Chapter Text
The girl is shedding endless tears, and she can feel the bitter flavor of rage, sadness and despair when those run down her lips and fall from her chin. She has no other option, after all. Her mental health is decaying day by day and she has decided to finally put her misery to an end by escaping the main source of her problems.
Sobbing, she closes the zipper of a black school bag that has the motive of two swords crossing each other carefully sewn on it, which are obviously handmade; one of them being red, and the other, blue. She treasures that silly little bag so much, so of course she's gonna take it with her even if it's the end of the world.
She walks down the stairs wearing said backpack, trying to be sneaky while her parents are fighting in the kitchen. Again. Of course they are. They wouldn't hear her anyway due to their loud screams and insults directed to each other, so the freshly fifteen year old daughter who was planning to escape in that moment didn't even have to try to be silent. And she's lying to herself, because deep down she already knows that even if her parents loved each other and didn't fight, they would still ignore her, no matter if she made the most defeaning noise ever or if she just plainly needed them as their daughter. You know, the bare minimum. The bar was literally on the floor, and somehow the parents of the blonde girl didn't reach it either way.
"Is this my fault?" She thinks. "Maybe I've done something wrong long ago, or, or- just a clump of things throughout all my life, and that's why I get treated this way- Yeah, that must be it! It's the only logical explanation for that." Bullcrap, she's completely aware that some parents are just not fit for being parents. Some of them are plain assholes, like in her unfortunate case. But it's more painful to think that there isn't a reason at all behind the lack of their actions and words, so she often makes up excuses to fill that void, even if it means putting the blame on herself.
Nonetheless, there was always a tinch of jealousy pounding on her chest whenever she saw parents attending their child's middle school graduation, or when she went on trips to the mall and descried mothers and daughters shopping together. Damn it, even just hearing her classmates complain about how their parents grounded them made her feel like shit. Because she has never experienced something like that before, and it hurts. It hurts so fucking much feeling that different from the others, which is undeniably a lonely and outrageous experience that separates you from the rest of the world whether you like it or not.
She shuts her eyes and grips her fists so hard the heels of her palms are getting scratched. "Am I that... worthless? Undeserving of love?" Her whole body tenses up, and suddenly her shoulders feel so heavy.
The teenager clenches her teeth firmly, almost as if she were regretting her decision, accompanied by a concerning amount of salty tears rolling down her face. She finally opens her eyes and exits from the front door, getting out of that hell of a house and running as fast as she can. She doesn't even know where she would go or what she would do now, the only thing she knows is that she wants to be far. As far away from home, if you can call that home, as possible.
...
After a few nights sleeping on park benches and trees, she finds herself under a bridge, hiding from the pouring rain. She's searching through her backpack and clicks her tongue, annoyed, when she realizes something important.
"Shit, I don't have any food left. All the skittles and chip bags are already gone. There isn't any Coke remaining either... Fuck."
She sighs as she tosses her backpack away, hugging herself to create a natural form of heat, since she's freezing cold and her black denim jacket is soaked. She should have brought more clothes, right? That white and red hoodie she always wears isn't enough to make her feel completely warm... and why out of all choices did she have to choose ripped jeans? She kicks a rock, regretting having such a cool style when she needs a surviving fashion sense instead. And that's when she notices that her ruby-coloured converse are just as dirty as the rest of her clothes. Should she steal some new ones? She could also make use of some provisions, too...
The girl gets up and puts on her wet jacket, with two little badgets on its right side shining bright. Deciding to ignore those shivers, she grabs her backpack and starts running towards a shop she has been watching for a while.
The little bells hung above the door make their characteristic sound when the blonde fugitive enters the place, announcing the arrival of a new customer. Surprisingly, she isn't welcomed by anyone, although it's not like she greeted or even looked at the cashier either way. She goes straight to the candy shelves and saves a chocolate bar on her bag, careful of not being caught. Glancing at the cash register, she smiles to herself when she notices that no one is there. What a perfect opportunity!
She heads to the place and manages to open it right away, it was a piece of cake for her. Everything is going according to her plan and she's overjoyed right now. She quickly starts to seize as much money as she can, when an angry voice suddenly startles her.
"Hey! That's not yours, you little brat! Come back here!" An adult shouts as the young thief fastly runs away with money on her hands, trying to secure it on the insides of her jacket.
She pushes people that are on the way while she's being persecuted by the cashier through numerous streets. The girl turns her head once she hears an unknown noise, noticing how he ended up falling to the floor. She grins and leaves a mischievious giggle come out of her mouth, thus it's interrupted by her crashing against a human figure in front of her.
It's a guy who seems two or three years older than her, smirking. He's taller, stronger and scarier than her. His clothes are full of sweat, his hair is greasy and he has a mustache that doesn't fit his not-so-graceful face at all. She slowly steps back, planning to run again, but she's got her ponytail grasped by another disgusting dude. She lets a little shriek leave her lips, tussling to let go of the hand holding her hair.
"We've heard the commotion. So you stole all the money from that dumbass, didn't you? Heh. Search in the bag." The frightening guy commands, making another boy the same age as him come out from his hiding spot and get closer to the fugitive girl.
"No, wait! Don't open it!" She exclaims while being held in the air. In this moment, she's regretting so much wearing a ponytail.
She is soon interrupted by a sharp object making contact with her right cheek. The girl's whole body quickly goes stiff when she realizes that the previous item is actually a pocket knife, and that this action is being made by the big guy who has henchmen serving him.
A single myrmidion, the one who's holding her by her hair, opens the bag and slowly empties it out, stating his discoveries out loud and handing them to the coward one who recently came out.
"An empty Coke bottle, wrappings of skittles, finished chips... A chocolate bar? Boss, there isn't any money here."
The blondie knows this is her chance. She kicks the mustache dude in the balls, who instantly reacts by cutting her cheek and almost falling to the floor. She sucks up the burning pain and then elbows the minion who is behind her, freeing her from his grasp. The girl grabs the chocolate bar from the shocked boy's hand and proceeds to do what she's best at: running away.
...
She leans against a wall, panting and trying to catch her breath. She smiles as she remembers the ugly faces they made when she kicked their asses, slowly sliding to the floor until she ends up being sat there.
Taking advantage of her now relaxed and, apparently, safe state, she takes off her backpack to look tenderly at it, relieved to have it back. It was a gift from a precious friend she had some years ago that unfortunately had to move away. She looks closely at the stitched swords: in a corner of the blue one there's some tiny text that reads as "Sasha and Anne ♡". Sasha sighs at the sudden melancholy that is arising in her chest.
"Oh, Anne, I miss you so much... If you were here, everything would be easier. I wonder what you're up to now... If you still lived in our old neighborhood, maybe I could have just gone to your place instead of going all the way down to a whole ass different city, heh. You don't know how hard it's been..." She can't stop staring at the small text written with a black permanent marker, pretending she's actually talking to Anne. It's a common habit she's had for years, since her best friend's parting made her loneliness sky rocket. "Hmm. Right now, we would be planning our next sleepover and I'd ask you which color do you want for your manicure. Of course, you'd choose blue nail polish, as you always did, and then you'd invite me to your parents' restaurant where we would end up feeding your mom's food to your cat because we'd be already full from eating two gigantic bowls of popcorn. Mrs. B would get mad at us, but somehow Mr. B always ended up pacifying her. Man, it was like an instant magic trick! Say hello to them for me." She strokes the blue sword as she hums, feeling her eyes welling up. "But you know what? You always said that I was a bad bitch, and I am. I'm the biggest, baddest bitch out there. Bad bitches don't cry, am I right? Of course I am, duh!"
The teenager giggles at the reminiscence of her best friend's absurd comments, trying to convince herself with that. She knows that if Anne was here, she would be like "Oh, Sash, shut up, you know that's not what I mean. Stop bottling your feelings, dude, it's not healthy for you to do so."
Yes, that's exactly what she'd say. She even thinks about it with her voice, which makes her laugh even more. After a few seconds, she becomes quiet and sniffs as she opens the melting chocolate bar.
"This one is for you, Boonchuy. Cheers."
She devours it, throwing the paper to the floor and wiping her now dirty hands on the wall.
She is about to stand up when a manly deep voice rings in her ears.
"What the fuck are you doing in my house?" A grumpy old man in his forties, with a huge scar, a blind eye and a white beard asks her.
Oh, shit. Not this again.
She almost forgot that jumping a fence to avoid a gang would make her possibly land in a random person's yard. And, as the cherry on top, she's dirtying it. She obviously has to escape again, therefore she rapidly observes the entirety of her surroundings to plan how to get away as quick as possible.
"Wait. You're bleeding." He spots, the man is scanning her from head to toes, squinting his eyes. "I'll be here in a second. Don't you dare go away or I'll call the police, understood?"
Sasha gulps, scared he might have read her mind. Dealing with the police was the last thing she'd want to do now, so it was definitely more convenient to stay here. Hopefully, he wouldn't kill her afterwards. She awkwardly stares at him while he disappears from her sight, entering his house.
"Bleeding?" She mutters to herself. She cups her own cheek and winces, swiftly removing it to view her now red stained hand. The pain is absolutely horrible. She turns her rasped palms to see her pulsating, bloody knuckles. She assumes it is from punching the guy's buff arm when he was holding her ponytail. "Dang, he was resistant as fuck. What a pain in the ass. I should have thought of my elbowing technique waaay earlier..." She caresses her own hand with a thumb, regretting not thinking about it sooner. "Well, at least those imps kept my trash. Good riddance."
The grouchy housekeeper returns with some bandages, cotton, tweezers and a bottle of something Sasha has no idea what it is. He comes close to her, putting a small amount of liquid on the cotton pad and picking it up with his tweezers, nearing it to the girl's main wound on her cheek. She retreats and makes a grimace, clearly avoiding the healing kit.
"Woah there, I'm not gonna hurt you. Do you really want to walk around with an infected wound? You're still young, don't ruin your face like that or you'll end up like me." He expresses, looking at Sasha in the eye. She stares at him (and his enormous scar) for a few seconds until she finally gives in and lets him cure her.
"Shit, that stings."
He lets out a surprisingly warm yet cranky laugh. "Yeah, it better sting or that'd mean it isn't working. How did you end up like this? You're full of blood." The man carefully places bandages on Sasha's knuckles.
She frowns. Why is he being so nosy? It's none of his business. But maybe she should tell him, he's helping her after all. ...Wait, she didn't even ask him for his help. She doesn't owe him anything. In fact, he's just a boring adult who's probably doing this just to feel better about himself, so why is she being so quiet and peaceful right now? Why is she acting just like he wants her to? She isn't like this at all, so she decides to change the ambience a bit by showing him a powerful attitude and trying to put him in his place.
"You see, I did your mom last night and she was on her period. Wanna know all the details, Mr. I think healing a kid makes me a good person?"
He stares at her dead in the eye, with no reaction at all, which makes her a little nervous. He sighs, replacing the cotton pad from her cheek with a new one, pouring that hideous liquid over it again.
"Listen, kid, I don't know what happened to you nor where you come from, but... If you need a place, here you have one. As long as you don't throw your shit on my yard again, of course." The man stares at the chocolate wrap laying on the floor, making Sasha shift her focus there, too. "I have food, an extra bed and a shower. And, speaking of that... Here you go, your face and hands are full of chocolate."
He pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to her. She squints her eyes, suspicious, and slowly cleans herself, glancing at him all the time.
"How can I know that I can trust you?" She spits.
"You can't."
And just like that, she rises her eyebrows, sceptical and incredulous.
"What the actual..."
"Go on, run away again. But if you ever feel like coming back, you know where to find me. The name's Grime, by the way."
Sasha scoffs. "Grime? What kind of name is that?" She thinks. He slowly slides a little piece of paper with the house's address written on it in her jacket's pocket.
She doesn't know what to do nor what is happening right now. In one hand, he's acting nice and he doesn't seem to have bad intentions. No one, aside from Anne and her parents, has ever offered to take care of her before, so this was weird in a positive way. In the other hand, coming back there would be like admitting her defeat, showing weakness. And that's something Sasha hates with all her guts. Plus, he could be a secret serial murderer or something, he's a complete stranger with a weird name after all.
So she stands up and gets close to the fence she previously used for breaking in his house, turning one last time to look at Grime.
"Why are you doing this?" She asks. She's trying to sound menacing, but her tone only shows the curiosity of an inner child who's being treated nicely for the first time in what seems like forever.
He drifts his sight to the floor, in silence. After a few seconds, he opens his mouth.
"I guess you remind me of my younger self..." For some reason, that makes Sasha's heart ache. Did she judge him too soon? "By the way, that wound is going to leave a scar."
"Oh. Fuck." Great, another reason to be ashamed of herself. Add this new insecurity to the list!
She bites her lip, feeling guilty for how she treated him just a few moments ago. For some reason, she senses the urge to apologize in the back of her head, but Sasha never says sorry. She's not the kind of person who is good with words, emotions and all that shit. She's usually the punch your feelings out guy.
She turns away and jumps the fence once again without a thank you, sorry or goodbye, hating herself for not being able to do so.
...
Sasha is currently aimlessly walking through the streets, without a specific goal in mind and wondering what she'd do now, remorse eating her up. She stops on her feet when she sees a big, fancy sign. "Saint James High School" is written on it. She looks up and catches a glimpse of the biggest and most elegant school she's ever seen. The blonde scoffs, annoyed.
"Oh, I see, so this is one of those prissy private schools for rich children whose parents baby nonstop. What a bunch of assholes. I bet they don't even learn anything here, they have their whole life perfectly planned by their mommies and daddies anyway." She ponders.
And then, a magnificient idea crosses her mind, causing her to smirk. This was perfect to distract herself from her self-deprecating thoughts and have fun for a while. Yeah, this will show Grime that she doesn't need him! She can be fine on her own, just like she's always been! It absolutely isn't to convince herself, pft. What makes you think that?
One of the things that being alone has taught her was to be able of being the queen of the world. Or, at least, of the street. She had learned to climb walls, trees, streetlights, walk and even run on roofs, jump long distances, and a lot more during her whole youth. That way, she could feel powerful observing how the people she hated now looked like ants from afar, and it was also one of her coping mechanisms. Whenever she felt sad, she'd just climb the roof of her old bedroom and stare at the moon for hours.
And, of course, she was going to apply that to this situation. She glances at the building's windows and realizes that one of them has a tree nearby, so she goes ahead and breaks in the school's terrain, searching for that specific tree. Luckily, nobody was outside nor seemed to notice her presence there. She finds it at last and climbs the tree, proud of herself, reaching the top in less than a minute. She has access to an entire class of people who seem to be around her age through a window right now, so she decides to watch them and prepare herself to make fun of them.
As she expected, no one is paying attention to the class. All the students are loudly chatting, making awful jokes or running around. Worst of all? The teacher doesn't even seem to care. All the pupils were wearing a uniform, for example, the girls wore a white shirt with a sleeveless blue cardigan on top, accompanied by an also blue and checkered ribbon on their necks, under their shirt's collar. Their short skirts were made with the same fabric as the previously mentioned ribbons, and to end the outfit they wore some white socks and brown loafers. The boys' uniform was exactly the same, except they replaced the ribbon with a tie and the skirt with pants.
Sasha is about to comment on how stupid they look, when suddenly someone catches her eye, causing her to widen them. This person is different from the rest, with an almost shining pure aura that blinds her and makes her heart shake.
It's a short and black-haired girl who isn't acting like a wild animal. She's actually studying, neatly sat, and she seems pretty concentrated. "Those pricks should learn from her." She mutters to herself.
The blonde observes her more carefully than she would like to admit, memorizing all her little details unconsciously. She has noticed that she's wearing a green hairclip, and that she slightly sticks her tongue out in a corner of her mouth when she reads something that, apparently, she's interested in; thing she assumes because the window girl starts scribbling and taking notes passionately after doing so.
"Oh, that's a cute habit. I wonder if she's aware of it. Her skin is also so nice and her hair looks so silky." Sasha smiles at her own thoughts, not even realizing it. "Is that why her classmates don't talk to her? Are they envious of her?"
Of course, she picks up that everyone is talking to each other but no one dares to start a conversation with her. Sasha used to be horrible at reading the room, but growing up in a household where her parents didn't bother to communicate with her forced her to learn how to do so, and now she just does it naturally. Analyzing her face structure for the millionth time, she acknowledges that the window girl is actually really pretty, so external envy sounds like a good answer to that question. Or maybe they just see her so concentrated that they don't want to bother her. She hopes it's the last theory.
"Wait, why am I thinking about how pretty she is or about how I hope her classmates don't ignore her? I came here to make fun of these idiots with a stick up their asses, not to theorize or worry about some random girl. Am I dumb or what? Wake up, Waybright! This isn't you!" She feels a heavy wave of heat rising to her cheeks, and she proceeds to shake her head and slap herself out of shame with the hope of getting out of that hellish trance. Fuck. She repositions herself between the huge branches of the tree to regain her composure, totally not to be able to look at her better and from a different angle.
"Of course not, I just feel a tinsy bit of curiosity because she's acting like a normal person, unlike the others. That's it. She's just the most decent one out there. And the most aesthetically pleasing, I guess..."
Ugh, the more she thinks about it, the less believable it sounds. She covers her stressed stomach (fuck butterflies, she's never liked them) with a hand, making a facepalm with the other at the same time. This whole situation is so stupid and surrealistic, and she's starting to get mad at herself.
"Is this what love at first sight is?"
Just thinking about it makes her nauseous. The butterflies would have to fight her vomit real soon if she doesn't look away already, but there's just something about her that mysteriously draws her in, not letting her drift her sight from the raven haired girl.
As if she heard her, the window girl turns to Sasha, slowly blinking with those long eyelashes and a confused face. In this moment, the blonde's heart is fluttering, jumping, dancing and doing backflips.
That's when she notices that the window is open, and also that she accidentally said that out loud. So maybe she did hear her.