PLANK'S CONSTANT|| ASHTRAY O'NEIL.

No, Guys.

"Pass the dutch pon' the left hand side." -Musical Youth.

Carmen's POV:

It was now around 10 o'clock and I was walking home. I was scared to go home even though I knew exactly what would happen when I did.

My dad would apologize, and all would be well until the next time he was in a drunken rage.

Me and Ash didn't talk about what happened last night when we woke up. I don't think he wants to. I can't tell why.

I open the front door. I walk down the hallway, and I see my dad in the kitchen. He turns to me.

"Carmen..." He says. I know that tone. It's the one he uses when approaching nervous strays at work. He works rode side construction. They come across a lot of stray cats and dogs.

I swallow the small lump that had formed in my throat as soon as I put my hand on the doorknob.

"Hi, dad. I say.

"I was worried bout cha, kid." He says, taking another sip of whatevers in that cup.

"I'm sorry." I say, walking upstairs, just trying to get away from that conversation. And my dad, in general.

I go into my room. I feel gross, I haven't showered since two days ago since I shower every night.

And I have my clothes from yesterday on.

I grab different clothes and go to my bathroom.

I take my clothes off. Heading to the shower, I stop in my tracks, looking in the mirror.

I hate my body. I kind of have a pear-shaped body. Just below average tits but way over average ass.

I always felt strange, even looking at myself or thinking about my body.

I step into the shower with a heavy sigh.

I mean, I've never been sexual with anyone. Some guys have tried, and of course I've been in relationships and I've kissed like three guys but it was never real.

But I like to think that I haven't had my first kiss yet because every. Single. Time. I have kissed somebody, I didn't get the spark everyone talks about. I wonder sometimes if 'the spark' is even real.

I guess I'll have to find out in the future.

I crave affection, but I always seem to inch away from it, except when it's family.

I'm unlovable, really.

I take my time, shaving my legs, washing my body, washing my hair.

All that jazz.

That's a dumb saying. I fucking hate jazz.

I finally finished showering. I get out, do my skin care and makeup before getting dressed.

I put on black Nike pro shorts, a black long sleeve, and a black zip up that I zip half way up, the zipper stopping just under my chest.

I dry my hair too. I go back to my room, putting on Nike crew socks and my prized possessions, my high-top Nike Airforce 1's.

My. Babies. When it comes to these shoes, I could care more about a microscopic grain of dirt on these shoes than I would a dying person right next to me.

I plop down on my bed, grabbing my phone and texting Alex and Elena because I am bored and frankly, I don't trust myself to be alone right now.

Three musketeers.