The girl behind her smile

- 19 -

ELIZA

"Hey, Izzy." I feel Ezra shaking me awake, "I've called the school to let you get the week off, I've requested for you to have work set online instead, it is optional but I didn't want you to be too far behind."

I smile groggily and nod my head. 

"Oh and when I come back, I need you to be ready."

"Ready?" I mumble, my eyes still partially closed.

"Yes, we're going for a run." He announces, his voice not letting any room for objection.

"Run?" I ask, definitely more awake.

"Yes, you've been lethargic for the past week, it's time to get you more active." He kisses my forehead before heading out to leave - not letting me question his decision.

He was right.

If I wanted to get better, I had to start making changes. And this time I had support. I wasn't hungry, but I willed myself to eat something small anyway, it was a tiny step, but a step nonetheless. 

Whilst I ate the apple in my hand, my eyes brush past the black book that sat on my desk. It had been there since the night of Christmas - left untouched.

"Izzy," Elijah shuffles to me, handing me a wrapped box, "I got you something as well."

"You know, if you didn't I would have hunted you down and pestered you until you did." I grin, eager to open the present.

The wrapping paper falls of leaving in my hands a brown box. Upon opening it, my eyes fall on a sketchbook, with various materials, watercolours and prisma colouring pencils. I look up to Eli, his face holding a nervous smile.

"I know you haven't touched a canvas since summer. I wanted you to try getting back into what you loved the most. So I thought a sketch book was small enough tot get you started, you can draw anything and not have to worry about filling the page... I hope you like it."

I sight before replying, once again looking down at the art supplies, "How did you know I threw my old stuff away?"

"I found them in the bin, but I knew bringing it back wasn't the best idea - you have lots of negative memories attached to them," I look up, "So I want you to start fresh."

I nod at him, "Thank you. I-I'll try and get started."

I know I had avoided it for a while, but now I was bored and didn't want to start school work. So I placed myself on my wooden chair, and I stare at the blank page, willing myself to conjure up something- somewhere for me to start.

I hadn't touched my artwork since the night dad had died. I left it at my desk for a long time, until my anger had gotten the best of me and in rage I threw all of my materials out. Making sure to add waste on top to ensure it was destroyed. My art was my fathers favourite thing about me, he was always praising me saying how my art gave him an infinite amount of happiness. And it was those small gestures of encouragement that got the ball rolling with my life in art.

I take my bush and add colour to the paper.

But when he left, my art became a horrible reminder. I despised its presence on my desk, so I shoved everything in my bottom drawers.

The colours swirl and mix and blend until it is impossible to isolate a single shade in one area.

Even still, knowing they were there, still in my room, made me more resentful. Eventually, I snapped and took the initiative to destroy it.