-Nikki P.O.V.-

We were all now in the SUV that David had rented from the airport at a company called Budget. I was staring at the buildings we passed. We were driving down the coast of California and honestly it was really breathtaking. The beautiful waves crashing down onto the golden sand flakes. Neil and max were sleeping as was a lot of the campers. Max was leaning on the side door and Neil was resting his head on the seat. It was sort of funny to watch, his head up in the air. I couldn't help but laugh under my breath a little. I was so happy we were by the ocean but I knew we would be turning into the suburbs towards the city. L.A. is the final destination but I hoped it wouldn't be so long we'd have to rent a hotel. I laid my head down on the side door I was on and was thinking about what would happen when we got there. Around me were faint snores and my vision got a bit distorted. I knew I was falling asleep but it felt off.

I look out at the sun just starting to peek through the trees. I pick up a purple crayon then a green one. For my age of a seven year old I was coloring inside the lines perfectly. The butterfly on the page was now a vibrant purple. I got up off the kitchen table and ran to my moms room. She was putting on a blue eyeshadow that made her look like she had sloppily put marker on her eyes.

"Mommy! Mommy! Look at my drawing!" I yelled with happiness.

My mother turned slightly and continued to put the slop on her face.

"What is it Nicolette?" She turned her attention to her mirror and sort of ignored me putting slight touches on the messed up makeup.

"A butterfly, I thought that would be obvious." I turned my head to the side and gave a confused look.

"That's nice. Your dads coming to pick you up I have some business I need to deal with." My mother said while snapping her tight dress in place. I never knew what she did but sometimes I felt like she didn't want to try and fix her relationship with dad. I looked down at my shoes and turned to walk to my room. I lightly put the drawing of the butterfly on my small desk. The light was now shining through my window full blast. I grabbed my small backpack that I always had if my dad came by to pick me up so I could be ready. I put it on my back and went over to my desk. I looked at the vibrant butterfly so peaceful and happy unlike how I was. I looked at my holder for all my utensils. A black marker was in the middle of the stack. I grabbed it and pulled the cap off fast I scribbled hard on the butterfly ruining the drawing that took me two hours. I scribbled big thick black marks all over it until It ripped through. I started to cry and wouldn't stop. I picked up the drawing now a tornado of colors and ripped it piece by piece crying under my breath so my mom wouldn't hear.

"Why...? Why am I never good enough for her? I just want my mom." I sobbed quietly. All around my room pieces of the once beautiful butterfly ruined. Never to be seen again. The pieces were ripped so small I couldn't even see color anymore. Maybe that's how I've always been, a broken painting once was beautiful but then the years go by and the paint fades. And somehow it stays through it all, no friends, no siblings, no shoulder to cry on. And no one to go to when your sick or just feel sad. Sometimes I wonder if I weren't here if my mom would be happy. I know she never wanted me. But my dad did, the only thing that stopped her from getting rid of my developing body taking me out. I think I'll always remember that my dad technically saved my life.