Sep 1, 2013
Who was the first person who ever criticized your appearance? Were they important to your life? Have you retained the memory?
My mother, so yes, she was. I was seven…those kind of things stick around.
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Who was the first person who ever criticized your appearance? Were they important to your life? Have you retained the memory?
My mother, so yes, she was. I was seven…those kind of things stick around.
The enormity of the possible // Brynn & Brett (feat. The Turners)
We are afraid of the enormity of the possible. - Emile M. Cioran
"Daddy's not going to be crazy, is he? This isn't supposed to be an ordeal." Brynn called out from the closet to her mother sitting on her bed. Sylvia Turner just smiled with a soft chuckle falling from her lips at her daughter's concerned tone, "Of course not, sweetheart, he's just polishing one of the guns." With the un-amusing comment, Brynn's head shot out from behind the door, "Mother!" She scolded sternly with her wide-eyed stare, "please tell me you're joking." The last time Brynn brought a boy home, she had been really serious about him. It had been Allister. Her mother's lighthearted teasing now was supposed to remind her that they were actually rooting for a Social. "It'll be fine, Brynnie."
"He's just a friend, my best friend. Nothing has changed between us, so please no big scene." The last part was a little bit of a lie, but she was their virginal angel. Who was she to shatter the image? Edwin might actually take out that freshly polished gun if he knew of the one night of passion the two best friends shared.
The sound of a doorbell's chiming caused the entire household to freeze before motion restarted with fire. Her dad beat them all to the door, much to Brynn's chagrin. He really did love intimidating boys who came for his baby girl. She was still his little princess, and each of them was to be aware of his authority. He really was fond of Brett, who had been part of their lives for over a decade. If anyone was good enough for Brynn, it would be a boy like Brett. "Brett Kelly," he greeted as he threw open the door, "come in." Giving him a once-over with a stern glare, not moving from the doorway until he felt he had sufficiently made the boy uncomfortable.