Look through my eyes

Chapter 5

The rain is pouring down. The noise of the rain is the only thing that can be heard in the large and lonely house.

The living room furniture, still plasticized, looks gloomy in the lack of light.

I look at my cup turned over on the small glass table.

My eyes, unfocused by the alcohol in my veins, can barely identify my sneakers in the driveway.

I didn't lie to Oli when I said I had things to do at home.

Tiredness was secondary when I saw everything I had set out to do.

Open the rooms I haven't opened, even with so much history ready to devour me. Take the plastic off all the furniture and fill the kitchen with food and other things to make this house feel more like home.

But my feet had walked right into that door, the only one I had allowed myself to open after the guest room.

A door under the kitchen, where an insane collection of bottles rests.

Without recognizing half of them, I grabbed one that had a large percentage of alcohol in it, washing one of the few forgotten cups, I sat on the floor in front of the garden doors, watching the rain wash away all my thoughts.

I adjust the white leg warmers that tend to slip out of my black stockings, making me stumble now and then.

The door in front of me opens, and a guy smiles at me before leaving the door for me to enter.

I want to tell him I won't come in, but I nod before entering.

The smell of paint and clay fills my nostrils.

A small memory of my mother being angry at the sight of all the white furniture filled with paint almost makes me smile.

The hallway is longer than I thought. The art area of the university is one of the most acclaimed, but the waiting list to get in is so long that many give up hope before even trying.

I walk down the hallway, browsing through some classes. Many students are listening to a professor, but others are in their classrooms advancing projects.

I remove my dark glasses from my face and place them on my head, trying to see some of the projects they are doing. I smile at the sight of paintings on canvases bigger than me.

Nostalgia fills my chest at the thought of those huge canvases.

I reach the last room, and it's a miracle no one is there because my body doesn't seem to stop when I see what's inside.

Sculptures.

All shapes—humans, animals and abstract objects.

The sculpture of a guy's face makes me stop. His eyes look in agony, and his mouth barely opens, as if he's complaining about something.

"Is beautiful, isn't it?" I startle as I hear a voice in the distance.

I smile at the sight of her, her red hair is pinned up in a big high ponytail, her cheeks and hands are smudged with dried paint, and her overalls look like they've never seen water.

"I thought I saw you walk by."

Luna approaches me, not looking away from the face in front of me.

"Did you—?"

"Oh, no, I'm more acrylic than structure. "She says, shaking her head. "It's from a guy who's about to graduate. "My smile grows as I nod.

"Are you done already? I can wait for you if you need to change." I say, pointing to her paint-filled shoes.