The world is your canvas, paint it how you want.

Scribble, scribble.
Brush, brush.
Paint, draw; draw, paint.
Night to day, day to night.

She is the girl, the one standing in the plaza, with the canvas and she is always painting. She must love to paint, one would think. They walk past her, without a worry and without a care, some give her a glace and a few gawk. Not many do because they are so colorblind. She didn't care; she wasn't painting for the passers or the gawkers, she was fighting the memory. The one that is on her mind all the time, on constant repeat, that one that makes her wish that she was dead.

She sometimes saw her, in her dreams, so she stopped sleeping. She couldn't stand the site of the woman's face. That woman that dared to call herself a mother, she closed her eyes as he walked up to her. He smiled at her work, but he was just another gawker, she opened her eyes.

"Colorblind," he stated, looking at her work. She blinked, did he accuse her work of being mismatched. She smiled at him, grabbing her canvas she began to walk away. The first time in two months, seven days and eight hours. He had no idea, why she painted, who was he to judge her? He was just another suit with no good taste, but he was able to pin point it exactly.

Memory: haunting
There are some things you just can't forgive and forget.

"Oh Marie," she sighed, brushing her hand through the girl's hair. So caring and sweet, too bad it was all a lie. Marie didn't know, she was only fourteen after all, so naïve, but she wasn't suppose to know.

"Mama?" she asked her mother, looking up from the doodle a quick sketch of her mother.

"Why don't you have friends, darling?" her mother asked randomly.

Marie looked at her thoughtfully, "Aren't you my friend, mama?"

Her mother chuckled, "of course, sweetie."

"May we go to the plaza?"

She smiled, "grab your canvas."

They drove for hours; the excited girl looked outside her window. She sighed dreamily, as the clouds darkened; it was going to rain soon. They arrived at four a clock; she smiled brightly, taking out her camera it was the perfect time for it. She grabbed her bag, big enough to carry her canvas. She looked at her mother, as she got out of the car, it was the first time she ever saw her look so old. The young girl frowned when she captured the picture of her mother.

She muttered something incoherent, her daughter stared in confusion. Had she done something wrong? Why wasn't her mother getting out of the car? She looked at the wheel, as she muttered again. Catching the word, 'move' the girl took a step back.


"Don't call me that, you little bitch." She hissed, looking around.

"Rei?" she tried again.

"I hate you; I never want to see you again. I hope you die."

Stop, rewind, repeat.


Gas. Forward. Gone. Marie didn't move she stood watching her mother speed away, the tears swelling in her eyes.

Escape: doodles.
If you can get away in it, it's the perfect escape.

It was the first day she ever sat in the plaza and it was the last day she ever saw her mother again. She was confused and hurt, clutching her canvas to her heart as she cried. She could never really forget, but she founded that doodling, eased the pain. She had lost her mother and her best friend, her life was crashing down into a black vortex of doom. She thought about death so much, it was unnatural, but she wouldn't give up just yet. She had a world to take down and something to prove.

She lived in the plaza. Day after day, she sat in the plaza drawing and doodling. Because she had nothing else to do and really nothing else mattered. The plaza was just an ordinary place, so she didn't stick out too much. But people had to complain about something, she looked at the security guard with dismay as he approached her, she continued to doodle.

"Miss, I'm going have to ask you to leave."


He was too busy looking at her doodle to answer. "That's beautiful."

She looked up at him, "I know."

"Where'd you learned to do that?"

"My father. Would you like one?"

Blink. Blink. "Of course."

She handed him the doodle, "Now stay off my back."

He laughed at her comment, and then he walked away.

It was the beginning of a strange friendship. She laughed, mentally at the irony; her mother had to leave her so she could make a friend. Her pencil broke and she threw it bitterly.

Security: friends
The best of friends must part.

He was young, nineteen, which wasn't too surprising to her, his name, was Edward, Ed for short, and he had just started working in the plaza.

"Where are your parents?" he asked her, three weeks and six days after her mother had left her.

"My father died when I was four," she sighed, she was drawing him and he kept moving.

"I'm sorry…"

"Quit moving." She ordered him, her patience growing thin.

Another laugh, it was so sweet. She blinked, letting out a small giggle that soon turned into uncontrollable laughter.

He inclined his head, looking at her with a confused look. "What's so funny?"

She shook her head, a snicker escaping her hands; that were covering her mouth. He stood up, curious; he walked over to her and looked at her picture.

"I'd look nice with a French mustache and a matching goatee."

Laughter. Beautiful and sweet.

Off shift, on shift he was always with her. She began to love his presence; he could make her laugh and always had an umbrella on a rainy day. She found herself falling for him, she was about to hit rock bottom. She let her guard down and let the happiness flow, but one day Edward stop coming. She waited day after day, night after night and he was nowhere to be found.

She stopped being hopeful and she couldn't smile anymore; she began to doodle more and dilly-dally less. She had learned about the few gawkers and the many passers, she hated them all.

Birthday: happiness
Happy birthday to you…

One month, three days.

Flowers were arranged around her when she awake to the cold drizzle of rain beating down on her. A card placed on her stomach she blinked, the writing was smudge and illegible. She looked at the flowers, white lilies, exactly fifteen. She frowned at them, and placed the card in her bag. She picked up the flowers and grimaced, the world was mocking her today. Fifteen white lilies; the flowers of death, she was never one to be superstitious, she threw them away anyways.

Beggar: Poor
She'll do anything for some cash.

It was on a bad day, it was the hot summer heat that got her, that she let them strip her of the one thing nobody could take from her, her pride. She drew up a sign that read 'Will draw for cash' it was one month, three weeks and seventeen hours and her stomach growled she smelled like crap but her art was better then anyone's in the plaza. Great art at cheap prices, who could resist? Apparently the suits and the passers could, but what did they know, she decided miserably that they were colorblind.

It wasn't until a mother with two children, a boy the older taunting the younger, another boy who was obviously younger. The younger boy had to be four or five and the older was at least seven, eight at the most. The older boy had unruly black hair while the younger had angelic blond hair. They both had sea green eyes filled with mischief.

"Alec!" the mother scowled at the older boy, the younger brother smiled smugly. The mother placed a watchful eye on them, "Behave," she ordered them.


"Yes?" Marie responded, quickly, her own voice surprising her. It was so much quieter then it once had been.

"Will you draw a picture of my sons, Alec and Vinnie?"

She looked at the two boys, "twenty dollars for both,"

The mother screw up her face, looking at her two children then back at Marie. "Can't you make it a little, cheaper?"

Marie's stomach growled in protest causing the girl to almost clutch herself in pain, almost. "I need to eat too, besides that doesn't seem to be a problem." She noted the huge diamond ring on the woman's finger, the woman didn't look happy with her.

"I can take my money somewhere else."

"Fine, but that's the cheapest you'll get it, anywhere."

"Twenty, head shot and color."

"Make it twenty-five and I do a full body shot."

"Deal." The woman was about to shake her hand, but changed her mind. She handed Marie the money, then looked back at her children.

"I'll be back in an hour. It better be done."

Marie blinked, but before she could protest the woman was gone and there were her children, Marie sighed and began to work.

Pick up: interesting
Come back to me later, for that bitch slap for that lame pick up line.

Children hate standing still; Alec and Vinnie were no acceptation, of course to make things worse Alec liked to pick at his little brother.

"Hold still, damn it" Marie cursed at them.

"OOOOOOO I'M TELLING DADDY!" Vinnie shouted with all his might causing quite a few suits to stop and stare. With that Marie was thankful she was an only child and that the hour was almost up. She prayed their mother would come back soon or early, she wondered what kind of women left her children with a complete stranger. When Alec launched the blue paint at her, covering her face completely she had her answer. In the pit of her stomach she thought that their mother would never come back.

She shook her head abandoning the thought; normal mothers loved their children, no matter how bad they were.

"DON'T TOUCH THAT!" she screeched at Alec; who went for her camera, but Vinnie got to it first. Laughing as he dodged her grip, he then ran over to his older brother and handed it to him.

Alec smirked as he took a picture of a frustrated Marie, his smirked quickly turned to a frown. "Why don't you smile?" he asked.

It was an innocent question, she sighed. "Because two bad little boys stole my camera and they won't give it back," she crossed her arms. "May I, please, have it back?"

They agreed solemnly handing her the camera and sitting staring big eyed at her. She sighed relief, but it wasn't until she realized they weren't looking at her, she turned.


end of chapter oo1.
Well, I can't say I love this but I deff don't hate it.
It was suppose to be a one-shot but I just couldn't pull it off.
So leave a review and I'll update soon.