·and if I catch it comin' back my way·

[❀ Melíssa]

      Chelsea slipped in through the side door, quietly tip-toeing around the corner and up the stairs. She listened for signs of life before entering the 'apartment' she shared with her sister and brother. Unable to detect anyone there, she bolted into her room. Throwing open her closet doors, she spotted the box in the back corner.
      Thinking about the espionage she had to pull off the get the damn thing here, she groaned. Her parents had cataloged every single thing that was packed up, to make sure everything made it here, and that no paparazzi got their hands on any personal material.
      This cardboard cube would be a tabloid writer's wet dream.
      The lighter that Chelsea used every day to soften her eyeliner sat in the dresser, and she pocketed it, hoisting the box onto her hip. It was time.
      Back downstairs, she stole outside through the garage, staying hidden behind it. She could hear the sounds of Nate and TJ playing Black Ops in the living room, their shouts traveling through the family room and out across the porch. Aware that she'd have to act fast, Chelsea dropped the box where she stood, and pulled back the flaps.
      Retrieving photo after photo after photo, Chelsea felt her anger boiling inside of her. All of that time, wasted. She thought about his gentle, loving touch, and how it conflicted with his harsh, cold words.
      Holding the first picture between her thumb and index finger in her left hand, she flicked the lighter, hearing the flint strike and ignite the butane inside, and held the bright orange flame to the edge of the picture. One side of her mouth curled up, her lips shifting into a crooked smile, unable to resist the surge of incredible satisfaction that washed over her.
      "Never again," she said out loud, moving on to the next photo.