September 18th, idk what year apple wasn't awake to help me.

Adelaide Grayson, Aged 27.

Adelaide painted for comfort. To keep herself sane. She painted out of necessity.

For everyone she was important to. She now had a young son named markus, and he was a little purple haired demon.

But she loved him.

She loved to paint purple things.

Loved to pain her siblings and her son and everyone else around her, but in colors.

She was quite talented, but no-one actually noticed the dark undertones in her work, except for her.

Nobody truly understood her.

She was used to it though, it was okay.

She just painted over the tears.

Over the pain.

Over the grief.

Over the mourning.

Over the anger.

Over the tears.

It was what Adelaide did best.

She painted.