Ash Tray

Chapter One

Ashley's POV:

I stared into those blue eyes, my own brown ones piercing his. He had that sideways smirk as he twisted my wrist. I grunted quietly in pain.
"That hurt AshTray?"
"Fuck off Mason." I growled back to the boy.
Mason Dixon, the boy who's trying to ruin my life. The town bully and my own personal terrorist. My wrist made a popping noise from a previous break. His eyes widened a little, but he twisted harder.
I kept quiet until he released me. He dropped my hand and pulled me up by my hair.
"Come on AshTray, we're going outside." I let him drag me, as he does every time I piss him off. He threw my body down on the rocks of the parking lot.
"Get up." He demanded. I stayed still, not because I was afraid, because I wanted to be defiant.
"One." He counted.
"Two... three!" His foot slammed into my ribs, right under my bra. I cried out in pain as a loud cracking noice echoed through the air. He smiled cockily and rolled me onto my back.
"Poor little bitch, did that hurt? You should have stood up when I told you."
He ran a hand through my hair and kicked my side one last time. He laughed harshly and went to his next class, leaving me in the ground. A teacher came to me.
"Stand up AshTray, I'll take you to the nurse."
"No thank you Mrs. Bennet." I crawled to my knees. I wiped my chin, spit running down it. I coughed hard and felt my stomach jump in my throat. I swallowed it down.
Stop it! I demanded of myself. He kicked your ribs, not your stomach, just handle it.
I pushed myself up to my feet. I shuffled to my locker with the constant limp I have from a past injury. I turned the combination and opened my locker. Blue paint exploded from inside, splattering on my face. It went in my eyes and I gasped in pain. I rubbed them quickly, trying to remove the paint.
"Ow- ow-ow!" I dropped my bag and ran to the bathroom. I washed my eyes and stared in the mirror. My grey hair was stained blue, my brown eyes bloodshot, paint running down my body. I whimpered softly as I tried to scrub my face. My shirt was soaking wet by the time I finished. My hair was still blue, probably would be for a few days. My eyelashes were clotted from the water, makeup ran down my cheeks. I looked like an unattractive Harley Quinn. My lipstick was smeared like I had just gotten punched. I quietly returned to my locker to find Mason looking through my phone.
"Hey AshTray, like my little present I left for you?"
"Fuck off Dixon."
"Ohhh, sassy little bitch!" He smirked. Something inside me caved at that sideways grin. My heart beat a little faster as I kept my scowl.
"Move it." I pushed past him. My books were coated in paint, half of them vandalized. I picked one up and tried to open the sticky binding.
"Burn in hell AshTray!"
"Goth freak"
"Whore"
There were more scribbled insults but I stopped reading. Mason stared over my shoulder.
"Oh, but you aren't a whore are you AshTray?" He smiled.
"Because no one would fuck you if you got on your knees and begged." He sneered loudly. My cheeks burned red in anger.
"No one could love a goth little freak like you. Not even your own father. Isn't that right AshTray? That's why your arms are all scarred up with burns. I bet if I pulled your jeans down I would find more burns. Wouldn't I?"
"That's none of your business." I hissed. He reached for my belt playfully. I smacked his hand. His eyes widened and he glared at me.
"Get over yourself." He growled. He threw my phone down, shattering the screen. He left the hallway. I picked up my phone and sighed, fixing my belt. I stared down at my jeans, knowing what was hidden underneath. I rubbed my own thigh softly, blood seeping through from a cut I made last night. I groaned quietly, my black jeans soaking darker. I went to the bathroom again and tried to clean up. Once my jeans were fairly dry I returned to my locker and packed up my books. I started my walk home.

A small trailer came into view as I walked down the paved road. I shuffled towards it, fearing facing my father once again.
"Hey dad." I dropped my bag inside.
"Go do your daughterly duties bitch." I nodded at his gruff, already drunk voice. I grabbed him a beer from the fridge and popped the top, handing it to him. He took a long sip quietly.
"What happened to you?" He asked.
"Mason..."
"Good, you deserve whatever they put you through. You know that right?"
"Yes sir." I nodded, going to my room. I cleaned my books best I could and took my makeup off. I pulled my hair into a messy bun and stretched out on the floor, not owning a bed. I stared at the wooden jewelry box beside me. I opened the lid and saw the silver razor inside. I stared silently thinking of my day. I pulled it out and closed the lid. I tore my jeans off and saw my scars, thinking about adding to my collection...