The Island Girl (Harry Styles)

Chapter 38 - Part One

Chapter 38: Rosalie's POV 

Music blared through the stereo in the corner of the large basement, it's bass making the ground rumble, the vibrations making my insides tickle. The smell of wet paint filled the air, it's intoxicating stench filling my nostrils, making me scrunch my nose.  All around the room, there were endless rows of paintings, and collages.  Art was everywhere, especially on the walls.  There wasn't a dull part of the basement.  It was all so...colorful.  Creative.

I swayed to the blaring music, a smile on my face as I painted on the new canvas.  The green shade of paint was there to outline the tropical trees on the island, and maybe a few bushes here and there.  My hand danced across the canvas, and the image of what the painting is supposed to be was beginning to get clear, obvious.

I hummed to the tune of the song, and put my brush in the green paint, then grabbed the brush in the blue to start painting the ocean.  There are many similar paintings in the basement, but yet they're all unique, and have differences.

Portraits, photographs, nature, and everything else you could ever imagine was everywhere inside the large room.  The basement was much like a garage.  Concrete ground, and grey walls.  Except for the fact that the first time I went down here, I grabbed a lot of wall paint, and did splatter paint on a lot of the walls.  I got extremely messy afterwords, and it took a while to get all of the cosmetics out of my hair.  It was a pain, but it was worth it.  The basement doesn't look like a prison anymore...more like a room for kindergartners.

The sound of a door opening, and closing made me flinch, and turn to see who it was.  It was my old tutor, and now best friend Hope.  I greeted her with a genuine smile, waving in her direction.

"Is this how you're celebrating your graduation?  Painting?" Hoped walk in with a laugh, her arms going up in the air, then back down to her sides.  Chuckling, I shook my head, and continued to paint my imagination, letting the brush do it's work..  As I painted, I felt my best friend's presence next to me, knowing that she was observing my work, obviously interested.  I didn't mind.

"Beautiful." Hope pointed, "The picture I mean.  Your painting of the island...it makes me want to switch my honeymoon with Isaac from Brazil, to this place."  I laughed.

Turning to her, I gave her a cheeky smile, "Have fun with all of the mosquitoes, and very exquisite trees to sleep on.  Though the place is quite gorgeous, the residents are very hairy."

She grinned, "I've always wanted to play island girl for a day."  I raised an eyebrow, and put my paintbrush down.  My hands were on my hips, and I shook my head as I let out a deep sigh.

"You wouldn't want to." I breathed out, dropping my arms.  "A day would be okay...until you have to fight off animals that want to eat you.  Try eleven years."  Lifting up my shirt halfway, I traced the scars that I had gotten from that tiger on the day I first appeared on the island.  It was such a traumatizing experience.  I wouldn't ever relive it again.

I let out a short laugh, and pulled my shirt down, "But hey, you get battle scars!  That's pretty cool."

She nodded.  "You barely knew anything when you came back.  Now look where you are.  You've been back for a year, and you've already finished learning pretty much everything.  I say that's a pretty big accomplishment considering most people take about fourteen years to graduate.  Plus, you were never educated before." Hope said, patting me on the back.  I nodded, and stood tall, proud of myself.

"I think it's obvious of what I want to do now." I said, looking around the room, admiring all of my work.  "I used to trace patterns in the sand when I got bored.  Sometimes I would make a paste, and start to paint on flat rocks.  Color my feelings, or what I saw in my head, maybe right in front of me."