What happens when a finger painting prodigy hitches a ride from a disfigured biker? Why chaos of course!
Quirky, oddball Georgie is anything but normal. For years she hasn't only suffered from a lack of filter but she also has "episodes." She can't...
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I'm not myself.
Despite getting the best sleep I've had in a long time, when I woke up it was like a new me had been placed in my body.
There was no bubble or weird energy.
The woman who stared at me in the mirror after my furiously hot shower at the hospital was a stranger. Gone were the bags under my eyes, but also my light.
I even had an episode in the shower. I had used the condensation as my ink on the fiber glass wall. When I had finished I couldn't even make out what it was. Water droplets had kept disrupting it.
I'm getting worse... losing control of myself. Before, I was going in a slow gradual fall. But now? I'm rolling and tumbling down a steep hill unable to grab a branch or rock to stop myself.
I feel disconnected from everything... and everyone.
Maybe that's why I can't give dad a proper reaction right now?
My fingers touch the table he has sitting on one wall of the garage that he had transformed into a perfect little art studio for me. The table holds all of my painting supplies and light blue latex gloves and everything is brand new.
He painted all the walls a bright white, apart from the one with the girl behind the wallpaper. I purposely ignore her. Some of my paintings I've done since I've come here, he's hung up on the walls. More lighting has been installed and a huge poster of Bob Ross hangs on the other side of the wall.
I want to laugh and hug him.
To revert back to who I was before, but I don't know if that's possible at this point.
I just feel dull.
The air is thick and humid as I walk around unresponsive and apathetic and it hurts to do this to him. It's like I don't know how to sort through my emotions anymore and I'm shut away in some shell like a turtle too afraid to peak its head out.
My feet pause and my head slowly turns until I'm facing her. That little silhouette. My eyes glide down to the little finger then back up to the faceless shadow.
It's a standoff.
"I'm sorry daddy. I think I'm just tired. I'm going to go upstairs to bed if that's okay."
His hand pets the top of my head. "It's okay baby girl. You've been through a lot. I have to go for a club meeting but Adonis is two houses down."
My dry eyes burn as I give him an awkward hug and slowly make my way to my room. Once I'm locked away from the world a splitting pain shoots through my head and I drop my bag to the floor, hissing through my teeth. I rip off my stupid sling as my butt lands on my bed and I put my head between my legs. I breathe out nice and slow as I take my shoes and socks off. Laying back, I throw my good arm over my eyes to stop the daylight from hurting me as my wrist throbs in a dull ache. The stitches on my face also itch like crazy underneath the bandage on my cheek
