Love and Pain

Chapter One: Don't Stare

(Aiden's PoV)

I always had mixed feelings about school. I loved it. I was one of those rare cases, I suppose. I loved everything about school. Loved learning. Loved the prospect of learning, and I loved my teachers, who actually seemed excited about teaching. They were passionate, even though the majority of the students didn't seem to care, or pay attention in class. I loved the environment, too. My school was so beautiful. And it was a great place to people watch. Most of the time I liked to think of the student body as the basis of a... Social experiment. And the school housed it all. I thought that was fun, and it was just one of the many reasons I really did enjoy going. Watching other people my age interact and live their lives was fun. I had many other reasons as to why I loved going to school, too... When I had just begun my high school journey. But now that I was a Junior... Let's just say that over the years, the list had dwindled quite a bit. My high school might have had a deceptive veil draped over it, I suppose. I know it did. It was beautiful, yes, and the teachers were great, yes, and much was to be learned, yes, and students always seemed to get along, yes but... Bullies were prevalent. There was an obvious social ladder, and it was a painful climb to the top. That was one of the reasons why I hated school. The different cliques were so solid in their different 'rules and belief systems' that it was hard to make friends. Rumors ran rampant, and if you took one wrong step, you were done for. Unfortunately for me, every step I took in my freshman year was the wrong one. And here I was, miserable. So miserable in fact, that I woke up every morning feeling sick, tired, anxious, and dreading the day. Every morning seemed to get worse.

This morning was no different. In fact, it did feel worse.

My alarm had gone off a good ten minutes ago, but there I still stayed, laying in my bed and staring up at the ceiling. It was white. Like every other room in the house. I had wanted to paint it a pretty, calming color of purple, but my father refused to give me that pleasure, like he did with most things. I sighed, quietly cursing the blankness of the white in my head.

I was snapped from my thoughts when an aggressive knock shook my door. I nearly jumped out of my skin and the sharp noise. "What?" I croaked, my normally soft, shy voice sounding more rough and 'masculine' from not yet being fully awake. "Come on! You're wasting time! If you don't hurry your ass up I'm going to leave without you!" My brother could never be pleasant, for some reason. I rolled my eyes and listened to him storm off, muttering a "fucking annoying little piece of shit prick son of a bitch..." as he left. I could tell that half way through he wasn't even trying to come up with any sort of insult anymore... He was just angry, and was spewing nonsense. I gently bit my bottom lip, holding in a laugh.

As my brother had wanted, I finally got out of bed and got ready for the day. Grabbing my normal, bland looking clothes, I hurried into the bathroom and started my shower. I was pretty quick with it, as usual, and managed to get out and dry off within ten minutes or so. Quickly I got dressed and, with a damp towel in hand, wiped away the steam from the mirror. And there I was, staring back at myself. I looked away and grabbed a comb, dragging it through my long, jet black hair unforgivingly. It got so tangled...

Once my hair was... Somewhat tidied, I set my comb back in its place and, before leaving the bathroom, gave myself one more glance in the mirror. I don't know why I did it, really... Every time I looked at myself I just began to feel more... Ohh, I never knew what to call it. Depressed? Ashamed? Maybe those, and more. I don't know why I couldn't be handsome like my brother Stephen. Sure, he had a bad attitude, but he was attractive. Somehow I felt that that was a better deal. Maybe it was just because I had felt so ugly for so long. How could one blame me, though? I was small and pale, and unfortunately dainty looking. In fact, quite a few people mistook me for a girl, or young woman. It was embarrassing. I guess it didn't help that I was Asian, either. Most of my family (other than Stephen) were on the shorter side, and our features were always soft. And... Yeah, alright, it probably didn't help that my hair was long, either. It was starting to grow past my shoulders, and my bangs were starting to get into my face a little too much, too. I knew someone was going to comment on that sooner or later. Might as well prepare for it now.