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It's a new and fresh chapter :)
A S H L E Y
The extreme thoughts of dying couldn’t even comprehend the situation I was in. Being trapped in this hellhole wasn’t enough—on top of that, I had parents who pretended to be loving in front of the world, but behind the veil, they were anything but.
I am their own blood. Their own child. Still, there are moments when I have to suffocate—hide myself behind the curtains they’ve built for me. I have to obey. I have to agree with whatever they say. Whatever they order.
My life... it's not mine.
It's theirs.
Nothing in me feels like it belongs to me.
Still, I try. I try to make little moments mine, bit by bit.
My hands draw patterns on the white sheet, now stained in pastel colors. I dream of placing them in my own exhibition someday—not selling them off like commodities to my parents’ business friends, which they do every single time.
I believe... one day, someone will understand the value I pour into my colors. Someone will look at me with the eyes I’ve always yearned for.
Because I’ve never known love. Not even once.
Maybe... just maybe... I’ll find it one day.
Who knows?
"Ashley!"
My brush stopped mid-stroke. Panic rose in my chest like a tide—I felt trapped, frozen in place. That voice calling out to me... it was almost like a siren’s call, but one that dragged me into despair, not wonder.
"Yes?" I replied softly.
Yes—that’s how I’m supposed to speak. Softly. Gently.
Not with defiance.
Not with immoral dominance or power.
Not like someone who dares to hold her head high.
"Ashley! Oh, you’re here again. Come downstairs—we have an important conversation to talk about," my mother called out.
She’s the living definition of elegance—perfect and toned, the kind of woman anyone would envy. I share her facial features—the same eyes, the same shape of lips—but not her body.
