lukey

Prologue/ Chapter 1

The birth of your baby should be a happy day. And it was, as Ashton and his wife lovingly stared into their new born baby's blue eyes, they knew that the rest of their lives started now. They would treat their child like a princess, and give her everything she deserves-that was until his wife collapsed.

There was difficulties, apparently. Nothing to do to safe her, sorry.

Ashton tried hard to breathe through the pain, when he looked at his kid.

She was the reason why his beautiful wife was dead. If she wasn't born her mum would be alive, with him, not leaving him by himself. People came and went as the days past, telling Ashton that he was so lucky that the baby didn't die as well, and that she's okay.

But he doesn't feel lucky and doesn't think that he could ever love his child because she killed his true love.

Chapter 1

Cursing slightly under my breath, I try to do the sequence again. It shouldn't be hard, it was a simple routine, with a pirouette to finish. Yet something was on my mind, and as I was about to transition into the next move; I lost my focus and fell.

"My my my Jessie," my ballet teacher says bitterly, crossing her arms. "You haven't had a lucky start today have you? The session is over; you can leave to go home now. Please remind your father to pay me for this month!"

I nod, and walk to the changing rooms. Unable to be bothered to change, I change my Pointe shoes to my converse and make my way out of the ballet hall.

Waiting for me was one of my dad's best friends; Calum; smoking and leaning on the hood of the car.

"Hi jellyfish," Calum greets, tossing the cigarette onto the floor. I scrunch my nose up at the smell of burning gas. It was gross.

"You realise that I you carry on smoking your-"

"Cilia would be blocked and my lungs will go black blah de blahdy blah," he drones, getting in the car. I get in the front seat next to him, and buckle myself in. "I get it Jellyfish, but I'm happy smoking, and isn't that what life is about? Being happy?"

"You won't be happy when you're dead," I mutter as he reverses out of the parking lot.

"Daddy didn't want to pick me up?" I question, as he takes a right at the junction.
He coughs, giving him time to think of another lie to justify why he hates her so much and didn't want to pick her up.

"He, um, had work to do sweetheart." I stare at his face,which shows the symptoms of guilt and sympathy, and look forward to keep my eyes on the road. I can feel myself start to tear up, and I know I will, because I'm a baby when it comes to things like this.

My mother died giving birth to me, and I suppose my dad is mad at me because I'm the reason for her death.
"Okay," I whisper; I didn't want to talk anymore.

The rest of the car ride was silent, except from the music on classic FM, personally my favourite radio station to listen to. Despite calum hating this music (after all, his band was into a much different genre), he still put it on, as he knows that it relaxes me after practice. I get frustrated with myself sometimes, because I want to be the best. My mother, I heard, did ballet when she was my age too, so that's why I think my dad was so accepting of it.

To say that my father hated me was an overstatement. He still talks to me but mainly his friends were more parents to me than he was. Especially Calum, whereas Michael was like a fun uncle. Luke, on the other hand, was more like a best friend; a really hot one. Since I was 5 I've had a crush on Luke. He has always, and still will be my favourite. He was the youngest out of the 4 bestfriends, turning 35 last month. My dad was 37, the oldest, Michael 36 and Calum too. Sadly, they were my only friends. At the age of 13 I was taken out of public school, to a one-on-one behaviour centre where I did my GCSEs. The doctors said that I had a problem with socialising to people ,like anxiety but different in a way that I wasn't scared of talking to people, I just ,well, couldn't.