[WARNING: This story is rather dark, nothing too bad yet, but I would like to warn you all that if you completely against child abuse it would be best not to read this. However, I do promise the story gets better with time. But it does start bad. Thank you~]
She had long fine black hair reaching down to her mid back in elegant waves and veiled large icy blue eyes, concealing most of her dark emotions. No one would ever know by looking at her that the words everyone whispered always hit their mark. She was frail by nature and kept to herself as she had been taught but the silence of her world screamed at her.
“ Stand up Alison.” “Walk straight Alison.” “Look at me when I talk to you Alison.” “Do better Alison.”
The voices and the memories buzzed in her head as she watched her feet silently move over the marble floor of the schoolhouse. The floors were always so clean despite armies of small children constantly soiling them with mud or snow or anything else they could find. The lonely black haired child, Alison, made her way to her assigned classroom. She didn’t want to go there, she already knew what was waiting and she hated it.
Thousands of beady little eyes watched her enter, each and every one of them judging her, looking down on her, hating her. “Alison, you’re late again.” Even the kind teacher looked at her with those same dark, hateful eyes she’d grown accustom to. “Take your seat so the rest of us can begin.”
Clutching her child sized messenger bag close to her chest, little Alison made her way to the towering desk, climbed into it and tried to settle herself in. All around her she could hear the venomous, chiding whispers.
“She’s always late.” “No wonder she’s so stupid.” “I bet her parents don’t love her.” “I wouldn’t.”
Alison rubbed her eyes to stop the threat from surfacing and decided to focus on drawing in her little sketchpad. How many days now had she wished this would all end? Home wasn’t an escape from this, nowhere was.
”Stupid girl.”
The time ticked away slowly until the children finally focused on the lesson and not on the forgotten, hated child. This left time for the child to get lost in a world she enjoyed, her sketchpad. She drew countless pictures of all things, finally feeling a prong of joy in her cold heart. However when the bell for lunch and recess rang and all the children burst from their chairs in a dizzy array of joy and laughter, she sighed, wishing to remain lost in her world.
Alison was careful to pick up all of her things and store it in her bag. She couldn’t bear the thought of damaging the pictures she loved and all the prized memories that bag held. “Father…” Her little voice hardly made it above a murmur as caressed a photo of a tall man in an army suit. The man was smiling at her; he was always smiling at her. He loved her and he told her so. Why was it fair for life to take him away from her, ship him overseas and distance him from the daughter that needed him so much? She asked herself that every day and every night.
“It’s time to go outside with the other children now Alison. Run along now. I don’t like seeing you in here. Get.” The teacher’s voice was soft and understanding but her words betrayed the tone. Her words dug into the child's heart, not even trying to hide the teacher's true feelings. Defeated, the small girl sighed and headed out the door with her bag slung over her shoulder.
Outside held nothing for her either. Other children would run and play in the bright October sun but when she tried to join they would all look at her with those eyes and spit more hot venom at her until she had to turn and leave. So instead of suffering the humiliation of socializing with others, Alison decided the only thing there was to do outside was read. She dug into her bag and pulled out another treasure, a comic book titled “Batman” that was the only gift she had ever been allowed to receive.
The child flipped through the pages of black and white blocks and dots, absorbing the story she knew by heart. A superhero with no super powers, a man black a night but bright as day, that man was everything she wished she could be, and more. Her time was easily lost to the dark, enlightening story and she found herself smiling in spite of how she felt earlier.
Alison had so completely lost herself in the tales of the dark angel that she hadn’t heard the teacher call the class in for the end of the day. “Alison, I said come in now.” The teacher’s harsh words snapped the child out of her blissful trance and reminded her reality. She was quick to stash away her secret world before acknowledging the older woman.
All the little black haired child did was nod and rise from the bench to join the class inside. The kids bounced happily, gathering their things and excitedly awaiting their parents. While the class was distracted with leaving, little Alison ducked down and snuck out of the class. Her mother would never come to pick her up so she had to always make the mile or so trek home alone. She didn’t mind the walk though. Most of the time nothing bad ever happened along the winding, forest-cloaked path.
Alison looked all around her at the tall dark trees and brightly lit sky. The path home was beautiful. It was always well lit by the glistening sun and filled with the rhythm of nature. A tiny scenic park stood between the child and her destination, filled to the fenced-in brim with friendly animals, tall trees and koi fish packed ponds. Alison almost always looked forward to the calming walk, except for when three older boys waited for her with malicious intent written clearly in their expressions.
A taller dark haired boy, likely a fourth grader, strode up to the gloomy child with a smug grin painted on his lips. Behind him trailed two little redheads with countless freckles, one had bright aqua blue eyes and the other had energetic amethyst purple eyes. All three boys wore evil masks. Their leader smirked. “Out for a walk, little freak?” Instinctively the small girl curled into herself, hugging her body tightly. “Oh, don’t feel like talking to us? That hurts our feelings you know.” He paused long enough to notice her leather messenger bag. “What’s in the bag hm?”
Alison gathered her bag up in her arms, trying to protect it from the hungry gazes. The bold brunette chuckled a demonic sound. “Logan, Landon, come on, let’s see what’s in her bag. Grab her.” The girl squeaked as her arms were taken hostage by the twin redheads while their ringleader laughed. “What’s so special in here?” He ripped the bag off her, being sure the strap was torn in the process, and dug through her precious belongings. “Hn, nothing. Only books and papers. This is as lame as you are.”
The girl wriggled and squirmed and pleaded for them not to hurt anything; that bag and its contents meant the world to her. However the boys just laughed in her tear stained face. “Let’s ditch her and this bag.” The dark brunette simply tossed the precious bag into a nearby pond, watching with a wicked grin as it sank to the bottom. At that moment the ginger twin decided it was the right time to release their prisoner and leave with their friend, snickering blissfully the entire way.
Alison gathered up her long pink sundress and dove into the pond, fighting fish and weeds to reach her bag. Tears mixed with murky water on her cheeks but she resiliently whipped it away. The nasty fish made sure she didn’t stay in their pond long. Fish were scary. Once on land again the unfortunate child dug through her bag, praying that its contents had remained safe. That wasn’t the case. Every book and paper and drawing was soaked and utterly destroyed.
Worst of all the picture of her beloved father wasn’t in the bag. The boys probably took it as another attempt to make her cry. It worked. The small girl curled up on the fresh fall grass and bawled quietly, ashamed and scared. Her heart ached as though someone was squeezing it tightly. It was unfair; she had already lost her father, now she lost her only memory of him too. Time melted into her tears and before she knew it the sun began to burn with the promise of night.
Finally drained of all potential tears, Alison rose to her feet, gathered up her waterlogged bag and trudged home. The forest opened its gates for her to pass through and she was able to get home quickly. The twisting stone steps up to her house proved difficult to traverse with her wet dress and bag weighing her down but she managed to make it to the modest wooden home.
Alison paused at the door, knowing her mother would be furious with her. Perhaps it was safer to sleep outside. Against her better seven year old judgment the beaten child opened the door and entered her beautiful home. Wooden walls surrounded her and she knew she would feel safe in their hold, but she didn’t. A tall, regal looking woman approached her daughter with a calm anger growing behind her. Alison looked just like this woman, same eyes, same hair, same face, identical in every way minus age. The mirroring eyes looked at the child up and down.
“You filthy little creature, what are doing dragging mud into my home?” The woman’s voice had remnants of an angel’s glow but was obscured by her devilish words and feelings. “Go shower and change at once! I don’t want to have to look at this revolting mess any longer. No cold water. Fix yourself immediately Alison.”
The child did as she was instructed to and though the water burned her skin it was better than what her mother wanted to do as punishment. Following her blisteringly hot shower, she tried to put on her cotton nightgown and untangle the ebony waves stuck to her red skin. Salt on an open wound couldn’t compare to this pain and humiliation. From down the stairs her mother’s divine voice rang out. “Alison Christine, hurry up! It shouldn’t take you this long to do something so simple.” She mumbled one last word but Alison was able to catch it. “Incompetent.” Though she wished she hadn’t.
The rest of the night saw more pain and torture for the little raven colored preschooler, courtesy of her beautiful mother. When it all finally ended she tried to escape to her world but it was drowned in murky pond water. All she could do was watch as more drops of salty water found their home on the mess of blacks and grays that used to be a riveting story of adventure and heroism. Besides, heroes weren’t actually real. If they were, they would have saved little, lonely Alison already. At long last drowsiness took hold of the child’s weary blue eyes and pulled her into a weightless darkness, ending her agony for that night.
