“Grace! Stop it!” a shrill voice erupted from the living room of a small one-bedroom apartment. Appearing from the doorway stood a 5’8 tall middle-aged woman with her brunette hair tied back in a messy bun, an apron smeared with cake batter and a plaid dress that was worn and tattered. The woman herself appeared to have gone through enough experiences for a lifetime – each wrinkly and crease on her face telling its own story.
“But mommmmm-” Grace, a petite little girl covered from head to toe in green acrylic paint, whined.Grace sat in the middle of the now neon green living room that had paint splattered on throughout the different crevices of the room, the wooden floors and once white walls which have grown a murky gray.
“Grace, if I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times. NO PAINTING! These are your brother’s paints and your father will be furious when he finds out!” Grace’s mother shouted in a fury as she scrambled to pick up the spilled bottle of green acrylic, snatch the brushes from Grace’s hands and collect the scattered sheets of printer paper that had green paint delicately spread on top of it.
Grace screeched in rebellion trying to prevent her mother from taking away the works of art she had so proudly created. But it was to no avail as Grace’s mother eventually collected all of her artworks and began crumbling them up into a ball to fit through the narrow opening of their trash can – treating Grace’s creations as garbage. It was clear that Grace did not endorse her mom’s behavior and as an act of rebellion, Grace clawed the bottle of green acrylic back from her mother and turned the bottle upside down right above her head.
Grace’s mother watched in horror as she saw a thick mass of neon green fluid fall on her child’s head, coloring every part it touched a different shade of green and splattering upon impact to touch upon the furniture, floors, walls, and even ceiling of the living room.
“Grace!” the woman screamed in disbelief that her daughter committed such an open act of defiance. The woman dropped the paint brushes that she had snatched and let the crumpled pieces of paper that were once Grace’s proud works of art flutter to the floor.
After the entire bottle of paint was emptied on top of her, Grace flung the empty plastic container to the side and stared her mother dead in the eyes. A devious smirk lit up Grace’s face as she, even in her earlier years and limited experience of life, knew that she had hurt her mother as much as her mother had hurt her.
