Page 1 of Reckless

Chapter 1

Rose

My mom said I was like a storm.

A little girl with eyes so big and so blue I could soak up the world in a single blink. Spit it back out and paint it anew. The world was black and white she would say, tucking my hair behind my ear. You spill color over all the cracks, covering every inch of the world. Making it your palace. Your kingdom. And in your world, Rose, you're a queen. With a crown made of gold and a heart spun of dreams.

Don’t let anyone tell you you can't paint the world.

That was before everything went to shit.

Now I want to destroy the world. All broken edges and hidden swords, I was far from the little girl she saw me to be. I was a tortured doll stuffed into a plastic world.

A fake. A liar. A coward.

Hiding in my tower waiting for the world to save me. But how can the world save what is already doomed? Art was the only thing my mother got right about me. And right now, it took every ounce of concentration not to break the skin of my palms, my nails biting into my flesh with a fierce sting.

It was wrong.

It was all wrong. Five-year-olds in a finger painting for beginners class could have come up with something more aesthetically pleasing. Hell, even if they named their piece fart, or some other eloquent name equivalent to the intellect of the world's brilliant youth, I bet it still would create a splash to rival the release of Justin Bieber's new album (which for some reason the world was so enraptured with. I, however, thought it was garbage fire).

Biting back a groan of frustration, blue acrylic paint drips between my fingers, staining the already scuffed wooden floor.

I felt dirty.

It was unfinished.

The canvas was empty.

And to make matters worse, it was three pm.

Damn it.

Time was like sand whenever the paints spoke to me. Always slipping through my fingers and shattering on the floor. Leaving a broken, bloody mess behind.

Not to mention, I was drowning. My thoughts colliding all at once and seemingly not at all. My mind was either a storm or a blank wall whenever I painted.

Today was a blank wall day.

I was supposed to have this piece done last week, and still, nothing had come to me. Frustrated, I listen as The Strokes Reptilia vibrated through the walls of my apartment. Soaking into my soul. The volume was cranked so loud it was a miracle my neighbors didn't call the police with a noise complaint.

The music is wonderful when it comes to not thinking. Although after thoroughly drowning in a sea of nothingness for the past hour, I think it's safe to say I’m a firecracker seconds away from ripping the very hair from my tied up blond locks. I hadn’t struggled this much since senior year of high school when I had my senior showcase piece.

My last piece before my world fell apart.

Buzz buzz.

I blinked as my phone went off, the chorus to Nelly's Hot in Here buzzing obnoxiously in my palm. Morise was going to kill me. Most likely after she shoved my job into the hands of another slightly broke, desperate, unemployed freeloader. My replacement would toss out promises of being on time like dreamers tossed coins in public fountains.

Without reasoning, and more importantly, without conscious thought.

Just like I had done when I interviewed for this job three weeks ago. And to both my and Morise’s surprise, she had hired me.

Panicked, I shoved both my palms through the sleeves of my brown oversized jacket. The worn leather giving me a hug as I accidentally smeared the insides blue, and I prayed the job gods have mercy on my soul. Lord knows I need it. Although me and Mom had gotten quite comfy saying Hello to the wonderful eviction notice that liked to play hide and seek with us every few months.

It really spiced up our dull gray apartment door.

Dodging paint jars littered on the floor like glass snowflakes, I quickly glanced at myself in the mirror only to grimace.

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