Ashley.
I don't know what came over me, one minute I loved my new room, my new life, and the next, I couldn't have hated it more than I now hated myself. This made no sense, I mean, I loved the way I looked, I mean I used to, what has changed in a matter of minutes? Nothing. That's what. Something strange was going on there. And I was determined as ever to figure out what.
Remembering my past was difficult. I knew it wasn't a good past, maybe that's why I didn't want to remember it, but it felt important. Like I should remember.. But I couldn't, and almost wouldn't. I don't know what's happening to me. Will I ever know?
I screamed. What was happening to me? I knew I wasn't okay, yet I felt as if I had always been lying to myself. Like as if I was just trying to fit in. Be perfect. When I cant be, because I never was. And obviously never was going to be. I was so mad. At myself, my mom, my dad, even my old friends, because they hadn't even cared I was leaving, and when I did? I doubt they even noticed. They were pure bitches. Why had I even been friends with them.
I stripped the walls, clawing each chip of paint off with my now raw fingernails. I didn't care anymore. I hated it. All of it. The bed was shattered to pieces on the floor, splinters stuck into every inch of skin on my body, but they didn't bother me, not like they used to. My fingers bled, and my arms were sure to scars from the scratches from the wood and walls, but it would just remind me never to be someone I am obviously not.
Slowly and surely I stepped back to admire my work. It looked like a horrific, beautiful piece of modern art, and I couldn't have been happier with the final result. Intentional or not, it worked. And it worked well. In my eyes it was perfect.
That was the moment when dad walked in. I knew I was in big trouble. His face prickled itself with redness, he was not happy. Not one bit. I was going to get a real shouting at tonight. That's when the flashback happened.
- 'Aaron, sweety, come and help with the dinner, I need the salad to be chopped up' My mom said, calling for my dad to get off the sofa and put his cider down, but he didn't move. His eyes were glued to the television.
'AARON!' My mum screeched. He moved. Into the kitchen, quicker than ever.
'What?' My dad slurred, his breath lathered with alcohol. He stumbled across the room to the chopping board, opposite mom.
'Chop and slice, please sweety' My moms voice was calm. But I could notice something, distant about it. Her eyes were tired and droopy. My dad started cutting the carrots, when he diced it wrong. The anger bubbling inside him was visible, the knife was suddenly out of his hands, and next to my four year old head, centimeters away. -
I started to make my way to the door, trying to push past my dad, blinking back my tears. But to my surprise he grasped my wrist, and firmly pulled me out of the room into the corridor. He called for Lucy, telling her to redecorate the room, as he had told her to a few days ago. She nodded and shut the door, bustling away inside.
It wasn't for another few hours that I was allowed to revisit my room. My dad had kept me outside the door, and told me to reconsider everything. That everything was possible now. I didn't quite understand what he meant but I tried anyways. Slowly I realized, my life before. It wasn't really perfect, I didn't like pink. My mom did, it was HER perfect childhood, she had forced it upon me. No choice, no way out.
I had been trapped inside a perfect little world where everything was done for me. Not anymore. Noone should be able to control my life. Not god, not fate. I do what I do and get on with things from now on. Try and stop me world, because I'm ready for you. That's when I collapsed on the floor, my dad standing over me, talking away.
