"I may be an animist, but that doesn't stop me from killing mosquitoes."

Where do I begin? With a name, a place, a destination? My name is of no importance to anyone; what they call me has nothing to do with who I am. You make a name for yourself. Though I guess if you really want to know, I may tell you that my name is Ashleigh (though I'd much rather be called Ash).

I'm not here to tell you who I am or what I do, or even what I like. I'm here to try and get a point across to anyone who will hear me. Don't let anyone try to bring you down. You are worth it; to someone, somewhere, you are worth more than anything. Be it God, if you have one, to know you are worth it, and if you don't have a god, I hope the world treats you well. The only people who will stick by you forever are your family, no matter what happens. There is more to life, as I have taken years to realize, than fiction. There is a world out there and you need to explore it.

Take chances. Be a little risky. Forget the past. Look to the future. Because if you don't, no one will.

THIS SPOILER WILL SELF-DESTRUCT WHEN I UPDATE THE NEXT CHAPTER.

I got some inpiration a few days ago for this little short. This is a Thank You Spoiler for the 5,000 views and 100 alerts on the one chapter of Ikuto! She's a Minor! I have released so far.

I lay softly on my bed and close my eyes. For the first time in months, I let my mind wander to him.

His eyes, always dark and mysterious. They held so many secrets he would never let me hold. His gorgeous orbs betrayed him all the time - they let me see what he never wanted me to know. . . . I missed his blue eyes.

His luscious, midnight hair. I loved the feel of his silky locks tickling my cheek. The way I would shiver in delight every time I ran my hands through his locks. . . . I missed the look I would get from him whenever I held onto them for dear life. . . .

Thinking about that night sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. My hands automatically went to my ribs as I tried to relive that night in my mind. I traced the patterns of swirls and hearts he left. . . . I missed them.

I let my hands wander lower, caressing my waist. I missed the blissful feeling I got from his light touches.

From there, my hands subconsciously moved to my hips. They weren't that curvy yet - I don't know what he liked about them. He spent so much time touching and tickling my hips. . . . I missed his playfulness.

I brought my hands up higher and brushed my not-so-impressive chest. I hadn't developed that much yet, but that didn't seem to bother him. They've grown more now, ever since he left. I can't remember if he touched me that much here, but I wish he had. I missed his unmoral self-control.

Forgetting about the rest of the world, I let my hands finally run over my stomach. My noticeably swollen stomach. My fingers tensed - he would never know what he did to my belly. He would never see what we created together. He wasn't coming back this time. A tear slid down to my ear.

I missed Ikuto.