This chapter is dedicated to Jessabellx for the gorgeous cover that I used in the begining before I figured out how to make my own covers. It's on the sidebar so definitly go take a look! She's an awesome writer so check out her stuff. (The Girl Who Sold Herself On Ebay is one of her great ones) :)
STOP RIGHT THERE. Now, just because this story is completed doesn't mean I don't need anymore feedback. Please give me some, it's lovely! It's great to see you stumbled across my new story. After I wrote this chapter I came across this song called Lack of Color by Death Cab For Cutie. The lyrics fit this storyline so if you want to give it a listen, it's good. Thats what this chapter is named after :)
I put A LOT of references to the lack of color in Quinn's life here, but it's not ALWAYS like that through the story. This chapter just really focuses on that feeling for her.
Now read on! I'll love you if you do c:
And don't forget to comment, either.
NOTE: If you feel like you are struggling with depression, it can get better! Talk to someone about your feelings and most importantly you need to remember that it isn't your fault for feeling that way.
thank you!
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Prologue
I look around myself, and all I see is gray.
Okay, maybe that sounds a bit dramatic, but that sure is a great way for me to describe it…
When I looked around myself, everything is gray, different tints and shades. I find myself not caring anymore, about anything... and I didn’t even realize until just recently.
I wake up.
I go to school.
I come home.
Then I sleep.
Repeat… It all repeats. Nothing changes. Sometimes maybe something different will happen, but I don’t feel it. I don’t even process it.
But on those lucky occasions… splashes of color occur. I never know when to expect them, but they sure do come, and when they do come, I’m alive and I feel happy. My gray world isn’t gray anymore. It’s bright and full of color.
But honesty, these splashes of color never, ever last.
Chapter 1
Lack of Color
I was sitting in Art Fundamentals like every other day, when someone finally noticed…
I was tapping my pencil and staring out the window, bored, as my teacher enlightened the class on our new assignment. Ms. Berry walked in front of the white board and set a canvas on its ledge for the class to see. She had painted a picture of what looked like someone’s backyard. A swing set and sandbox sat in the middle of the yard, with forestry just surrounding its edges. Play buckets and shovels were scattered around in the sandbox and sitting on a swing was an old-looking teddy bear. It was painted in only dark colors, deep blues and greens.
“You will all be painting scenery, but I want you to incorporate feeling into it! I want you to draw out an important place to you; it could be inside or out. So you have a homework assignment.” The whole class started grumbling, irritated. The teacher rolled her eyes and ignored them. “I want you to all bring in your drawings tomorrow, on these canvases, of your scenery.”
The teacher glared at the class as everyone erupted in whispered complaints. They eventually died down when they saw her ‘No Nonsense’ look was on.
“When you look at this picture, what do you feel?” she asked the class.
“Like shooting myself,” one of the guys in the back mumbled sarcastically.
“Horny,” one said a bit louder, causing a few boys to snicker.
When no one answered and we all sat and gave her blank looks, she sighed, answering her own question.
“Looking at this, you might get a sense of adventure and maybe a little nostalgic about being eight again. Of course, everyone feels differently.”
One of my classmates raised his hand. She called on him and he let his excuse slide.
“Can’t we have this assigned Wednesday instead? There’s a game tonight, and everyone will be there. I won’t have time for this because I have practice right after school!”
Ms. Berry shook her head, “Collin, I’m sure you can figure something out. This should only take an hour of your day… just a rough outline on one of the canvases.”
Ten more minutes went by of complaints. People were angry because we had to carry the canvases home, and they were so big. People claimed to not have time tonight because of the game. Some even said that they needed more time to think this project through better.
Finally Ms. Berry snapped, “Fine! I would prefer you draw it tonight, but if you do not have the time, I will accept a printed picture of your scenery that you can start drawing in class instead tomorrow by copying it from the picture.”
More excuses flourished, but Ms. Berry didn’t budge any further. She made the class quiet down again and continued, “I’ll give you guys the last five minutes of class to brainstorm and chat.”
She walked back behind her desk. I think the real reason we had time to ‘brain storm’ was so that she had the time to text her boyfriend. By the glowing smirk on her face as she hid her phone under her desk to text, I could tell I was right.
Ms. Berry was in her 20’s and I could tell this was her first teaching job. She used to be a huge push over until two weeks ago, when one of the students had pulled a prank on her. He ‘accidently’ spilt a bucket of paint all over her new mini skirt (what was a teacher doing wearing a mini skirt anyways?). That was when we had pushed her too far. Now she is probably one of the strictest teachers in the whole building.
Despite that, I actually really like her. I could tell that she’s a very deep person and can read people like they’re books. It seems like she understands me too well, even though no one else does. Whenever we had a chat about the project, it was as if she could see right through me and could tell I wasn’t having a good day.
That I’m never having a good day.
I watched her texting and sighed deeply, if only I had that; someone that you care about deeply enough to tell everything to.
I surveyed the classroom and saw that everyone was talking, and I instead daydreamed while I stared out the window. I pulled out my IPod and plugged the headphones in, muting the noise around me. I started jamming to my music. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the lyrics that were ringing through my head and took in a deep breath. After my favorite instrumentals came up and my favorite lyrics rang loudly, I opened my eyes and smiled.
My heart was full and I felt alive again, happy. As I listened to an angel’s voice singing in my ears, I surveyed the room again, and instead everything looked okay again, alive and bright.
But once my favorite part in the song ended, so did that feeling, and everything started to fade back to gray.
Too soon, everything was gray and numb again.
That’s how easy the feeling comes and goes, before I’m drowned in a tidal wave of sorrow.
The bell rang and I jumped up, stuffing my IPod back into my bag again. I started to follow my classmates out the door, but I didn’t make it.
“Quinn!” Ms. Berry’s voice rang loud across the room and I jumped.
I’m not used to having anyone notice me, teachers included. I was the kid in the class that no one noticed was in the room until halfway through the year. Halfway through the year, I’m the one that they stare at while they ask they’re friends- “Do you remember her?” Then the friend would look and stare at me too. She would turn back to her friend and say- “Yeah, stupid. She’s been here all year!” Then the two would giggle and shush each other when they realized I could hear them.
Even teachers don’t really think of calling on me. While some teachers would do those surprise-attacks, where they call on students that they think isn’t paying attention, it never even occurs to them to do that to me. So it was definitely weird to be stopped after class when I sure couldn’t think of a reason why.
I stopped midstride and turned to look at her questioningly. The students pushed past me, not giving me any notice as they escaped school so they could go home. Ms. Berry motioned for me to come over to her and I did, setting my blank canvas on one of the art tables.
“Is there a problem Ms. Berry?” I asked her once I reached her.
She gave me a caring look and asked me something that no one has asked me in a long time. “Are you okay?”
My world felt narrowed down to this moment. My ears got a bit fuzzy and my heart tightened in my chest. Everything turned a darker shade of gray as my eyes started to prick.
No. I am not going to cry.
I can’t cry. Not here.
But my heart started to tug and I couldn’t help it; the tears slid down my face. I tried covering my face with my hair and turning away so she couldn’t see.
“I’m fine,” I said, but my voice cracked obviously. Oh gosh, she’s going to know I’m crying. “I need to get home, Ms. Berry.”
But she reached for my arm and turned me around. We were looking at each other now, and she was surprised when she saw my eyes.
“Quinn, I can see you’re not alright,” she said.
I looked down at my feet and shrugged. “I don’t know why I wouldn’t be.”
“You seem out of it every day. If you need to talk about something you can always come to me, you know that, right? Are you going through hard times right now?”
I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders.
“Can I leave now?”
Ms. Berry nodded uncertainly. I left, grabbing my canvas on my way out. I didn’t bother to look back; I knew that she was watching me go and debating what to do next.
***
I don’t know why I started crying, really. But once I started, it didn’t take long for me to realize it was hard to stop. I had to keep my face ducked on my way to my car, and once I got in I slammed my door in haste. I crumpled in my seat, putting my head in my hands as I finally let the tears slide down my cheeks. I tried to get them to stop, but they wouldn’t. I had to sit there for about forty five minutes before I could put my keys in the ignition and start the car.
I didn’t know then that that was only the beginning of getting help. I didn’t know that the whole scenario was actually good.