invisible // m.c.

1

ESTELLE

"estelle, wake up. we have to go to the doctors today."

my eyes fluttered open, and I squinted due to the bright light shining down on me.

I shifted in my bed and sat upright. across the room stood andrea. andrea is the lady that adopted me.

that's right. I'm adopted.

I was put up for adoption for a reason you might never believe.

when I was 13, I was diagnosed with a mental disorder.

a mental disorder that you might have heard of many times.

it's one that makes you feel as if you're trapped and just horrible in general.

depression.

I never felt... normal like everyone else.

I felt like no one understood me. well, except ashton.

ashton is my best friend. one of the longest friends I've had. in fact, he's the only friend I've ever made.

sometimes, I wonder why he would ever want to be friends with me. no one, and I mean no one, wants to be friends with the depressed girl.

when I was still going to a public school, everyone treated me as if I was diseased.

no one would come near me, talk to me heck or even look at me.

it was as if I was invisible.

I hated life, but there was one thing that I hated more than life.

myself.

about a year after I was diagnosed with depression, ashton joined the school.

he was the new kid. I always wondered why he never talked to anyone.

he always sat alone at one specific round table where he would poke and stare intently at the stale bread roll that we'd get on our trays daily. I called him the 'bread roll kid' and I still do.

on his second day, he came up to me and began to talk to me. he had stick-straight blonde hair and this awfully long fringe swept over to one side. he wore this terrible purple shirt that almost made me gag ( a/n : let's just go with it ) and khakis.

-

3 years ago

"I'm ashton."

he shot me a small smile, stretching his hand out for me to take.

"estelle?" I replied back, introducing myself, but it came out more like a question. I took his hand, shaking it hesitantly.

that was when I first saw the cuts
on his wrist. even the countless amount of bracelets couldn't cover up some of them. some cuts looked fresh while some looked dried up.

I was curious to know more about 'bread roll kid'. not just because of his cuts, but also why he never talked to anyone but me.

was he going through what I was going through?

"I see you everyday. why don't you talk to anyone?"

my face turned pale.

what do I say?