Paint Me Beautiful

to make it through okay. How sad is that? How sad for me, for Claire Simone.
    “ Don't,” I tell him, drawing his eyes back to mine. He doesn't say anything else and neither do I. He just looks at me, and I know he knows that I can read his thoughts in his face. Emmett lets his dark lashes rest against his cheek for a moment and takes a deep breath. When they open again, he starts to smile, and I smile back. He gets me, really gets me, and one day, if I survive this, maybe I can get him, too.
    We kiss as the sunshine spills through the glassless windows and catches on our faces, lights them up with a golden glow, watches as Emmett slides into me and joins our bodies together. I let my head fall back and wish with a terrible fervency that the hair that brushes against my shoulder blades was red. I close my eyes as Emmett's mouth travels down my throat, teasing and tasting, and in my head, I picture myself the same way as the falling girl in my vision. Bright hair, bright eyes, skin that isn't colored with bruises, breasts that he can touch. I see that girl in my head and she's no longer wearing a Roberto Cavalli gown – she's wearing the dress from my sketch in a brilliant blue, like the sky after a big storm.
    I haven't seen that sky yet. My storm is coming, getting ready to cover up the sun and rain on my parade. Emmett's love isn't enough; my family's love isn't enough. The only thing that would be enough is my love for me, and that, that is the one thing I am still searching for.

 

    When Emmett and I leave the tree house, it looks like a different place. The debris has been cleaned up, the walls wiped, the windows hung with waterproof fabrics that mimic the colors of the forest. There are rugs on the floor and pads on the beds which are now made and topped with small, square pillows. It looks like a totally different place, but it still feels the same – like an escape.
    While I was there, I felt good. I laughed with Emmett and I meant every smile. I even ate half a turkey sandwich and had a small sip of apple juice. I didn't add up the calories either which made me feel like I was making progress.
    And then we got home and Marlena was waiting for us on the porch.
    I see her as soon as we pull into the driveway, sitting on the bench next to the front door. She smiles at me through the windshield, but I frown.
    “ What the hell is she doing here?” I ask Emmett. I am not ready to face my sister. She's too blunt and while her methods do tend to get things done, they don't work with me. I can't be bullied or even rallied into changing. I have to make my own decisions, even if they take me close to the edge. Marlena with her thick skull and heavy hand is not going to get that.
    “ I … don't know,” Emmett says, and he sounds worried. “Maybe she's here to talk about work?” We both know that isn't true.
    When I open the car door and step out, I'm already scowling, ready for a fight. My brain is misfiring again and my mood, while better overall, is still on a roller coaster and as such, is subject to ups and downs. Right now, I'm on top of a loop, ready to rocket down the other side.
    “ What are you doing here?” I ask as I splash through yesterday's puddles and pause on the walkway in front of the porch. Marlena's smile slides right down her face and ends up in a horror stricken gape of epic proportions.
    “ Oh my God, Claire,” she says, slapping her hands over her fat mouth, looking at me with her green eyes flashing in alarm. The hair on the back of my neck stands up as I watch her sweep me from head to toe. There she goes, judging me again. That's one of the things I've liked best about living with Emmett. No matter what I do, no matter how I look or how low I stoop, Emmett doesn't judge me. I hear him come up from behind and then all of a sudden, he's stepping between Marlena and me.
    “ Marlena,” he says, and in his voice lies a warning that she doesn't heed. She looks at him with that ghastly expression on her face and opens and closes her red rouged lips like a fish. I know what she's thinking – that I look horrible, disgusting, putrid, miserable. She's looking at me with the expression that Lianna did. Marlena, with her double chin and her saggy breasts and her stupid, frizzy, fucking hair, is looking at me like I am the worst kind of thing there is, a zombie risen from the grave who dares to walk this earth and be seen. And Emmett, she's looking at him like it's all his fault.
    “