concealer // a.i.

5 // verbal.

ashton pulled away from farrah the second she began to tug away his shirt. their lips disconnected and ashton moved away slightly.

farrah's eyes opened slowly.

"i'm not doing this with you," ashton told her. a blush spread across farrah's cheeks as she realised she'd been rejected. "plus, we're in the library."

"fine." she got up from her seat opposite ashton's and picked up her bag. as she turned away, ashton spoke. "wait."

she spun around on her heel. "what?"

"i'll call you later, yeah? i don't want you to do anything stupid." ashton spoke carefully. farrah's eyes narrowed.

"over you? don't make me laugh," she spat, before turning back around and walking fast, bursting through the double doors in haste to get away.

outside, farrah wiped away her tears. she felt humiliated. yet she didn't understand what possessed her to kiss ashton, or try and take things further.

when farrah finally made it home, the yelling became audible, and almost deafening. she ignored it.

"farrah!" she turned to the kitchen, where her mother was emerging, angry. "where were you? don't tell me you were with another boy, huh?" farrah closed her eyes and sighed.

her mother's eyes blazed. "you whore!" she yelled. "i'm sick and tired of you doing this! what are you, a prostitute? huh? you don't do anything! how is your little sister going to turn out if her older sibling is a useless hooker?"

"enough, please," farrah felt her eyes prick with tears.

she ran upstairs, her mother still rambling about what an 'awful' daughter she had.

farrah locked her door, and pulled open the drawer with her clothing tightly packed. rummaging through, she kept going, until she found the corner, and pulled out her blade.