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Red paint. (A short story)

Started by Jordyn
(2013-06-02 17:21:00)

Jordyn (2013-06-02 17:21:00)

She ran into her room once again. She was in tears. Her mom and her fought again. The only thing she had left to do was paint. Painting took the pain away. She always painted a picture with red paint. It was the only color she had. She didn't really like to paint. It became a habit; she couldn't stop.
~
Her alarm went off; 6:15 am. She struggled to get up that morning. She wanted to paint again. She got ready for school and waited for the time to go catch the bus. When it was time, she got up from the comfortable couch, and walked to her bus-stop. As she was walking, the bus was already there. All the kids that were on the bus stared at her through the windows. She hated that. She slowly walked towards the bus, wondering how she looked in their perspective, since there was so much to stare at. She felt like a fool, making them wait for her. When she got onto the bus, she sat with her friend and talked the whole way there. She wondered if her friend paints, too. When they arrived at the school, She would sigh. She didn't want to be there.
~
School was finally over. But this time, she didn't want to go home. She wanted to stay away from the paintbrush. She would walk to her bus, with her head down. "Please don't paint today", she told herself, over and over. When she walked on the bus, She smiled. Her friend was there, waving and calling her name. That made her happy. On the bus ride home, she had a good time so far, Relieved it was friday. After awhile, she stopped having a good time. She saw a jerk teasing and picking on someone. She couldn't bear it any longer. She stood up for that person, but got harsh words back. Now, she really wanted to paint. Soon, it was her bus-stop. She said goodbye to her friends and ran to her house. She had to do chores, but she didn't feel like doing them. She wanted to paint. She ran into her room, and painted. She painted longer than she did yesterday. She cried, But noone seemed to hear her, noone seemed to care.
~
Saterday morning. She didn't want to get out of bed. She wanted to sleep all day. Hours and hours went by, and she was still in bed, with her pillow pressed on her face. Her door opened, and her eyes widened. "Come out of your room for once", her mother would call. The door slammed shut. She decided to get up, she was hungry afterall. After many countless hours of staying with her family, it happened again. She had another fight with her mother and step-father. They used harsh words this time. She once again, ran into her room and painted; longer than the last time. She cried as she painted with her fresh red paint and small paint brush. She wanted to stop, but she couldn't.
~
Sunday morning. She was in tears when she woke. "Maybe i'm just tired". She thought that she should visit her father for once. She would go months without seeing his face. Something in her head told her no, he doesn't want you anymore. She reached for her paintbrush. Surprised with herself, she didn't take it. She stopped herself from painting.
~
Her mother had to leave for the gym that night. She was left with her step-dad, and younger brother. She felt lonely and upset, So she came out of her room. On the couch was her step-dad, watching the television. She joined him. They started to talk and joke around with eachother. She finally started to feel comfortable around him. She gave him a hug. She needed one anyways. But, he ruined it again. He touched her, and forced her on him. She fell on the floor and ran in her room. She cried. She tried to stay away from the paint brush, but she couldn't. This time, the picture was redder than before. She painted more than she ever did. She couldn't stop.
~
It was midnight. She had woken up from a bad dream again. Suddenly, she heard voices in her head. They told her to paint a bigger picture. Bigger than she could ever imagine. She did as they said. She got a bigger paint brush this time, and painted. She cried and cried. "Why am i doing this?". She painted and painted. Red paint was everywhere. Her face began to turn pale. Her eyes then slowly closed. She fell to the floor. She was dead.

This post has been edited one or more times, the last time was:
2013-06-03 00:22:36

MeNobody14 (2013-06-02 17:42:12)

"No-one." or "No one.", but never "Noone".

My opinion:

Red paint? Or blood? The latter would make more sense, since she dies in the end. I read this thinking: "Emo crap." But then I thought of my habits when I get nervous or agitated.

Conclusion:

Nice story.