The Beginning
Her footsteps became closer as she ran across the street and glanced back at her house that was not so quiet this early in the morning. Another fight between the parents and the only way to escape was to go to school. Olivya brought her coat closer to her as her breath became visible in the air and the frost was fresh on the grass. School wasn’t far, just a few miles and she was used to this walk since she never wanted to wait for the bus. She could feel a presence near her and her pace began to quicken. The thoughts about the murders lingered in her mind every morning and evening she walked by herself. She always thought she was their next target.
Relief came over her as the school parking lot was in sight and she quickly made her way across it. Her eyes darted every direction, looking for any students that might be there or any teachers for that matter. What time did she leave? Her wrists were bare which meant she left her watch at home and she still saw no one in sight. The sun was very low for it to even be seven. She peered through the windows at the only visible light coming from the principal’s office and pulled out her cell phone. This had happen to her a lot and she had gotten to know their principal very well.
“Uhmmm, Mr. Harden. Its Olivya Beralise and I left my house a little earlier than I thought.” She paused as she listened to the older man speak, “Oh, thank you!”
A few minutes later a gray haired man walked to the door and unlocked it, motioning her inside the building. She thanked him as much as she could until he told her to run along to the painter’s room. Once in her sanctuary, she could block out all reality and paint her dreams or even nightmares. Whatever is on her mind at that point would appear in the painting. She began to mix colors together to get bright, vibrant colors that symbolize anger or fury. As she splashed colors onto the blank sheet of paper, figures began to in the background and she knew they were coming from the fight she witnessed between her parents.
Her thoughts were completely disoriented when a few students walked in and watched her talent from afar. By the time her teacher walked in, she was covered in reds and oranges so she excused herself from the class and ran to the bathroom. Her painting was completely finished in one hour which would be a record for her. She leaned against the bathroom stalls, holding back the tears from the emotions building up inside her and once she gained her complexion again, she left. The bell rang for second period as the halls crowded with students and then emptied quickly as the tardy bell rang a minute later. She was in no rush, she hated her next class; Gym. Does she need to say more? She ambled toward the gym, unwilling and dreading the hour long class
Her footsteps became closer as she ran across the street and glanced back at her house that was not so quiet this early in the morning. Another fight between the parents and the only way to escape was to go to school. Olivya brought her coat closer to her as her breath became visible in the air and the frost was fresh on the grass. School wasn’t far, just a few miles and she was used to this walk since she never wanted to wait for the bus. She could feel a presence near her and her pace began to quicken. The thoughts about the murders lingered in her mind every morning and evening she walked by herself. She always thought she was their next target.
Relief came over her as the school parking lot was in sight and she quickly made her way across it. Her eyes darted every direction, looking for any students that might be there or any teachers for that matter. What time did she leave? Her wrists were bare which meant she left her watch at home and she still saw no one in sight. The sun was very low for it to even be seven. She peered through the windows at the only visible light coming from the principal’s office and pulled out her cell phone. This had happen to her a lot and she had gotten to know their principal very well.
“Uhmmm, Mr. Harden. Its Olivya Beralise and I left my house a little earlier than I thought.” She paused as she listened to the older man speak, “Oh, thank you!”
A few minutes later a gray haired man walked to the door and unlocked it, motioning her inside the building. She thanked him as much as she could until he told her to run along to the painter’s room. Once in her sanctuary, she could block out all reality and paint her dreams or even nightmares. Whatever is on her mind at that point would appear in the painting. She began to mix colors together to get bright, vibrant colors that symbolize anger or fury. As she splashed colors onto the blank sheet of paper, figures began to in the background and she knew they were coming from the fight she witnessed between her parents.
Her thoughts were completely disoriented when a few students walked in and watched her talent from afar. By the time her teacher walked in, she was covered in reds and oranges so she excused herself from the class and ran to the bathroom. Her painting was completely finished in one hour which would be a record for her. She leaned against the bathroom stalls, holding back the tears from the emotions building up inside her and once she gained her complexion again, she left. The bell rang for second period as the halls crowded with students and then emptied quickly as the tardy bell rang a minute later. She was in no rush, she hated her next class; Gym. Does she need to say more? She ambled toward the gym, unwilling and dreading the hour long class