“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”
The precious little sentiment penned by Charlotte Brontë was stuck up on Ashling's wall, written in the girl's own messy cursive. Surrounding it were magazine and newspaper clibbings, pictures of beautiful celebrities in glamorous gowns, beautiful scenes of nature --the alps, the rockies, the pacific, the rainforest in Puerto Rico and the northern lights as seen up in Alaska.
There were posters and advertisements of various indie or local bands Ashling had been to, or wanted to see. There were even pictures of her as a baby, being held by her mother. Her wall was a giant collage, interupted by the two tiny windows, door, closet and the big mirror and vanity. Ashling lay across her bed on her back, holding a small hand mirror above her face as she carefully smeared a vibrant red lipstick across her lips.
The young girl was wearing a shoplifted shirt, it was black and a mock leather material. It didn't cover all of her belly button and allowed the bright read of her bra to show on the sides and in the front. She wore big black heeled boots that reached up to her knee. They were paired with a short pair of dark denim shorts which showed off the stick and poke sword-stabbing-a-heart tattoo she had gotten a few weeks before.
Age appropiate? Not exactly. She looked like a short 20 year old, potentially passing for 6 years older than her age. She had gotten the tattoo on her fourteenth birthday; 3 weeks ago and was intent on showing it off. Vivian was going to pick her up and they were going out to party.
Ashling wasn't a total delinquent by any means. In fact she was getting almost all A's in her school, with the exception of a B- in science and B+ in math. She was in Junior high at that point, excited to move onto High School. She was nice enough in her class but rather shy, an outsider. It was safer to keep everyone at arm's length. Especially teachers. Although she had been needing to hide from her teachers less and less as she discovered the helpful product of water proof concealer that could be used to hide various unexplainable bruises and scrapes.
She had no real friends in her school, but she did have a few other friends outside of it. They were older than her, had cars, went drinking, some of them even were even involved in a local biker gang of sorts. Ashling was around them a lot, but kept out of the loop. No matter what sort of nightmares of friends she brought home with her, her dad wouldn't say or do a thing.
She used to try to make him happy, getting the full on straight A's in school, dressing nicely, keeping the house clean, learning to cook well... He still hit her. So why bother? She started dating guys too old for her. Even girls. Anything to get his attention. Drinking, smoking, dressing like a background dancer in a music video. At least then when he hit her and called her a dirty tramp it bothered her less because it seemed like she earned it. At least it felt less unfair that way. It was less like he was just hitting her because he was angry at her mom.
The rolling stones was playing out of her sticker-coated speakers as Ashling sat up and grabbed her eyeliner, surrounding her eyes in a bold black outline. She covered the lids with a dusky bronze and light mocha, using expert twirls of her fingers that Vivian taught her to get the desired look. A few sprits of hair spray after brushing out the messy red locks and she was done, grabbing her black jacket and climbing out of her window.
She dropped to the ground with ease, and within two minutes of her skulking in the shadows on her lawn, Vivian pulled up in her truck and Ashling jumped inside.
"You're wearing the boots I gotcha." Vivian said with a grin, as she turned off Ash's street. The younger girl nodded, smiling broadly.
"They look hot. Which is good. Jamie's got some "friends" coming through. Cutting a little deal. Having pretty ladies are gonna sweeten the deal up and make everybody happy." Vivian said shoving a cigarette between her lips. Ashling picked up the lighter from the counsel, holding it out to the older girl on instinct.
YOU ARE READING
Twinges and Chaos
Short Story(What will eventually be) a series of short Mayhem and Twitch pieces varying from drabbles to songfics, possible smutt --rating viable to change.
