I watch with not much fascination as the foreign country zoomed past my car window. It was like someone drained the colours out of it, so unsaturated and etiolated it made me miss home way more than I had anticipated to. Everything seemed lively there, being the absolute opposite of this tedious place I was going to force myself to call home. Even the people here were as sallow as the country and walked with slumped shoulders.

I look over at my dad who had a broad smile plastered on his face, like we were seeing this city in two contrasting eyes. He looks back at me, his smile never faltering but I don't dare smile back at him, he did not deserve to see an ounce of my happiness ever again. He reaches out to hold my hand but I smack it away, his left eye twitches ever so slightly but that obnoxious smile of his remains glued.

"It's beautiful isn't it?" I look back into the world that needed colour and shake my head. This mans taste clearly needed to be reset, from the woman he chose to sleep with to the country he decides is fit to live in.

"It's eery," and it was, it was like a dark cloud had settled over this place and would remain there for a long while.

"It's not that bad," I close my eyes and bite my jaw at her annoyingly accented high voice, who told her she had an opinion in this?

"We didn't ask for your opinion so please be quiet," I look into her blue eyes which resembled mothers so badly I wanted to claw them out of her face. If someone were to remind me of my mother it was definitely not this whore. She had no right, absolutely no right to have my mothers's perfect blue eyes. The way she smeared that kohl all over her eyes made the blue in her eyes stand out more, begging to remind me that she did in fact have mother's eyes.

"Watch your mouth young lady," I look over at my fathers own eyes, the green of his being the green of mine. The reason I hated my reflection so much. The reason I wanted to claw out my own eyes. He looked so much like me it made me physically hate myself. Why did I have to look like this poor excuse of a man who didn't even have an ounce of sadness after the death of his wife?

I scowl at him and stare back at the unsaturated world. We had suddenly stopped and the huge building that loomed in front of me was probably where I was going to force myself to call home. It was unappealing even though it was way bigger than our small house where we were all happy and filled with content. But now that we've moved to this huge house, a house mother would have probably been way more than happy to call home, a huge dissimilarity had become of our once perfect family. A daughter who resented her father and a mistress she couldn't acknowledge.

A large oak tree was planted next to the crumbling house replacing the old maple and lemon trees we had back home. Its roots were sticking out from the ground and it was planted dangerously way too close to the house. My eyes lingered on the large wooden door that didn't seem very welcoming, beyond that door was my new home, beyond the chipped white painting and the red bricks underneath it was my new home.

I look at a path that led to a forest, couldn't I run? Couldn't I just end this misery and run far away from him and his mistress? I looked at him, at his wide smile and a vanishing part of me reminded me that he was once a good man and that maybe there was still part of the man I adored under the layers I had come to loathe wholeheartedly. So I dragged my luggage towards the rusted iron gate and prepared myself to give him another chance, not to forgive him but to not let him endure double loss. No matter how much I hated him, I did not like picturing him in pain. He was my dad after all and before two weeks ago he was the man I loved with my whole heart.

An ashen-faced old man limped towards me and reached out to hold my luggage and with too much effort and a grip that probably finished all the remnants of energy he had within him, started dragging my luggage to the wooden doors. He was a few steps ahead of me because I stood there dumbfounded, he was obviously too ill to be working yet here he was dragging my not so heavy luggage with his veiny hands. He was threatening to collapse, so I walk towards him and gently remove his shaky hands from my luggage. I examine them a little but with more energy than I expected to come from him he manages to pull them away from me and place them behind his hunchback.

"You shouldn't be working," I take in his uniform, blue, just like the hat that lay atop his neatly cut white hair. He looks at me with his big yellow droopy eyes that were enough to tell how tired he was and manages to smile weakly.

"Im fine ma'am, please let me help you," his eyes avert towards my dads and he quickly places his hand on top of my luggage again. I look at my dad who was standing as stiff as a post with hands behind his back examining the puny old man who was struggling to yank away the luggage from my grip.

"No, go rest," I gently take it away from him and walk with a fast pace so he couldn't catch up.

"Please ma'am, I beg you... please, please don't do this to me ma'am," I look back at him with a look of concern. I was doing this because he wasn't able to carry my luggage without eventually collapsing, why was he pleading to me like I had just taken his rights away?

"No please go rest," his head drops down and he slowly nods. I smile, finally. He seems like he likes working a lot because why else would he look so sad? I wanted to ask him what was wrong but dad, with slow calculated steps walks towards the old man and places a hand on his shoulder, the old man vividly flinches. I frown at the interaction but my dad smiles at me, "Im excusing him, he clearly needs to rest, poor Julius loves overworking himself," sighing in relief a sort of weight full of concern seemed to be ridden off of me, at least dad also saw how tired Julius was. I smile back at him somewhat glad that I hadn't completely lost him and was still the caring man I always looked up to and proceed to walk towards the unwelcoming wooden doors. A flickering light of hope that my dad was still in there igniting within me.

I push against the wooden doors and instantly squint at the dazzling purple sunlight from the windows on the opposite side of the room that were concealed with flimsy purple curtains. The whole room was cast with a warm purple afternoon glow that I somewhat found beautiful. My eyes move around the huge room, five sofa's in a circular arrangement around a small square coffee table, a large dining table that could fit ten people beside a small door that probably led to the kitchen, a staircase that led to the first floor and walls full of paintings that reminded me of mine and Mom's paintings in our old home. Mom would have definitely loved this house. It was beautiful to be fair, the interior more spacious than I had prejudiced.

I drag my luggage to the stairs and ascend to the first floor. The floor was just a large hallway full of wooden doors and more windows irradiating purple sunlight. My eyes land on what I was searching for, a tiny cramped spiralling staircase at the end of the hallway leading to the last floor. I decide to settle there, away from my dad and his mistress and everyone else. Their presence infuriated me so much that I myself was shocked that I withheld so much hate in my tiny heart... hate that mom wouldn't have liked me to possess.

"Hate is a dangerous thing, a witch, never let it drive you, never ever make decisions because of hatred."

I trace my fingers along the boring paintings on the wall, as dull and banal as the country itself. My artistic side kicks in and I instinctively decide that I shall replace every boring painting in this house with one of my own and make my own little enlivened world enclosed from the etiolated world outside. If I could I'd swoosh my paint brush over the whole country to give it some colour and life.

There was only one room on the spacious second floor, just that one room and a lot of empty space outside the wooden door, just for me to do everything my heart desires. I walked to the wooden door and pushed it open, red sunlight oozing from the singular large window that overlooked the garden. I walked to the red curtains and pushed them aside. The oak trees humongous branch had settled right beneath the window, inviting me to run away into the forest that lay next to the two storey house.

My dad was still outside talking to someone who was in a similar attire as the old man I had encountered earlier but from his too upright stance and a golden tan, I was certain he wasn't the sallow old man. I looked around the room, a small wooden bed right next to an oval shaped window and a dusty bookshelf without any books and that was about it. There was no toilet in sight meaning I would have to go out of my room in the middle of the night to attend to my duties. I groaned, that means I couldn't lock myself in my room all day as I had anticipated I would. I'd still have to encounter that poor excuse of a man and that air headed mistress.

I looked back outside and my breath caught in my throat as the tan young man was now directly staring  up at me. I couldn't decipher much of his appearance from up here but he probably had one of the sharpest jawlines I had ever seen from two storeys up. He tilted his head at me and I copied his action but then he suddenly stood upright and with the speed of Dracula zoomed away from my sight.

Strange. This whole place and its people were strange.

I plopped onto the bed and sighed up at the ceiling. This was my new home, I'd have to learn to accept it one way or another. My eyes suddenly felt heavy and before I knew it I was drifting into slumber. I could swear I heard my mom singing her sweet lullaby.