things I'd bought myself because god only knows that my parents wouldn't waste their money on art supplies when it would 'eventually be of no use'.

Picking up the paintbrush between my fingers, I dabbed the bristles into the mixture of light blue I'd created, I had no idea what I was going to paint, but it always seemed to come naturally as soon as the brush would hit the canvas.

I knew, of course, that the moment wouldn't last forever. Though I did at least think it would have lasted for much longer, as a jingle of keys sounded from the front door. And I knew then, that maybe I really wasn't capable of having nice things, or able to enjoy any kind of moment for myself. Those thoughts then confirmed themselves as I heard more than one person talking— meaning that they were all back.

Acting as though they hadn't just completely put a damper on my morning, I proceeded with the brush, adding a dark blue shade to the lighter blue for some depth. The only thing that came to mind when looking at the canvas now was some sort of pond, and I couldn't for the life of me understand why, but that's what I'd decided to go with. And it would be the best damn pond that I'd ever paint.

I could hear the glass door slide across from behind me, I didn't falter, I didn't stop, I just continued my actions, praying to god it wasn't who I thought it would be. Though I should have known by now that the world loved to do the opposite of what I'd hoped.