Chapter 21 (Aliyana)


    6 years ago


    The brush in my hand is like a wand, it takes me to ces, filled with color and spaces that are far


    away from here. A ce I can create with a dip of color and a glide of my hand.


    Usually, my ces of choice are twisted. The hells of my mind, finally leaving its confines. This one is


    different.


    Property ? of N?velDrama.Org.


    There is no murder, death, betrayal, or heartache in this project. This beauty is not about the darkness


    that lingers in my head but by the mind''s ability to keep it at bay. Magic


    Magic is potent, and all that I desire shalle true. In this painting, a happy ending cane in the


    form of what I decide. I am the creator now, and I am free to create the end I choose. I have a choice


    as I paint my creation into life.


    If only my reality bore simrities to this art piece.


    “Why do you spend so much time here? It is so dusty. Icky. Have you thought about painting in the


    garden like a normal painter?” The female voice whines from the chair in front of me as I dip my brush


    in the yellow and brown pallet wobbling on the old wooden stool next to my board.


    “Why do you insist on following me when I want to be left alone?” She’s like a pesticide that won''t go


    away.


    “I have my reasons. I saw your sisterst week. She was in Seattle, what''s her name? She isn’t very


    friendly.”


    I press my lips together as I focus on the trees I am currently filling. I know all about my sisters not so


    friendly demeanor. And it has nothing to do with the brown-haired Barbie sitting in the old wooden chair


    in the center of the attic, disturbing my peace.


    “Guilia.”


    She is quiet after I answer, and I get to lose myself in my work, finishing the forest. I start with the eyes


    of the wolves. My attention to detail is not where I want it to be. Mrs. Lana said it wille in time. Now


    I am just finding my style.


    The colors I have used are dark, and the yellow from the leaves is a bit too light. I am going to have to


    change it once I am done with the wolves.


    “You don''t talk very often, do you?” I jump at the sound of her voice right behind me, and my paintbrush


    goes across the canvas ruining theke. I''ve spent a week perfecting.


    “What the hell is your problem, Elisa? Why are you even here? Your house is next door, not here. I


    don''t even like you. I would think considering the excellent grades you are constantly bragging about,


    you''d have figured it out by now,” I snap at her.


    Those big light brown eyes of hers widen at my outburst.


    I usually keep my temper in check. But this girl is making it really hard since she came homest week.


    My school is closing only on Friday, and ordinarily, like her, I returned home before thest day, but Ren


    and Gabriel have a big game tomorrow, and I want to stay. Why she thought to follow me up here in an


    antic filled with junk and dust, I have no idea.


    I stare at her when she remains standing there, looking at me. Her hair is brown and curly, she is


    gorgeous and a pure Italian princess. We are so different, I don''t understand her desire to spend time


    with me. I like my space, she craves attention.


    “My cousins aren''t very nice to you, are they?” I frown at the question that isn''t really a question. It is a


    fact.


    The Russo boys weren''t exactly familiar with the word ‘nice.''


    Turning to my ruined canvas, I say nothing as I survey the damage, seeing it isn''t as bad as I thought.


    It will take me a few hours to fix but nothing major.


    “Sorry, I frightened you.” There it is again, she is so nice, and it makes me seem like a horrible person


    because I am not ''nice.'' I am my father’s daughter, there is nothing warm about me besides the blood


    in my veins.


    Even my hands remain cold throughout the year.


    “It''s okay.” I should apologize, but I will never say sorry to a Russo, no matter how big her smile is.


    She nods her head as if understanding something I have no clue about and walks back to her chair,


    sitting down. Her light perfume hits my nose for a hundred time since she decided to cramp my style.


    She is the only clean ‘piece’ in the room. I wonder again the reason she is choosing to sit with me here.


    I know it isn’t for my chirpy personality. I have zero to none.


    I’ve been saving my happy go lucky charm for the days I''d have to start ‘Adulting''. Papa says smiling is


    a chore at times, and I understand what he means.


    The attic is filled with boxes. I am confident there are rats in here as well as other living creatures. I''ve


    seen and heard a few on a number of asions. Elisa Russo does not strike me for the tomboy rat


    chasing kind.


    She’s the more dolls and dress-up type of girl who goes to the toy store on weekends to purchase new


    Barbie clothes.


    Not saying I am the rat chasing type, or the doll type either. The attic, however, doesn’t faze me, nor do


    the creatures living in it. The spider’s webs and the dusty furniture and boxes made the ce creepy at


    night, but nothing about it has sent me running out of here.


    It’s the one ce I found in this house where I could paint and not worry about being disturbed. Well,


    ‘didn''t’ worry being the operative word as now I’ve been troubled by a living Barbie doll.


    The door opens, and I re at another intruder. Sheesh, can''t a girl get a break?