Yours | ✓

10 | Welcome to the Seat

   I managed to keep my breathing steady before clenching my jaw. I eyed the spray paint that was in my closet before ripping my pyjamas off my body. Quickly, I dressed in black leggings, a fitted black cropped tee shirt and a black baseball cap. Although I knew it was noticeably hot outside, with it being almost August, I didn't want to be recognizable.

   So, standing in front of my mirror, I fixed my espresso brown hair into a ponytail and slipped it into the hole above the adjustable strap. I swept my bangs to the side—well, as much as I could—before grabbing the gym bag next to my bed.

   In seconds, several cans of spray paint filled the bag before I made my way to the window. I stepped out with ease, and without another thought, I walked down the same trail I used as a teenager. It took an hour, but I was fuelled with adrenaline so the walk didn't faze me.

   It wasn't long before I stood in front of the side of the bridge. The same bridge I'd went to when I was high school to paint my feelings away. Like Xavier hinted, I'd gotten caught—only once, but once was enough for me. After that, I'd stuck to working on large canvas'.

   The small bridge gave access for two roads under it, but it was hardly ever used since no one knew of this space. I knew that when I got busted, the cops must have cleaned off my work, since water wouldn't be strong enough to remove the paint from the surface.

   I haven't been back here since I was seventeen years old, but it felt like yesterday when waves of relief left my body with each stroke of paint.

   I didn't waste time as I emptied my gym bag, allowing all the cans of spray paint to roll onto the grass—which was so long that it stopped almost to my knees.

   For the next two hours, my vision blurred from the fast movements originating from my arms. There wasn't an ounce of patience as I dropped to my knees, grabbed another colour and continued working without pause. Time slipped from my hands, I realized when I stepped back, looking at my piece.

   There were shades of black and grey. The picture in front of me was a little girl, her face up close. However, instead of fully seeing her expression, her long black hair blew over her eyes, hiding them from everyone. But beneath some small strands, there was a glistening tear escaping her eye. Her naturally painted lips were in a believable smile, masking her pain.

   The only colour on the painting was her bright red lips, which could easily deceive any person looking over the work.

   I shuddered as I sat on the grass, closing my eyes tightly as my arms shook. It took a few moments to let myself calm down, and when I did, I brought all the cans of spray paint back into my bag before walking away from the broken girl.

   Halfway through my walk, my speed increased when I noticed that I'd have to be at work in thirty minutes, which didn't give me enough time. So, my legs kicked the dirt under me as I moved through the trees. I was boiling, especially being covered by black fabric, but that mindset didn't deter me.

   I was successful because I managed to get to town ten minutes before I had to be in for work. Only, while walking toward the diner, I stopped when I saw Katrina, Liam's younger sister across the street. She was with two other girls, talking and laughing, but right when I was about to continue my walk to the diner, she snapped her eyes in my direction, as if she knew I was standing there.

   It took a few moments for her to recognize me, since my get-up wasn't necessarily screaming, I'm Monica Kelly!

   She grinned widely when she pointed out my identity. She rushed something out to her friends, not waiting for them before she jogged across the street without looking to check if any cars were driving.