[img height=220 width=400]http://67.media.tumblr.com/b51…gpsn4lB71qcwaqao1_500.gif[/img]
[align=center][fancypost borderwidth=0pt; width: 300pt; font-size: 8px; font-family: verdana; text-align: justify; overflow: auto; color: none; line-height: 20px; word-spacing: -0.5px;]The house seemed to relish in tarnish and contamination. It was in a constant state of disarray and chaos that drowned the occupants into an endless black hole that they could never manage to escape. Submerged in a perpetual sea of alcohol and chocking on the cigarette smoke that polluted the air around them. The house was borderline uninhabitable, becoming more dilapidated with every week that it continued to be neglected. Every week there were more stains, more wallpaper peeling from the walls, and more insects crawling about. The home was simply beyond repair. Each attempt at cleaning and renovation would always be quashed with further defilement.
Charlie knew this all too well. She made frequent attempts at cleaning up the mess her mother left behind, and yet with every step forward she took, she was pushed two steps back. Figuratively and literally, depending on the mental state of her mother. It was entirely situational and varied due to other important factors. Interacting with her mother was equivalent to walking on thin ice, and a majority of the time Charlie felt as if she walking across that line ice with high heels on. The only stable thing in her life seemed to be Peter, who she could rely on entirely and unequivocally.
Work in progress.