The path back home

Chapter 5

         "What's that!" A scrawny kid with a nazily voice screeches.

          Though sounding more like and insult then a question, I reply with a tart response. "A drawing."

         He scrunches his nose in an obviously exaggerated manner. I figure he's only trying to annoy me, and so I ignore him.

      He's clearly not pleased with my reaction, since- in response to my actions- he shoves his ugly face into my view.

     He narrows his eyes so tightly that I doubt he's able to see through them.

        "Can I help you?" I scowl annoyed.

        Amusement replaces his expression. "Your drawing is ugly," he states simply. I restrain from rolling my eyes.

        "You're ugly," I retort lamely, not being able to quickly think out an actually good comeback.

       He snarls. "Don't go around calling people ugly when you clearly haven't looked in the mirror." He shoves his fat finger up his nose in an attempt to annoy me.

       I pull out my phone and switch over to the camera app. "Still beautiful. Thank you for reminding me to look at my beautiful face. It always makes me feel better."

       He furrows his eyebrows so much, that every single part of his face is crinckles. "Your eyes aren't working right."

       Finding this horrible "comeback" battle meaningless, I pick up my sketchbook to find another place to draw. To my displeasure, the ugly kid follows me.

      "You can't just walk away. I'm talking to you," he says, his face all scrunched up. When I don't respond, he decides to nag me even more by ripping my sketchbook away from my hands. He smirks at the sigh of shock on my face. I try to reach for it, but the height difference between us prevents me from being able to.

        "You want this?" He taunts. A mischievous smile crosses over his face, and before I have any chance to comprehend anything, he throws my sketchbook into a pile of mud.

        The horror on my face must be obvious because the kid ends up laughing without end. I stand in the same spot, paralyzed. Months of hard work down the drain. Hours and hours spent on each drawing. They're all ruined.

         A wet anger consumes me. I feel myself on the verge of tears. Don't cry don't cry! I try and remind myself. I want to smash something, but at the same time I want to punch myself.

         Instead of doing either, I turn to him with red, vicious eyes. I bring back my leg then extend it forward, kicking him as hard as I can in the shin. He doesn't even flinch and breaks into fits of laughter once again.

          I decide to leave it so that he doesn't get what he wants. Though it's very hard not trying to beat him up, I know I'll get in trouble.

         I turn to my sketchbook buried in mud. Reaching my hand in, I feel shards of dried, gross mud. I pull out my sketchbook out from the puddle. Now drenched in mud and completely ruined, my sketchbook is no longer if any use to me. And even though I tried not to, I end up in tears.

.........

          I jolt up, waking from my memory. Realizing that my dream had caused my eyes to water, I wipe off tears with the side of my index finger. Every time I remember my old life, I thank god for allowing me to be here in Naruto. Everything about there made me miserable. I can't imagine going back.