Olive walked into school, silently, hanging her head. Her clothes were ripped and filthy, her blonde hair was greasy and hanging over her limping stature. She shed a few tears as she entered the A. N. T farm, knowing that no one would ever understand her.
"Olive..." Fletcher whispered as he approached her.
No one except him.
"Olivia Daphney Doyle! Stop it. You know not to hurt yourself on purp-" Fletcher started to speak, but remembered that she didn't want everyone knowing. "Come over here." Fletcher patted the red couch. Olive growled, but she dragged her vicious self over.
He knows why she does it, and how. It all started when she was born, her brother Michael used to shake her violently. Everyone knows that you NEVER shake a baby. The result was a scar in the memory place in her brain, the result is her remembering that and everything she saw, heard, and read for the rest of her life.
She now looks at those memories and cuts her wrists. She saw someone do it on television, and she thought it would wash the pain away. But it only got worse from there- she couldn't stop.
Now she climbs into her friend Fletcher's embrace, as tears fall from both of their eyes. "'Liv," Fletcher whispers, using his nickname for her. He snakes his arm around her and pulls her close. "I cant watch you cry. Plus, this is our last year at the farm, I dont want the big kids adding to the pain."
Olive whimpered. "But I dont want A.N.T Farm to end. I want to stay here with you." she snuggled into Fletcher's embrace. He held her tigher. "You know" he spoke to her ear."Hair and makeup are a couple mediums of art."
He picked up one of Pailsey's old compacts, and gently touched the sponge to my face. This, Olive realized, was the beggining of a new life.