He was looking for himself...But found her instead.
A hard-headed drama queen striving for freedom from her overprotective mother.
A smart alcoholic searching for a part of himself that is lost.
Rachel Morgan and Richard Davis have nothing in common...
Hoppla! Dieses Bild entspricht nicht unseren inhaltlichen Richtlinien. Um mit dem Veröffentlichen fortfahren zu können, entferne es bitte oder lade ein anderes Bild hoch.
Art was my life.
The other half of my soul.
The only thing that ever made me truly happy and content.
Without it, my life would become colourless, bleak and hollow.
Without it, I would be incomplete forever.
So how would anyone expect me to be happy when the only thing that gave me a sense of purpose was deemed illegal in my own family?
Why should I be excited about moving to a new place when my only means of expression and sense of direction had been taken away from me?
Just thinking about it clouded my soul with a familiar feeling of misery and pain-of dejection and sorrow. Hot tears had begun to sting my dark orbs, wanting to escape but I wouldn't let them.
So maybe I should just stop thinking about it. Maybe then this lead-like weight which had dropped on my chest since the day art was taken away from me, would be relieved.
Maybe...
"Big sis, isn't our new house beautiful?!" Liliana squealed, rushing past me. Not waiting for me to answer, she twirled around in excitement and raced towards the house. Her blonde hair flowed behind her like an endless river.
She's always had longer hair.
And as much as I loved my little sister, I couldn't help but wonder how she was still able to feel any form of happiness each time we moved somewhere new. But what else should be expected from a six-year-old girl? At that age, there was still so much innocence that even the smallest thing was thrilling.
However, long before arriving at the foreign house that loomed before me, I was sure what I felt at that moment was far from excitement or glee.
Florida, Canada, Australia, Norway, Argentina, Spain, Mexico and now Hamstead freaking London! What's there to be happy about?
The cool breeze kissed my skin, making me shiver with delight as it filtered into my nose, mixing the glorious scent of flowers and cool air.
I could smell different flowers, but a particular scent took over my senses. With only one sniff, I knew what flowers they were-roses.
I looked around, and found that I was right. There was a rose bush next to the driveway.
It was difficult to forget the distinctive smell of roses because every time I had a nightmare, I would wake up still smelling them.
