Falling in Hate with You

Untitled Part 9

UNEDITED, feel free to point out any mistakes 

And just an FYI – my F’s and H’s are fricks/frigs and hecks. I just don’t swear loll

Song of the chapter is “Jet Pack Blues” by Fall Out Boy. Hnng.

 

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Falling in Hate With You

Chapter Nine

                “And I’m trying to find that peace of mind

                Behind these two white highway lines,

                When the city goes silent

                The ringing in my ears gets violent,

                She’s in a long black coat tonight,

                Waiting for me in the downpour outside,

She’s singing “baby come home” in a melody of tears

While the rhythm of the rain keeps time.”

I sang along quietly to the melancholy tune as my paintbrush swiped the now black canvas. I stuck my brush in the water dish, swirling it around on the ridged bottom, watching the black paint filter out of the bristles like a smoke cloud. I dipped it into a pile of silver paint and drying retardant and raised it back to the canvas, my movements slow and precise.

It was three in the morning, and my room was dark save for the lamp I had shining over my shoulder a few feet back. The atmosphere was just how I liked it; still but not silent. Once the silver had been slathered on, I swapped out the paintbrush for a sponge. I picked up the canvas from my easel and sat it in my lap, hunching over it and using the sponge in a circular motion, rubbing the silver out until it was almost non-visible.

I picked up a bottle of teal acrylic and just squirted it right on the picture, adding some more retardant and again using the sponge to almost rub it out completely. Setting that aside to dry, I rubbed my paint covered hands on my white t-shirt and ripped jeans before rinsing out my sponge and brush.

Leaning back in my chair, I stretched my arms high above my head and yawned. I peeked in my coffee cup, sighing at its lack of content. Rising from my studio setup in the corner of my room, I began tip-toeing down to the kitchen, being careful not to step on any creaky spots. As the new pot of coffee was quietly brewing, I snuck down the hallway on the opposite end of the kitchen, leading to my dad’s room.

Placing my ear to the door, I held my breath and listened; nothing. Which meant he wasn’t home, probably passed out drunk somewhere with a bunch of his friends. Or just all alone. You could never really tell with him.

                I padded back to my finished, full pot of coffee, pausing before dumping it all into three different mugs – I was so going to regret this later.

                Sure enough, three hours later I was bouncing off the walls. Every creak the old house made had me whipping my head around so fast I thought it might just tear right off my shoulders. Even when I was pulling on black skinnies and a red and white baseball style shirt – exactly like the one Troy wore in every movie – I felt paranoid. My morning routine flew by, except when I stabbed myself three times with my mascara wand and twitched so hard that my almost perfect eyeliner wing actually took flight. Right up to my temple.