Bloom| Stiles Stilinski

one ✿ less death, more taylor swift

━━･ ❪CHAPTER ONE❫ ･━━
less death, more taylor swift

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CINTH LIKED TO BELIEVE that she knew peace, even if peace didn't know her. Perhaps it existed as some kind of paradox, that she could be so attuned to something that evaded her. Perhaps she was just lying to herself. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter to her. Not while it was working out in her favour.

Painting had always been an outlet for her, ever since the death of her parents nine years ago. The child psychologist she had visited for a year and a half after the death had always tried to make her draw how she felt. The woman must have been looking for depictions of anger, sadness, grief. Something dark to claw out and examine in the light. But Cinth didn't like to channel those. She found that enacting scenes of tranquility almost seemed to balance out the chaos in her mind. As if they fought each other into a neutral state.

So her childish scribbles had typically ended up as such: a sunny beach, a smiling lollipop, a snowman waving happily up at her. The psychologist hadn't liked that and informed Cinth's aunt Eden that Cinth was unfixable. That same day, Eden had to be escorted off the premises following a few choice words shouted at the psychologist. That evening, Cinth had been given an easel and some brand new paints.

Cinth took a step back on the carpeted floor of her bedroom to look at her painting from afar, resting on the very easel she had received all those years ago. A work in progress from over the past four days, she was hoping to finish it tonight before school could rob her of even more free time. Sophomore year was really starting to take its toll.

The painting was of a forest landscape that had appeared several times in Cinth's recent dreams. The main feature was a large tree in the centre, with a vast trunk that extended out into a beautifully woven pattern of branches. The sunlight shone through the cracks, making the scene appear ghostly.

She went to get more paint on her brush, but a muffled crash made her freeze. Ears straining, she looked at her closed bedroom door. Eden was out having drinks with friends tonight, which always meant not being back until midnight at the earliest. So who the hell was in the house?

Cinth's mind whirled into panic. There was no way she was about to be murdered after she had finished her English assignment. And covered in a paint-splattered apron. She let her eyes sweep the room, mentally weighing out what would be the best weapon of protection. Her paintbrush wouldn't have done much damage, unless she could poke it into someone's eye. And paint would probably just annoy someone intent on killing her. Deciding that her trophy from a sixth grade art competition would have to do, she hurried to grab it and cautiously approached the door.

She switched off the light, hoping maybe whoever it was would want to be quick and not try every single room. And if there was no proof of life in here...