change → chris schistad (skam)

+four+

[trigger warning: sexual abuse]

 //flashy and fearless//

[Friday 22:49]

I apply one more coat of black mascara to my lashes and toss it inside the drawer of my vanity. I look at myself in the mirror attached to the vanity and use my tongue to wipe my teeth that my lipstick had ambushed. I picked up the perfume and turned the nozzle towards myself, spraying it on my blue shirt that I had not changed out of but added some cotton leggings to. I place it back on the vanity and stood up sliding the chair inside the little gap between the drawers. This vanity was the one piece of furniture that I had picked out myself when moving to the new house. I told my father that I needed something that would allow me access to my makeup, which I take very seriously. He doesn't understand, he think its foolish that I spend all the money he sends me on makeup but of course he's a believer that women shouldn't try to change their features. 

In my opinion, makeup isn't about changing your features, it's about 'enhancing' them. No one should ever feel like they have to hide behind makeup. Its an art and I love using it to express myself. For example, I had sharp winged eyeliner and a bold black lip. This Penetrator party that I was being forced to go to was already putting me in deep annoyance. Hopefully, my anger would radiate off my face and warn everyone that I was pissed. 

Actually, not everyone, just Penetrator Chris.

I run my fingers through my hair and glance back in the mirror for the final time. I walk over to my closet centered opposite of my bed and slide the mirror back. Yanking a leather jacket off the plastic hanger leaving it to fall on the ground covered with shoes, I walk over to my door and hit the light switch. The girls had called me 5 minutes ago saying they were outside the gate but I told them to enter 223 on the intercom and it would allow them to come in. Hopefully they followed my directions.

"Bye Cola." I said nudging the kitten who was snoring slightly on it's bed. Cola was a baby kitten that my grandmother's cat had and when my grandmother passed 6 months ago, the cat followed shortly after. My dad said it's because animals get really attached to their owners and when his mom and dad died, the cat was too lonely and went into depression. My dad was depressed for a long time when my mom passed, she died of ovarian cancer. I felt like Cola for a long time, abandoned. That's when we moved to Oslo from Bergen.

I swung open the door and seen the girls huddled outside my door. I laughed at the sight of them mobbing my door. They all looked stunning, they really were ready for this party.

"Hei!" I laughed at them stepping out and slamming the windowed door, "Why're you all standing here? You could've knocked and I would have let you guys hang out inside. You guys are so insane."

"We only just got here but wow!" Vilde gulps glancing around, "Your house is so big. We knew you were rich but this rich!" Vilde gasps turning around examining the freshly cut grass and the pebbled round-a-bout that led up to the entrance of the house.

"Vilde, you can't just say things like that!" Noora scolded swatting her arm in a motherly way. Noora always kept the group in tact, she was literally the glue that molded the girl squad together, I love her.

I sigh and step past them walking away from the oversized house that one would probably kill to live in. "No Vilde, I'm not rich, It's my dad who's rich. We just moved in here when I came in the beginning of the year. My dad's only slept in here for 2 weeks and I haven't seen him in 2 months. It's not that great, it's very lonely and I'd much rather live in a smaller house. It also gets really scary when you're in one room and you don't know if someone can be inside all the way on the other side of the premises."