Artinniss Viotto was born on the 11th minute of the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. She was born a curse. Pets died, it was Artinniss’s fault. Mistakes, losses and disasters…somehow they all traced back to her. By age 11, Artinniss had already accepted the fact that her whole life would be full of hate and fear, not hers of course, but everyone else’s. She never left the house. She was stuck with her father, Diccon. He sat there, at the edge of the table. Eating his breakfast. Artinniss was perched on the opposite end, nibbling her avocado on toast and slowly sipping her orange juice. They didn’t talk. They just ate in silence. Silence was normal in the Viotto household. Diccon cleared his throat, this usually signified the end of a meal, “Hurry up, girl. Your lessons begin in less than 30 minutes. New tutor today, last one quit because apparently yesterday your curse killed his goldfish,” he sneered. Then he collected his dishes and sauntered to the kitchen. Artinniss sighed and brushed the crumbs off her lap onto the floor. She pushed herself out of her chair and stumbled towards her bedroom. She got dressed into her favourite outfit: A dull, oversized, grey hoodie and a pair of dark, loose jeans—and stared at her reflection, judging herself, as she brushed her brown, waist-length hair. A pounding knock hit her door, “Tutor’s here. Hurry up,” the deep, bitter voice of her father muttered impatiently. Luckily, Artinniss was about to head back downstairs anyway. The new tutor was tapping with her pen on a stack of papers when Artinniss had entered the living room. When her tutor’s gaze had met Artinniss’s forest-green eyes, she jerked upright. “Ar-Artinniss! I will be your tutor. M-my name is Miss Gower.” She looked young enough that she had only just finished her university study—this must’ve been her first job. Miss Gower’s eyes darted around the room as if she was searching for an escape route. Artinniss knew the drill. With a small sigh to herself, she plonked herself down on her seat over on the other side of the room. Miss Gower: I flattened my already-flattened cardigan collar and flinched when Artinniss came up to me to hand up the work I had assigned her. 23 weeks. 23 of them. 23 weeks of excess acting that I didn’t really need to do—acting as a terrified teacher. “Okay. Well… Now you will read this…And, uh, once you have read it, you will have to provide me with a…model. Yes. A model of an aquatic biome.”
This is made by me, so don’t steal any ideas >:3 Is this good? Or should I quit and never write again? Song: Animals by STOMACH BOOK Part 2: Other parts can be found here: https://www.quotev.com/story/17406140/Artinniss-Viotto/1 Tags: lol
