Hi everyone! I'm back again with another chapter, and one I hope you'll enjoy. I originally never thought that this story would gather any attention outside of my typical readers; I'm very grateful that it's gotten noticed moreso than I originally thought it would. I guess it just goes to show that people want the unexpected.

Shoutouts:

Alina 122 - Aww, you're so sweet! This comment made my heart swell; it makes me so happy to know that people love my writing. I'll check your story out, too :). If you want a beta, I'd also be happy to do it; shoot me a PM.

gio08 - Yeah, it's sure gonna be a kick to the face when she discovers the real reason for his solitude. Thank you!

JordanMax - Misty really is honestly what Ash needs; he needs someone who he can push away and yet she'll still keep on coming back. And yeah, it's good that her parents like him, since that would have made it rather cliche if they didn't lol

ShinyJuJu - Thank you!

The featured story for this chapter is Pokemon Platinum by SoulfulGinger17. "In this novelization of the game, Lucas Diamond is thrown into an adventure the likes of which he has never even dreamed of. With the aid of Leif, his trusty Turtwig, Lucas travels throughout the Sinnoh Region to conquer the Pokemon League, as well as stop the evil Team Galactic's plans for world domination." I decided to try something different this time by recommending a novelization of one of the games. Check it out.

This story currently has 30 reviews, 35 favorites, and 36 followers. Thank you!

Whenever you see a ~ in bold followed by either an M or an A, it signifies a POV change.

~ "Solitude vivifies; isolation kills." ~

- Joseph Roux

I think it was that Tuesday in May when things started to change.

It started rough that morning when I woke to the sound and sight of my crazed father storming into my bedroom. He picked me up by my shirt collar, swung me out of bed, and threw me against the wall. I had to stay there, pinned and helpless, as he smacked me and screamed in my face to the point of breathlessness. It wasn't until there was blood trickling out of the corner of my mouth that he finally put me down and told me to get my ass off to school.

Then, on the bus some kid decided it would be funny to dump his blue Gatorade over my head. I ended up late to first period because I had to spend twenty minutes in the school bathroom trying to get the sugary shit out of my hair and the redness out of my face. Of course, my teacher had to give me detention for it, which I was sure would just tickle my father silly.

Then came Chemistry.

And her.

The moment I saw her, I angrily began rambling to her about what had happened. The words came out rather unintentionally; I'd been meaning to save them for later when I had a silent teddy bear and a pillow. However, I found myself saying them anyways, confiding in her what I would later end up regretting.

She listened, chin in hand, as I talked over the drone of Mr. Gavin's lecture. I could tell she was paying attention, too, since not once did her eyes glaze over. Her expression shifted occasionally, from interest to concern to anger. Once I was finally finished and as out of breath as a marathon runner, she spoke.

"Why don't you ever tell your dad about these things, Ash?"

My heart skipped a beat as she said that. The mere mention of my father, whose angry image was still clear in my mind, made my hands begin to sweat. I rubbed them across the desk, streaking near invisible lines across them.

"He..." He what? What could I tell her? That he didn't care? That he was too busy drinking and "working" to do anything about it? Did I dare tell her such things?

Before I could make up my mind, the lie slipped out as easy as it always had. "He wants me to handle the problems myself. You know, since I'm going to college soon and everything. He thinks that I need to 'man up' and face my own issues, you know?"

"But this is getting out of control, Ash. You're being targeted by a lot more than just a few of these idiots."

"It's hard to explain," I offered, my nerves fraying as she pressed closer and closer to home. "He's really busy with his job, anyways. I don't want to bother him."

"Then tell a teacher."

I scoffed. "Yes, Misty, because those balding fools totally know how to help in a situation like this."

"Some of them can. Mrs. Dryden is really understanding. She-"

"-hates me," I finished. "I always challenged her opinions in my writing and our debates, and she hated me for it. She was conservative; I am liberal. She wouldn't help me if I had the cure to cancer and was about to fall off a cliff."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is."

She huffed and looked back toward the front of the classroom. "Honestly, Ash, how do you expect anyone to help you if you keep on pushing them away?"

"I came to you, didn't I?"

She looked at me sharply, then back at Mr. Gavin. It was several moments before she said, "It's not enough."

I slouched in my chair, suddenly feeling very defeated. "Yeah, I know."

She didn't say anything further, and neither did I. I felt angry with myself for even confessing to her what had happened. I was becoming weak, all because I had been coaxed into believing that this girl was someone I could confide in. My father's outbursts and my peers' mercilessness once ceased to have a long-lasting impact on me. Now, however, every jerk of hand or smirk of face made me flinch and writhe.

I was sitting in math class when the teacher got a call over the paging system. A few moments later, she hung up and turned to me. I felt my skin turn cold.

"Ash Ketchum, the guidance office wants to see you."

Her words were met with the typical "ooo"'s from my classmates. I felt my face heat up as everyone turned their inquisitive eyes on me. Sliding out of my seat, I shuffled toward the door, Mr. Kly's eyes in my back the entire time.

The guidance counselor, Mrs. Bryan, was waiting for me when I walked in. Her face was twisted with concern, a fact that immediately made me suspicious of her reason for calling me down.

She invited me into her office, which was decorated with colorful posters and pictures of various students doing various things around the school. The counselor's desk was littered with mile high stacks of paper and little trinkets that I could only assume were either to keep her from going mad or to try and cheer up troubled students.

I sat in one of the leather chairs that was opposite her desk, while she plopped her fat ass down in her office chair. I stifled a laugh at the way it sagged and groaned beneath her weight.

She interlaced her fingers on her desk. "I spoke with one of your classmates today, and they told me that you've been having issues with your peers. Is this true?"

I felt red hot anger boil in my throat. Misty! "Yes, ma'am, I suppose it is."

"What's been happening?"

I felt a hard lump form in my throat. All my life, I'd been instructed to keep everything to myself. My father had insisted that I disassociate myself with any and all people in my school, teachers and faculty included. And yet here I was, about to confide in one of the least trustworthy people in all of my high school.

"Today, one of the kids on the bus dumped blue Gatorade on my head. They all just started laughing then, like it was some kind of hilarious Robin Williams joke."

She nodded. The sympathy in her eyes made me want to puke. "I see. Did you try and tell them how it made you feel?"

I bit back a sarcastic remark. And Misty thinks that these people are helpful? What kind of fantasy world is she living in? "No, ma'am. They were all laughing and shouting so much I was sure no one would hear me."

"They might have, if you spoke loudly enough."

No one hears me, whether it's quiet or loud. Except Misty, but I see now where that's gotten me. "I don't think so, ma'am. The buses are bad. Overcrowded and undisciplined."

"And how do you think that can be changed?"

What am I, the Board of Education? "I don't know. Add some kind of security official in there, just to break up fights and stop bullying. Although they'd probably just get spit on and threatened."

She actually looked like she was considering the idea, which shocked and disgusted me. How could she, as a professional therapist, not have thought of that before? Wasn't she supposed to be one of the school's advisers?

"Is that all that's been going on?" she asked, her eyes focused once more. "Or have other things been happening?"

"A few small things, but nothing big," I lied. "It's nothing."

She reached across her desk and patted my arm, which made me flinch. I wasn't used to being touched in such a sincere way. "Of course it's something, Ashton. It's always something. The little things add up, you know."

I sighed. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"Talking heals the soul."

"Well, then, after this my soul should be pretty healed." The comment came across more cold than I intended, which made me feel both pleased and guilty.

Mrs. Bryan, however, didn't seem all that bothered. After several moments of silence, she ventured into a new category. "How is your home life?"

I tensed. "Fine," I said all too quickly.

She caught the tension in my voice right away, as a professional like her had been trained to do. I hated the way her eyes lit up as she did, as if she had just won the greatest prize in some raffle. She leaned forward, clearly very interested in me. Or an opportunity to use her degree, I should say.

"You're speaking fast and tense," she commented excitedly. "Why? You're lying to me, aren't you? Don't lie, Ashton. It's not healthy. You can trust me."

I resisted the urge to draw back. "I said it's fine. Humdrum, but fine."

"So then you and your father don't do much together?"

"Occasionally."

"Like what?"

"I don't know," I snapped. "Camping. Fishing. The usual father-son stuff."

"And yet you act as if you're afraid of him."

Her bringing me to that point sent me over the edge. I found myself rising from my chair and stalking around her desk so that I was standing right over her. I pressed down the urge to smack her as hard as my body would allow. "I'm not afraid of him!" I yelled. "I just don't have a close relationship with him, that's all!"

Mrs. Bryan seemed unfazed by my sudden outburst. "Perhaps the e-mail I sent out will help you, then."

My blood turned ice cold. "What?"

She nodded. "I sent out an e-mail after speaking with that student today. I think that your father needs to be informed of these school happenings. In order to maintain a healthy student life, you need to keep your parent involved and up-to-date. I didn't want anything slipping through the cracks and being forgotten, so I decided to take it upon myself to tell him the full story. Don't worry; I'm sure this will help you grow closer!"

I felt sick to my stomach then. I started backing away, nearly tripping over her purse. "My father's v-very busy, ma'am. He doesn't like to be pestered about these trivial things."

"They are not trivial! Ash, why are you implying that your father doesn't care anything for you? I've seen you two together; he beams when he's with you!"

I wanted so badly to tell her that it was all an act. That he acted all modest and proper in public, simply so he could maintain his reputation and further mask his dark heart. I wanted to tell her everything about him; how awful he was at home and about how troubled of a man he was.

But I couldn't. She was not someone I could trust. Not after she e-mailed my father without even telling me. I wasn't about to tell her all of that, only for her to go and confront my father about it. If I told her, and she did that, then I'd be in a black bag by morning for sure.

"Ash?" she questioned, looking concerned. "Are you alright? You look very pale. Perhaps you should sit down."

I waved her offer away. "No... No thank you, ma'am. I need to get back to class." Before she could say anything further, I darted out of her office and into the hall.

The next five minutes of my time consisted of me storming into the men's bathroom and pacing around, throwing my hands up like a madman and rambling to myself. My day had quickly gone from bad to disastrous. My father was going to read that e-mail. He might have already. He was going to be pissed. So pissed. I shuddered as I thought of what he'd do to me, recalling the time several months prior when he had whipped me for getting in-school suspension.

Was he going to lock me in the basement again? Make me sleep outside for the next two weeks? Starve me? Beat me to the point of unconsciousness? Keep me from seeing Misty?"

That last possibility made me almost fall over. I couldn't stand the thought of it. Not that I liked her or anything; I just needed her to scream to and unleash my anger upon. She was the sponge that soaked in my hatred and fury; without her, all I had was a bear and a pillow. I needed her for that. I needed her to be my bear and my pillow. Not my friend. No, he couldn't take her away. He couldn't. He just couldn't.

I shoved the tears budding in my eyes back into their sockets. Taking a deep breath, I chose to walk out of that bathroom and back to class, ignoring the stares and questions of my peers. I grasped my pencil tight in my hand and wrote, trying hard not to break down in front of everybody.

For once, I wasn't mad at Misty. I understood that she didn't understand. She thought I was just too shy and afraid to get help, so she did it for me. She was trying to help. It was Mrs. Bryan and her recklessness that I was pissed at. Her sending that one e-mail was enough to write my death warrant. I knew that there was a large possibility that my father could give me the worst he ever had that night. He could even kill me.

The rest of the day was hell. I didn't eat. I talked to no one. When Misty came to me in lunch, I got up and moved away. When she followed me, I walked into the one place she couldn't- the men's bathroom. It was then that I sobbed a bit, fearing for my very life. Once I got control of myself, I left the bathroom and went to my next class. On and on I went, holding in so much fear and despair I thought I might explode.

Then came the end of the day.

Fortunately, God wasn't cruel enough to make anything bad happen to me on the bus. The kids mostly ignored me, although a few poked and prodded at me occasionally, trying to get some sort of reaction out of me. I gave them none, for I was already too numb to feel anything they did. I just stared at the back of the seat in front of me, nearly burning a hole in it with the intensity of my stare.

When I looked out the bus window and saw my father in the yard, talking to Misty, my stomach flipped. It was all I could do not to dump the nonexistent contents of my stomach onto the floor. I grabbed my bag and staggered off the bus, feeling about as good as a drunk man.

My father did a very good job of hiding his anger. He talked and laughed with Misty; it sounded to me as if they were discussing some sort of sports thing. Misty still had her bag slung over her shoulder, telling me that she hadn't yet stopped home.

When my father saw me, he stepped away from Misty to greet me with a big hug. I sucked in a sharp breath, which I was sure both he and Misty heard. I forced myself to reciprocate the hug, allowing a single tear to fall onto his red shirt.

My father pulled back after just a moment. Now that he had his back to Misty, he allowed a dangerous spark to enter his eyes for just a second. "Misty told me about what happened on the bus today, as did your guidance counselor in an e-mail. Are you alright, son?" His voice held a hidden meaning that only I understood.

You may be all right now, but wait until I've finished with you, you son of a bitch.

I swallowed back the apple-sized lump in my throat. "Yes, sir, I'm fine. It was a shock at first, but I've gotten over it."

"Good,' he said in his fake happy voice. "I'm glad to hear that. Come inside and set your stuff down, and then we can talk about it. I think it's time we had a serious talk about what's been going on in school, hm?"

I flinched. "Yes, sir."

I looked past him then and saw Misty. I expected her to be happy that my father and I were going to have a "heart-to-heart", and was surprised to see that she actually looked scared.

Scared of what? What had she just witnessed or realized that made her look so shocked?

I didn't have time to ask, for my father cut in with a goodbye at that point. He then whisked himself away toward the door. I reluctantly followed, my hands grabbing tight to the seams of my pants as I did so. Christ was I going to be hurting tonight.

"Bye," Misty said softly. I'd never heard her sound so vulnerable. What the hell?

I gave her one last look over my shoulder as I stepped inside. Her eyes were locked on to me like I was some sort of valuable art piece in a fire. Her whole body was tense, and her jaw worked the way mine did when I got really agitated. She opened her mouth to say something, but I turned away before she could.

Then the door shut and it began.

~M

It wasn't until I saw him with his father that it finally clicked for me.

I felt like the world's biggest, most selfish idiot for not having realized it before. Coming to the conclusion I had was like a slap to the face; it was like God was giving me a serious wake-up call.

And I definitely was awake.

The fear in his eyes when he looked out that window and saw his father and me. The way he took in a sharp breath when his father hugged him, as if it surprised him more than anything else in the world. How terrified he looked when he looked over his shoulder at me, as if to extend a silent cry for help.

Something was going on in there. Something bad.

I had an aching suspicion that I knew what it was, but I needed confirmation. I was always a woman of hard word. If a question came to my mind, I wanted to know the answer. It didn't matter how trivial the answer was; I had to know it. So I inched over to their front window, keeping low so as not to be so easily seen.

As I crept over to the transparent glass, I tried convincing myself that I was overreacting. That he was just shaken from the day's events and was currently having a deep, meaningful talk with his father. I forced the idea into my head that everything was fine, and that I had nothing to be worried about.

All of that went out the window when I saw them.

Ash's father had his back to me in the entryway of their living room. I held back a scream when I saw Ash just beyond, lying on the ground and being beat upon by his father. I felt tears well in my eyes as I saw his father's fist come down, over and over and over.

I couldn't bear to stand there for more than just a few seconds. I ran away like a coward, tripping over the roots of a bush as I did so. I sprinted across the lawn and over to my own house, busting through the door and flying up the stairs. My mother let out a surprised cry as I nearly struck her down with the front door, but I ignored her. I shot into my room like a crazed cheetah and slammed the door behind me.

Throwing myself onto my bed, I buried my face into my pillow and sobbed. I'd heard plenty about child abuse, but I'd never witnessed it before in my whole life. I'd always acted as if it was out of my realm of concern. I told myself time and time again that it wasn't anything for me to be all that informed about, because it would never make its way into my life.

And yet here I was, bawling into my white pillow because I had just witnessed my friend being struck by his own father. An act I had set in motion by telling Mrs. Bryan - and Mr. Ketchum - what had happened on the bus.

I had to help him. I had to do something to get him out of there or at least... I just had to do something. I couldn't just act like I hadn't seen anything. I'd gotten him to trust me, sure, but that only ended up making his life ten times worse. He was at the bottom of the barrel, and I had to get him out. I didn't care if he hated me for it. I didn't care if he pushed me away a hundred times over. I had helped him before and succeeded, and I was going to do it again. I had to. Otherwise, I'd be forced to live with the guilt of knowing I'd sentenced him to hell.

I got up.

So I think we're starting to near the climax/end of this story. It's been a very interesting one to write, and I'm looking forward to bringing it to a conclusion. I would draw it out for longer, except there's not much else I can do. Expect at minimum 2-3 more chapters, possibly 4-5 if I can find enough content to stretch it out that long. There will also be an epilogue, so if you want you can count that into the chapter count too. I'll probably release the epilogue at the same time as the last chapter. If you've liked this story, then please feel free to check out the other one on my profile. If you don't like it or are upset by what I'm doing, please, tell me why! Feedback is the heart that pumps my pen ;)

Until next time,

- Anonymous1O1