The clouds rumble with all their might and lightning strikes ominously as gashes of raindrops splatter onto the fissured cement.
I sit alone, blood running down my veined forearms as the cuts of anger and hopelessness burn with beads of red emotion.
Rage swirls in my gut as I sit there on the broken concrete, drenched to my bones, covered in brown and red.
‘You b****, get your fat self in here now and clean up this mess’, screeches a male voice I loathe so much it makes my insides hurl.
Like a ghost, I pull down the soaked sleeves of my t-shirt and walk into my life.
The T.V is blaring at the loudest volume to block away my father’s scarring words with my sister, Dakota, glued to it, sitting with our bruised and silently sobbing mother.
But I am oblivious to everything but the ablaze, aching fury inside me. The fury which grows more fierce and intense with every ephemeral second and every mouthful aimed at me.

After an hour of rigorous scrubbing and listening to the melodies of the expletives fired continually at me, flying across the room and smacking me with strident viciousness across the face, I go upstairs to my room. And cry – hot, angry and desperate tears. I cry myself to sleep and break free.

A clammy and mucky hand, that of Dakota shakes me conscious. It jerks me away from a world which was entirely my own, my reverie- who I want to be, things I desire, people I fancy. All awful memories gush back into my brain readily and I snap back, wholly and completely into reality.
I groan deeply, and sound like a dying walrus, but possessing a flair of crying like a gigantic, heaving animal that would allow me to do beast voice-overs in animations does not quite succeed in cheering me up.
Dakota mumbles a muffled and nearly incoherent goodbye as she takes off for school.
Sighing painfully, I slug off with all my might off my duvet and welcome myself to another shitty day.
Avoiding all mirrors on purpose that hang with idle boredom on my miserable white walls, which were too many for someone whose heart does double take whenever they catch sight of their hideous, disheveled self, I speed with rushed haste into the equally morbid bathroom to get dressed. Whilst putting on my green and gold uniform I think about Dakota and how tough it all must be for her, she is so very young, so naïve, oh, she’s just 9 for crying out loud. She doesn’t deserve all the s*** she has to put up with, none of us do.
With immense effort, I gear myself up to take a look at my appearance in the glass which decided your fate – if you’d be liked or looked down upon, wanted or never given a second glance, popular and liked or a downright loner. I exhale sharply and muster up all my strength.
There I was, thinking I’d run out of tears following last night, but boy, had I made a terribly mistaken assumption?
Tears shimmer like crescent moons in my puffy-red eyes as I scrutinize the girl with a long sheet of black and shiny hair, brown and crinkly eyes and skin that looked like olive groves. The girl shedding bitter and fed-up tears.

‘Oh, sod it all’, I bellow, picking up my bag furiously. And I stomp off the front door.

Halfway through the lane, I have had it up to here with my thighs that seem to be making up for the lack of my love life by rubbing into each other at every chance on hand.
Well, this is the life, I think to myself scathingly. Dealing with being ugly as well as fat, like ugly wasn’t enough, bloody delightful!

A wave of animated chatter and the scent of not long ago packed lunches hit me as I walked into hell on earth – Milwood Pike High School (MPHS – “where chivalry comes from within.”).
Seriously, who writes a school motto like that? I think with snide scorn, “where everyone is mean, dumb and makes babies in the corridor because no one gives a damn” would be just right for our school. I roll my eyes and chortle at my own hilariousness.
I stride along the corridors – lit as bright as the sun, with my head up with cool pretend-confidence and a wide, fake smile.
‘Hey Chloe, how was your weekend,’ Trisha Ann, my classmate whom all the boys fawn over inquires, beaming at me. And without waiting for a response enlightens me about hers. ‘OhmyGod, I had, like, so much fun and we had the most amazing party.’
I grin and tell her how splendid that is and begin walking again.
‘Chlo-e,’Zachary nods at me. He too, is my classmate and insists on pronouncing my name with a break between the o and the e. He believes I find it rather comic when in fact it’s just very irritating. But, lo and behold my social skills as I giggle with merry enthusiasm.
I keep on the journey to my class, stepping over each black tile and avoiding the white ones.
It’s not that I’m totally anti-social or odious. I have acquaintances, not friends. I’ve been by myself a long time, hiding away all my feelings, worries and pain, and I’m comfortable that way. My head’s not right and I’m sad; I don’t want to make anyone else sad. So being alone, it is.
‘Um, excuse me,’ a chirpy and mellow cuts my thoughts and for some very odd reason, I discover myself replying with a ‘Yeah?’ with the same amount of zest. I turn to face the boy (yeah, it was a male voice, heh) with the deep and buttery voice and freeze, mesmerized. I gawk at the boy with the ruffled blond hair I wanted to knot my fingers through, Arctic blue eyes I could plunge into and learn all the secrets they held, a pale nose with freckles I could dot and make constellations out of and finally, lush pink lips with upturned corners. He was holding out his huge, rugged hand, in which he was clasping a purple Scooby-Doo pen.
‘I believe you dropped this, er, this thing’, he says in a sing-song voice, apparently very happy with himself for have found ‘that thing’ and puts out his hand even further.
I wonder if it was the acrobats my heart was doing (goodness knows where the ability to do them came from, I’ve always been a goner at sports) or the fact that all the blood my body contained had rushed to my cheeks, that he found amusing because his grin just got bigger and bigger.
I attempted to regain my composure and took the pen gingerly from him. ‘Thank you, um, -‘
‘Aaron and no worries,’ he laughs openly. I notice his laugh is candid and infectious as I find myself joining in effortlessly.
‘And you are-,’ Aaron shoots me a questioning look, raising his eyebrows humorously.
‘Chloe,’ I answer, still laughing, ‘thank you again, Aaron.’
‘Alright, if you’re so persistent to express your gratitude, would you mind guiding me to class 304?’ He pulls a mock perplexed face that makes me let out a silly laugh.
‘Gosh, thank you Aaron, thank you so much, I owe you for the rest of my life now, you know,’ I snicker, nodding my head.
He nudges me good naturedly as we start walking down the hallway and spot a couple snogging with relentless passion and joke about them, making up stories about what they must be like.
‘One of the clichéd rom-com couples’, Aaron reckons, reaching out to the heavens with ridiculous hand gestures.
Yet again, I laugh, and say, ‘You think?’
‘So, Chloe, what class are you in?’ Aaron asks, interested and turns his gaze sideways to properly face me and his blue eyes pierce into mine.
Can I tell that I’m not breathing? I think frantically, and tell him I’m in the same class as him, eager to hear his reaction.
‘You waited this long to tell me that?’ Aaron looks at me like I’m a fool and sighs exasperatedly.
I sense a dash of a lovely feeling I haven’t really experienced before and a bit of pink creeps back into my cheeks.
‘Uh-huh,’ I pass him a mischievous leer, ‘you have no idea how secretive I am.’
Well, so you are, a voice in my head states. But the voice also makes me realize that I don’t want to be reserved around Aaron, I want to let my guards down with him, and I want to let him know everything – the good (ha), bad and ugly about me. I tell myself that I’m being preposterous, push these thoughts away and bury them somewhere in my clogged brain.
We stay comfortably quiet for the last two minutes of our journey, not for the reason that we run out of topics to converse about, but because it’s what comes naturally to both of us.
‘Here we go,’ I mutter with repulsion as I usher Aaron into our class.
‘Oh,’ he sniggers, ‘someone really does love school’ and takes a seat beside mine which once again, makes my insides tingle with ecstasy.
‘Oi Chloe, wake up!’
I open my bleary eyes with reluctance to perceive Aaron peering down teasingly at me.
I think about falling asleep during class with mortification and then give an involuntary and un-ladylike snort seeing Aaron’s face.
‘Aye, sleepyhead, these are pair-projects, remember?’ Aaron stifles a smile and continues;’ now thou shall awaken and help me out because I am absolutely stuck!’
I rub my hazy eyes and hope to the universe I hadn’t drooled like a dog while I was asleep. ‘How long was I out?’ I ask Aaron, pulling his Biology book towards me and trying to decipher what it said. I let out a small whistle through my teeth, ‘bloody hell, what does this even mean, I’d much rather figure out The Da Vinci Code?’ I look at Aaron incredulously.
‘Told you I was stuck, you dweeb,’ he retorts, chuckling to himself and swinging his head from side to side.
I try to concentrate on the book once again but fail to. Aaron is positioned too close to me; I can make out the little fair hairs on his huge and strong looking arms. He, unlike me, is wearing a half-sleeved shirt. Also unlike me, he doesn’t have any scars to hide from the world. I can discern his eyes focused on the onion we’re supposed to be, well, doing something with.
I think about how he gladly paired up with me to do this project when he could’ve asked anyone, not that he needed to because even Trisha Ann had very coyly requested him to ‘help her out’. The moment we’d entered the class, there’d been a hush as all the girls had given him a swift once-over and enjoyed what they saw. Thus, making it their job to add Aaron into their ‘TO DATE’ lists.
‘Gah, I officially give up.’ Aaron slams down the onion and glares at it. If only it were living and looks could kill.
I chuckle and make an I-know-the-feeling face at him as he peeks into the other table’s work and smiles at Trisha Ann. At that, I feel a pang of annoyance and tell myself off for it. He’s not your damn boyfriend; I inform the bothersome voice in my head.
The bell rings and we’re saved from doing any actual work. Aaron high-fives me excitedly and we move back to our own seats as we start with Math.

My infuriation is raging after an hour and half of math and I complain about my inability to understand a single thing of the subject to Aaron.
‘Do I look like I care if sin/cos is cot?’ I ask him in disdain.
He gives me a cheer-up look and says, ‘It isn’t and you obviously don’t care.’
‘Damn straight I don’t.’
‘I could help you, you know, with Trigonometry,’ he offers with gentle kindness.
‘You would?’ I look at him with doubt, surprised.
‘Oh no, not really, I just offer to help out of leisure pursuit,’ Aaron snaps scathingly, giving me a filthy look.
I apologize grudgingly and Aaron rolls his eyes, with the hint of a smile.
Engrossed in our banter, we walk out of the class, parting ways as we reach the Gym.
I observe Aaron grinning toothily at the boys as he meets them with calm poise and take a moment to appreciate how very straight and white his teeth are.

Mindless and bizarre questions are fired at me the instant I walk into the Girls Locker Room.
‘Was that hot guy your boyfriend?’, ‘Gosh, does he have a private jet?’, ‘Chloe, what’s Aaron’s shoe size?’, ‘Do you think Aaron would like the pretzels I make?’, ‘Does Aaron like Sprite or Coke better?’ and blah-blah.
I inhale with profound contemplation and then, in a very sickened manner, tell them that Aaron and I are just friends who met earlier today.
I see Trisha Ann sport a beatific smirk as I say the words ‘just friends’ and endure a spasm of frustration for the 4th time in two hours, I suppose. How very spectacular!
I take a lot of time to change into my Gym outfit, anxious I might look obese and dreadful in front of Aaron, which was honestly the last thing I wanted right now.
When I at last manage to slip into my ancient, discolored and figure-hugging T-shirt, I go outside, once again, to stand dumbstruck as I watch Aaron looking gorgeous in his baggy gym shorts and perfectly fitted T-shirt. He acknowledges my presence with a titter and jogs to the Basketball court.

The day hurries by and all of a sudden Aaron and I are wayfaring back home, still babbling after 6 hours of school which weren’t as tedious as they usually are. I take in that today had been the most fun I’ve ever had in school.

I smile all the way to my house, lost in thoughts about Aaron, occasionally giggling softly. My frame of mind has taken a soar for the upwards and I am peaceful and in high spirits. As I ponder over the events of the day, I realize that I don’t know anything worthwhile about Aaron, other than his name and that’s he’s outrageously engaging. I make a note in my head to ask him heaps of questions tomorrow. Suddenly, I can’t wait to go back to school.
I come home to a yelling father and weak, weeping mother and my unbelievably fine mood is immediately ruined.
‘And you miss-good-for-nothing, where the hell have you been?’ My father points a finger at me and then at the clock which reads 4’o clock with prompt smugness.
‘School?’ I come back with and without waiting for the string of swear-words that follow my remark, trudge to my room where I bleed crimson tears. I mull over my father’s words. Am I really that insignificant? Do I deserve to be called a b**** on daily basis?
I am lost in my maddening and wretched thoughts for hours, trapped inside my messed up head, searching in frantic desperation for answers. Taking a trip down memory lane, I recall playing leisurely with my father, going to the cinema with him, perched contentedly on his shoulders, dancing horribly to the barmy and upbeat music he used to play on that battered old guitar of his, I remember him saying ‘I love you, beautiful’ every night to me without fail as he tucked me with tender lovingness into bed. Where had it all gone wrong?
One day we were all a happy family and the next it all changed for the worse. Violent fights, heated arguments, tears and cruel words. It hadn’t taken time for my perfect family to shatter into millions of minuscule pieces that, to date, remain unfound. We still lived under one roof but no one cared about being together. The love we all cherished was nowhere to be found; wherever I looked, all I found were unhappy memoirs and a sequence of blood-curdling lexis. I soon misplaced the tiny ember of hope I carried around and no matter where I looked (and still search) for it, it continues to be lost.
And once more I cry myself to sleep.

In the morning when I wake, the sun is coming through with warm optimism. I blink my heavy eyes and stretch in an arc before a smile creeps to my face as the thoughts of Aaron hit my stomach, making it leap with fervent exhilaration. My house is serene and silent, both my parents have left for work and Dakota is in unsounded slumber I do not wish to wake her from. I put on my uniform with feverish vigor, sling my bag over my shoulder and take off for school with a definite skip in my step. I decide resolutely that I wouldn’t let my nasty yesterday spoil another, brimming with sanguinity and newfound zeal, new day. I walk into the decrepit and tarnished building of GHS. The walls are packed with little pecks of lettering on every corner (how no teacher caught the children graffiti-ing the walls will forever be one of the unsolved mysteries of my life). “Sophie and Larry 4evah love”, “Mr. Fanning is a HOTTIE!”, “James is a dick.”, “and Brit is a slut.” Even though I’ve read these painted inscriptions hundreds of times, they transport me to an extraordinary place. I picture students of the 80s and 90s marveling their artwork and calling it ‘rad’. ‘Steve wears women’s underwear,’ Aaron strolls towards me, his intense eyes trained on the wall as he reads the scribblings. While he studies the wall with keen silliness, I struggle to keep my heart from dashing out my ribcage and nuzzling Aaron. Aaron snickers as he utters a quirky hi to me and says it’s good to see me again. I give an idiotic grin and we proceed slowly to class 304 with each other. ‘Is this your routine or something?’ Aaron looks at me with jokey bewilderment and asks, shaking my shoulders lightly. ‘Uh, WH—‘ ‘You fell asleep as soon as Biology begun,’ Aaron informs me with mock haughtiness followed by a tinkling laugh. ‘We’re supposed to work on yesterday’s pair-projects so rise and shine, Aurora, and become useful. I rise with trouble and heave a world-weary sigh, attempting to comprehend the text in my Biology book. ‘Good God, what in the name of sod is end-o, endo—‘ ‘Endochyma?’ Aaron tires with a meek smile and I nod. ‘Okay. Yeah, I’ve no clue.’ I get the giggles and burst into a side-splitting peal of laugher and Aaron tries to shut me up half-heartedly which makes me hoot even harder. ‘WHAT’S THE RUCKUS ABOUT, EH? GET BACK TO WORK.’ Mr. Winston, a short and stooping bald man with a frown invariably stuck to his thin-lipped mouth, our Biology teacher, says in a booming voice and buries his nose back his newspaper. By now, I’m doubling over with laughter, holding onto my tummy because my sides throb and so does my jaw. ‘Shush,’ Aaron grins, looking delighted. ‘Gosh, Chloe, it wasn’t even that hilarious. It wasn’t at all funny, to tell you the truth.’ Aaron seizes my hands and hauls me such that I’m facing him. I stand there, rooted to the spot while his touch makes my body spark and I feel a warm-emotion flooding through me. My laughter disappears and completely out of the blue, I feel uncontrollably shy. He brings his rich lips towards my ear, causing me to get goose bumps all over. ‘Shh, Chloe,’ he whispers delicately and retreats, bit by bit, letting go of my quivering hands. He’s just touching my fingers with his kind, sturdy hands as he looks up suspiciously and asks me about the white marks on my forearms. ‘Damn the bloody cat!’ I exclaim, attempting to be cool and nonchalant and avoiding any eye contact. ‘Really?’ He’s still giving me a doubtful look and his eyebrows are arched skeptically. ‘Yes, honestly,’ I lie through my back teeth. ‘Now let’s get back to work, come on!’ I busy myself with setting the apparatus and interpreting the procedure. Aaron gives up the dubious stare after a while and we toil wordlessly. The final bell rings and Aaron and I walk back in each other’s company with comfortable ease. ‘I’ll come over to your place at 7, then?’ Aaron inquires with a buoyant smile, ‘I copy down the Geography notes and teach you a bit of Trigonometry you’re so bloody awful at.’ When we’d made plans earlier this afternoon, I’d guessed I’d go over to Aaron’s, not the other way round. I want to invite him over so bad, but it isn’t possible for me to even think of bringing someone home to the deafening words and beating. ‘Uh, actually--’ I clear the lump in my throat and start speaking. ‘Alright, so, I’ll see you at 7!’ Aaron cuts me off before I’ve a chance to alter the plans and he bids me goodbye with a charming beam. My smile falters a bit and I continue to stagger on the leveled road, mustering up my courage to talk to my parents to please let there be harmony for a while. Oh, good God, what have I got myself into? I let out a fraught whimper, weighing down the possibilities of my friendship with Aaron to end on tremendously mortifying terms. The melodies of our jazzy doorbell and archaic clock strike a highly unusual harmony which reminds me of wailing banshees and I shudder with discomfort. Putting all the negative thoughts doing morose gymnastics and piling on one another inside my head, I leap to the door, holding it open as wide as my smile becomes after I soothe my energized and twisting nerves steal a look at Aaron. Out of the horrendous school uniform (even in which he manages to look like an A&F model). He’s dressed in loose and faded denim jeans and an immaculate plain white t-shirt. I quickly turn my gaze away before I start salivating and also to put my hanging jaw back into place. I invite him in with an unbelievable amount of gusto which surprises me even more greatly than him. But he seems equally ecstatic to see me and my heart flutters with untainted glee. I squeeze my eyes shut and cross my fingers with buoyant force. My parents had settled to hang about in silence and battle in hushed tones if they must for a bit, however nastily and calling me ‘an ungrateful b****’ at least five times in a span of the 10 minute break they’d taken from throwing blows at each other and the pitiable and conked out wall that bore the impact of my father’s clenched fists. ‘Can I sit down?’ Aaron asks me with meek obedience, with his eyes stuck intensely at the cracked wall. He looked like a giant puppy, adorable and docile. Snorting with humor, I say, ‘No, you’ll have to stand there all evening.’ Aaron perches himself on our cross-patched couch swiftly and beckons me to join him, laughing in that light and carefree way of his. I get seated next to him, opening my books and softly nibbling the end of my Scooby-Doo pen. ‘That’s where you insert the value of sin and convert it to—‘ I was swimming with dreamy bliss in his chocolate voice I wouldn’t mind drowning in for eternity. ‘—and that’s your answer!’ Aaron shoots me an expectant and questioning grin. ‘Uh, yeah, I get it, thanks’, I stammer with my eyes on the heliographic characters he’d penned down. ‘You’re still blank, aren’t you?’ Aaron winks with amused vexation. I’m about to come up with a clever retort when a high-pitched yell cuts my line of thought and Aaron looks at me with a worried expression, his face transformed from vivid and cheerful to concerned and fretful. Before I can make up a faker than Barbie and exceedingly exaggerated legend about our neighbors, my father comes out of the room, cursing with bated breath and latched on to my mother’s caramel locks. I swing my head towards my parents and shout with unforgiving hatred, ‘THANKS, THANKS SO MUCH’ and with torrential tears pouring down my kohl-rimmed eyes, I dart out of the house into the backwoods. I scuttle and Aaron sprints after me. I pick up more momentum, so ashamed and humiliated that I can’t bear to even look at Aaron or mull over what he’d just witnessed. My skin is crawling with the anticipation of a blade to make everything better but I keep running. Even when Aaron catches up with me and we’re jogging side by side and he’s begging me to talk to him and asking me to halt, sit and calm down, I scurry on, hands covering my eyes. I finally sit down with a big, knackered and harsh thud on a huge, beige rock and Aaron balances himself next to me. With tears stinging my eyes, I stare at the Sugar Maple trees that surround us. The atmosphere is cool and sweet but all I see is red everywhere my eyes dart. I’d asked my parents not to create a major scene for a couple of hours and they’d failed horribly. They’d let me down in ways they couldn’t even begin to imagine and they’d embarrassed me in front of the one person I thought worth knowing. It strikes me that Aaron’s still sitting next to me in silence. He hasn’t fled or called me and my dysfunctional family ‘a bunch of freaks!’ Neither has he given me the piteous look as yet. I realize it doesn’t, in fact, take years to depend upon, trust and believe in someone. When you meet someone who can see inside your soul, the both of you become inseparable and vulnerable from that moment on. Aaron puts a gentle hand on my cheek and turns to face me, gazing closely into my eyes. ‘Whom are you running from, Chloe?’ The answer is simple yet I can’t get it to come past the colossal knots in my throat. I’m getting away from myself because it’s my fault I’m so f*ed up. I am entirely to blame for everything ghastly that comes my way, it’s what I’m worthy of. His free hand, with one delicate slide, pushes up the sleeves of my favorite teal jumper to reveal the slices of anger and dejection and his thumb traces them carefully. ‘No matter how dark and thundering the cloud above your head may be, Chloe, you can always count on lightning to brighten things up,’ Aaron whispers with raw tenderness, his voice cracking slightly with emotion, ‘and that’s what I am. I’m your lightning.’ I sniff softly and nod my head as my numb fingers dig hard into the solid surface of the rock. Aaron’s warm and supple arm slides kindly along my back and I bury my head in the comfort of his chest, sobbing with now uncontainable reserves of pent-up sentiments. He pushes my face into the side of his neck and his agile hands stroke my wind-ruffled and tangled hair mildly and his mouth echoes ‘I’m here for you, it’s all going to be fine’ over and over. I scream, weep and gain reassurance from him until his proximity alleviates me enough to become conscious of how absolutely divine Aaron smells. Just his presence calms the hot blood gushing to my brain. For the first time in all the 17 years of my existence, my intolerably laden heart has taken its first but significant step towards faith in something other than it’s weighed down self.

Glorious rays of the sun shining with all its magnificent might aid leaves to sprout with their green freshness, dripping off the last few drops of pristine snow on them. I skip with wondrous glee, enthralled, looking at the untainted beauty of the nature. The sky is irresistibly blue, with clouds just like they are in cartoons, fluffy and round. I’m swirling hypnotically in an array of colors as flowers bloom from every crack on the worn out and trodden roads, each gap now a special and lovely color with butterflies hovering, chattering with merry gusto. They flutter their wings as a gust of warm, spring breeze hits their pretty, delicate wings.
The dreary cold winters have, without struggling in the least, given way to the gorgeous days of spring, full of cheer and colors.
The gleaming blades of grass, which I trod upon, glance up at me with annoyance and an air of surrender. The spiky grass scratches me a bit which makes voices in my head pound and hurl, bubbling with wrath and desperation. They ask for more, for better- deep cuts and blood, that’s what they’d like. I stick my chin outwards, as far as I can, to an extent where I look oddly constipated, but I continue anyway. ‘You’re better than this, Chlo’, I chant Aaron’s words to me like a mantra to help me get by, and I close my eyes and repeat.
Everything must give in to change, which is inexorable. Living in the past won’t make the future any happier. And that’s exactly what I’m trying to do – live in the present and change it.
I can’t recall falling asleep on that rock with Aaron’s affection giving me hope. I’m also absolutely clueless about the amount of time we sat there, huddled together in the balmy woods – it felt like my whole life passing by.
My friendship with Aaron touched an utterly different echelon that night and you know what the greatest thing is, when Aaron, in the gentle way of his, pushed his fingers into mine and woke me up with a beatific grin under the crimson sky at the break of dawn, we were completely at ease with each other, not even a trace of awkwardness in the fresh, sugary air. I’d never fully appreciated how breathtaking the forests of Winchester were until that bright morning with Aaron, two months ago. He’d made me promise to try to quit cutting as his hands covered my scars, and his words, ‘You’re better than this, Chloe’, have become my motivation to undertake the lengthy journey to love myself.
I smile to myself; it’s brimming with emotion and thankfulness – for Aaron.
In a relentlessly excellent mood, I bounce all the way to school- my long black locks, now even longer swinging behind me.