The Velvet Chronicles

One

I hate crayons. Yellow, pink, black, green. It doesn't matter. I see them as a sign of brokenness. Crayons are always getting broken. Like hearts, minds and families. Always breaking, splitting, tearing.
         I remember when my Dad left. I was coloring with crayons.
         "The world is a big scary place," My grandfather always says, "But the heart is a tiny place, which the world tries to inhabit." My grandpa could be a philosophizer. Or a shrink. But he'd be a good shrink, not like the shrinks I've had to see.
         My dad left, my mom went to a mental hospital. Yeah, a loony bin. A crazy house. I've never heard the end of it. I live with my shrink grandpa and my crazy, pink-haired grandma. What more does a girl need? A break, an escape, some way to be noticed besides the constant visits to a counselor's office. Patience, my tale has just begun. A tale that begins with a broken heart, a torn family, and a very large bottle of black hair dye. The second chapter begins with a second chance. Chance.