[ t w e l v e ]
November 11th 2009.
There were three more weeks left of school and Ashleigh had no clue whether to feel grateful for that at not.
At school, she would be bullied by people who didn't even know her well at all – but at home, she would constantly be abused by her father. She would be abused by someone who meant so much to her and this certain someone was related to her.
This made things ten times worse than it originally did.
Ashleigh wanted to die, and not for the first time in her life. She had always wondered what it would be like to be completely out of this cruel world, but she had never wanted death to come upon her so much before. She highly doubted that anything could change her mind, at the moment.
She placed her maths textbook in her tote tray, and carried her A3 piece of art towards her desk. It was abstract. The teacher had called it a beautiful and creative piece of artwork, but Ashleigh saw nothing it.
There were splotches of different colours on it – blue, red, yellow, black, yellow, orange and green. Some splotches were sponged on and some others were whipped on. Ashleigh had created an artwork, which had been expressed by her feelings – her feelings of envy, anger and depression.
She could have cried and she almost did, at that particular moment. She was so overwhelmed with emotions that she had no idea on what to do with herself.
She felt useless. What was the point of the world? There was no point – that was her conclusion, at least. If the world was pointless, Ashleigh was also pointless. This made her more insecure by the second.
Unknown to her, she had started to sob, while continuing her artwork. She hadn’t realised that streaks of tears, which had decided to stream down her cheeks.
The boy next to her laughed. Out of everything he could do, he decided to laugh at the girl. It was a cruel action. The only ordinary time where it was reasonable for one to laugh at someone crying, would be if they were laughing so hard that waterworks would flow from their eyes. This was not the case, however. It was the complete opposite.
Life was not fair for Ashleigh.
He poked her side. She yelped, in a girly way and attempted to swat his hand away, but to no avail. He relentlessly tickled and poked at her ribs and stomach.
Ashleigh squirmed and squealed, but not in the good way. She was one of the most ticklish people ever and she couldn't stand to be touched by anyone anymore. It was an invasion of her personal bubble. It was something she liked to call privacy.
She gasped for air and wheezed. She clutched at her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe.
The boy didn't care for her. He knew this would happen and he had intended for it to happen.
He didn't care.
Nobody did.
