Vita Mia: My life
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She has never wanted to take any part in the mafia world that her abusive and manipulative parents control. All she wants is to be free of them. All she wants is to be free of her trauma th...
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"I'll wait for you. Like the sand waits for the sea."
Arabella Karve I focus intensely as I guide my fine rounded paintbrush smoothly across the vast canvas, that is smothered in soft, beaming colors which slowly make the image drift to life.
Pastel blue steadily stains the top of the canvas, right above the majestically painted swans that are floating upon the still water.
Vivid yellow drips softly from the depicted sun, that is casting an embellished reflection onto the calm lake.
I mix more oil into my fine paint as I portray the setting of lush mountains covering the magical background, with black and blue birds flying gently into the distance.
I take a deep breath as I carefully paint my signature on the bottom right corner.
Painting makes me so happy.
I lower my tired hand and take a slow step back and immediately a proud grin breaks out across my flushed face, as I stare at the painting that I have casted every last fragment of my soul into. Maybe a little dramatic.
I pompously turn around with my hands, that are caked in dry paint, on my hips and look towards my professor who is standing behind me, analyzing my work.
"Arabella, this is lovely. I am very pleased with your performance" Mrs. Smith says while placing one of her thin hands upon my cold shoulder.
"I try" I say with a smile.
She purses her lips proudly at me and then promptly walks away. The moment she moves I am met with Eros who was sitting on my stool directly behind her. Of course.
He glances up at me with a disinterested expression as a scowl spreads across my, once grinning, face.
I study how his flawlessly dark appearance, strikingly contrasts with the vibrant colors of the eclectic painting room, that feels more like home to me then anywhere else.
"Hm. It's fine" Are the first words he says as his numb eyes scan the elegant painting. Fucking dick.
"Please do remind me when I asked for your opinion." I say coarsely as I smoothly pull off my thin black apron.
"per essere una brava artista, sei una rottura di palle, Bella" he mumbles angrily while glaring at me.
I roll my eyes at his never ending attitude, as I place my painting gently onto the broad drying rack, that is crusted in old paint.
