a/n: i actually like this chapter wow im shook

. . .

Everly Clark

GABRIEL AND I have been hanging out a lot this week. He usually was the one doing all the talking, but the conversations were never about him. He likes to crack a couple jokes here and there, so I force a smile but he sees right through it.

He likes watching me paint. He also likes to take pictures of me painting, my paintings, or just the view outside my house. Gathering the little strength I had left, I had invited him over to my house a couple times.

I was good. Yeah, I was good. Three days and no tears, sure he never leaves my mind but I haven't cried and my artwork is selling way better.

"So you're telling me that this painting was drawn in fifth grade?" Gabriel asks in disbelief, his bright blue eyes glancing from my painting back to me.

I looked at the painting, it was just a simple rose. Nothing too big, nothing too small.

"Uh, yeah," I replied, looking at the ground shyly. He scoffed and pushed himself off the counter.

"You are such a show-off when I was in fifth grade, I was still drawing stick figures! In fact, that's still how I draw!" he exclaimed, rolling his eyes playfully.

I bit my lip, a small smile threatening to escape my lips. I think he noticed because his eyes lit up with joy and he grinned at me. I slowly looked up into his eyes, my cheeks now rosy with color. I felt exposed and vulnerable as both of us stared at each other. I looked away quickly, my heart beating too fast for me to think anything.

He cleared his throat, "So uh, I know a dude who knows another dude, and there is this huge art auction thing where you could earn a gazillion bucks because its full of rich people," he paused awkwardly, "So uh I think you should enter."

I blinked at him, a little shocked before answering, "Um, that sounds interesting,"

He looked relieved, "Oh yeah, here's a little brochure,"

I took the brochure from his hand and examined it carefully. Light Art Walk, come to the Light Art Walk this Saturday at six pm to examine and buy the works of many talented artists!

I pursed my lips, these past few days I have been focusing on my career more than anything. This was how I was going to deal with everything, painting my sorrows away.

"Sure why not," I said, shrugging slightly. He looked surprised but then nodded happily.

"Great, uh that's great," he smiled happily, "Which painting do you want to enter?"

I bit my lip, "I have an idea for one,"

. . .

My hand didn't stop moving, it moved on its own on my canvas. With each stroke, I painted out every emotion I had been feeling for nine years. Each memory playing over and over like a broken record, except the fact that it wasn't the record that was broken.

I dipped it in red, the color of passion. I gently dipped the tip of my brush into the paint, watching the bristles cover themselves.

How could people let go and forget so easily? Move on, be happy? Why was it so difficult for me, what is wrong with me? It wasn't the goodbyes that hurt, but the flashbacks that haunted me every night.

I glided the brush across, the paint kissing the canvas. Slow, yet long strokes filling the paper with emotions only one could see.

Love. Ricky glanced at me mischievously before picking me up bridal style, walking quickly.

"Ricky! What the hell put me down!" I shrieked, not being able to contain my giggles.

"Shh," he laughed too, "Just close your eyes, just relax Ev."

"I got you," he whispered ever so quietly.

Yellow, the color of optimism, fresh energy. The paint caressed the canvas, uplifting the mood of my painting.

Happiness. I watched in utter horror at my chemistry test, looking at the massive red marks over it.

"My life is over," I whispered frantically, clutching the test as hard as I could.

"Hey, hey calm down baby," Ricky muttered, putting his hand over mine.

"Calm down? I can't calm down!" I yelled in frustration, tossing my test in the air, "There goes my GPA!"

"Everly, yelling like a mad woman won't solve anything. How about I tutor you every night?" he asked patiently.

I released a breath, "Really?"

"Duh, you dork," he smiled goofily, poking my cheek gently.

I smiled at him, shaking my head slightly.

Next was orange, the color of encouragement. I swirled the brush in the paint, the bristles dancing.

Family. I grinned as I saw both my parents clapping as loud as they could as soon as they heard my name over the intercom.

"This next painting was made by sixteen-year-old Everly Clark, it's a magnificent piece that shows emotions in no other way,"

"Yes, that's my daughter's painting!" Dad shouted loudly, looking around the room. He whooped loudly, making a couple people laugh.

I blushed from the stage, waving slightly.

Blue. The color of trust and loyalty. I made sure to show this color the most, loving the way it stood out like a bright star.

Trust. I felt a mixture of fear and excitement rushing through my veins as we stood at the very edge of the cliff. I could hear the faint sound of waves crashing against the rocks.

I looked at Ricky with wide eyes, "R-Ricky I can't,"

"Do you trust me?" was all he asked, holding out his hand. The wind flew past us, making my dress float behind me and his unbuttoned shirt fly up.

I nodded slowly, "Yes,"

I untied the strings in the back of my dress, making it fall onto the ground. He took off his shirt, looking intensely into my eyes. 

And together, we fell.

Black. The color used to describe negativity and mystery.

Pain. Scottie closed my door, locking it. He walked over to my shivering body, ignoring my threats and useless screams.

He took off his pants in an instant, my punches and kicks worthless. I screamed and screamed, but no one could hear me.

He smirked watching a single tear slid down my flushed cheeks, gazing over my bare body.

I dropped my paintbrush, my hands and knees shaking. My heart clenched as if someone were squeezing it tightly. I let out a small whimper, closing my eyes tightly in response.

It hurts. Oh God, it hurts so much. Please make it stop, please.

"It's just a flashback, just a flashback, just a flashback," I whispered, chanting the words quietly over and over like a mantra.

"Just a flashback," I said, "It's the past, all in the past."

I always knew that one day when I would look back at the countless times I started to cry for no reason and laugh, but I never thought that the memories of me laughing would bring me tears.

I picked up the paintbrush, then realized that I was finished. I gulped and looked at my painting in astonishment and shock. It was a beautiful tragedy of a painting.

I instantly knew who the couple in the painting was. The painting screamed in despair, with a touch of love. Exactly, like my last relationship.

I was so going to use this painting.

. . .

a/n: yo i am crying in the club right now. i absolutely love writing about her past, it brings back so many memories.

anywho, schools almost over but no one is counting. (19 days!!)

what was your favorite/least favorite part of this chapter?

toodles mc doodles!

xoxo,