Lucille's POV

I wished I never set foot in this house in the first place because the next I knew, I received the beating of my life. I lay there on the floor, crying, groaning in pain and agony. All I wanted to do was have a little freedom, roam the mysterious streets of my land, but instead, I come home to an unexpected incident. My life couldn't get any worse. "Pull yourself together," I told myself. I took a concentrating shower, but instead of doing what any human would do in the shower, I just stood there, motionless. 

As the temperature continued to change from hot to cold, so did my emotions. When the temperature suddenly got warmer, I felt rage inside. What I longed to do was scream. My angry tears being like fire slowly dripping on a surface, causing sparks to ignite and turn up the heat in this room. I wished my parents could get a taste of my raging fire. Once the temperature went back to what felt like subzero climate, my emotions were cold.

I longed to knock some sense into those two. I wanted to inject my parents with my fury and aggravation. My die-hard emotions like frostbite growing on their skin, freezing them to the core. My tears suddenly turning to little ice crystals, as sharp as knives piercing my body and shattering into millions of pieces. I stared blankly into the mirror, 

The eyes were conveying a message. I looked into the eyes, and the eyes looked back at me. The eyes were dreary and full of sorrow. It's as they say, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul.' Those eyes, my eyes, were the key to my life. It was the key to knowing how completely wrecked and damaged my life was. "I hope someone's having a better life than me." 

Ivy's POV  

My mom was my everything. We were inseparable. Mom died years ago, and the only thing I had left of her was her jacket. Every day, I would tie it around my waist or wear it to school just to show how much I loved and missed her. I would often get bullied for that, though. "Ew. What's up with you and that piece of trash you wear to school every single DAY," she said in a dramatic voice.

I ignored her and shoved all of my things into my locker. "Hellooo? I'm TALKING to you...!" I still neglected her. Just as I was about to walk out, she slammed me against a wall. "I said I was talking to you," Vanessa shouted, and I just sat there. "Hey! Why can't you talk?! Open your mouth, dummy," 

The truth is, I am mute. Well, I chose to be mute...ever since my mom died, so the only thing I could do was sit there and behave like a wimp. "Ugh. Why am I even wasting time on an idiot like you," Vannessa sneered.

"Y'know, you can take that piece of trash and donate it to the poor or something, make a little money off of that hideous jacket," I heard snickering in the corner. I wanted to yell in Vannessa's stupid face that what I was wearing was not stupid, and certainly not my mom's jacket. Vannessa shot me a dirty look and sashayed down the hall. Vannessa hated my guts, but I've grown to hate hers too. I got up from the floor and took a deep breath, thinking to myself that everything was going to be alright, even though it wasn't. 

I wasn't looking forward to going home that day. I lived with my dad, and let's just say, things don't go well between us. I opened the door, and just as I had expected, my dad sat on a porch drinking. I quickly ran upstairs to my room before he could see me. I knew very well what would happen to me if my dad caught me coming home this late. I even shifted uncomfortably in my seat at the thought of that. I started my homework. I had a lot of things on my mind, and I couldn't even concentrate. 

Things seemed to be going smooth until I heard footsteps. They were like the feet of an elephant shaking the ground in the process. Suddenly, the door flung open, and it was my dad. I gulped. I tried to act normal but also keep my distance. The disgusting stench of alcohol burned my eyes and nullified my sense of smell. "H-hey, dad," I said in sign language. "Oh please! Save me the stupid gestures!" Dad stamped his feet on the floor so hard a piece of the hard-wood floor chipped. He took another gulp of his drink. 

I cautiously slid my chair backward. "Why are you here, dad?" I signed. "ENOUGH WITH THE GOD-DANG GESTURES!" Dad yelled. He threw his bottle, and it shattered to the ground, beer spilling all over the place. My dad was furious, and the alcohol was manipulating his entire body. Tears started flowing in my eyes. I couldn't believe my dad had chosen to develop a relationship with alcohol instead of a relationship with me. All alcohol ever did to him was manipulate him and kill him inside. 

The day mom left this world, instead of sulking and mourning over our unfortunate loss, he started drinking and feeling like it was the end of his world or something. Since then, we went from family to strangers. That was also the same day I decided never to talk again. "Can I please finish my homework?" I signed. My hands were trembling. "THAT'S IT!" Dad took a piece of broken glass from his bottle and threw it at me. I tried to duck, but I didn't do it in time. The shard cut a nice thick line on my forehead, blood gushing out. 

"If you EVER come home late again," dad paused, then chuckled in a rather creepy way. "I promise you'll fan out and wake up with your mom," he said, slamming the door. I gasped. "My...my mom...?" I thought. "How dare he talk to me that way!" I just sat there, motionless. I was shocked. I looked at the shattered pieces of glass and the sour stench of beer on the floor. I touched the ripped scab on my forehead. Tiny shards were sinking deep into my cut. 

Tears erupted from my eyes. I cried myself to sleep that night. "Why is my life so unfair?!" I thought to myself. I pulled my mom's jacket in close and cuddled with it. "I wish you were here, mom," I thought to myself. I wanted so badly to talk, but I didn't even dare to open my mouth. " I hope someone's having a better life than me." I thought.

Dior's POV

I wish I had never considered those backstabbing-wannabees as my friends, especially the one person I could trust. The person that was by my side despite the circumstance. That was my only best friend, Quinn. I woke up and threw on a sweatshirt and leggings. I didn't even care to fix my hair. I had bags under my eyes and decided to go to school looking like a douchebag. 

My "friends" looked like drag queens rather than real people. They would scold or try to ignore me if I didn't "dress the part." I hated being all fancy, wearing tight dresses and pounds of makeup just to win a guy's heart. It was nauseating, and speaking of nausea, my friends insisted on taking it too far by forcing me to throw up all the time. "You have to be skinny to be beautiful," says "my friends." 

I put the key into the ignition and started the car. After a long moment of silence, I arrived at my destination, called prison. Well, school, but I considered it as a prison because my life was a living nightmare. "Hey guys," I muttered. Jessica, Raelynn, and Quinn looked me up and down, then looked at each other. "Do we know you?" Asked Raelynn. I was shocked. "C'mon, guys, it's me, Dior!" I replied. Jessica sneered, Raelynn scoffed, and Quinn rolled her eyes. What? How could my best friend roll her eyes at me?!

" I-I don't understand...guys, are you like, pulling a prank on me again," I asked in my most sassy voice. "Pfft. Girl, where are your clothes?! Why does your face look like a depressed monkey?! No offense, but you look like a loser without makeup," Raelynn paused. I lowered my head and shifted my glance to a window.

"Girl, can't you just take a joke?! geez," 

"Right, sorry," Raelynn sighed. 

"C'mon, girls. You know what we have to do," and I knew exactly what she was talking about. 

"No, please, can we not do that today? I haven't been feeling good lately," I pleaded. 

"And can you not ask questions? You're such chicken," 

"But Rae, can't we just skip? Just for today...?" I trailed off.

"Y'know, people like you don't belong in this group. You seriously need to get a life," I just stood there. "What have I always told you?"

"You have to be skinny to be beautiful..." I muttered. 

"Exactly. In this group, you have to have the looks, the lush, and the lavish to attract the guys," I sighed. 

"Well, what're you waiting for? Do it!"

I reluctantly pressed two fingers together and pushed it far down my throat. A few moments later, I felt queasy and sick to my stomach. I felt puke erupting from my system, burning my esophagus and pouring out of my mouth like a giant waterfall. I puked in the toilet for several minutes. 

"Keep going..." said Raelynn. So I kept going being fully aware of my health. Just then, I felt dizzy. I called out my 'friends' names, but I couldn't see or hear that well. 

"Raelynn...? Jessica...?...Q-Quinn?..." I started fanning out. Just then, I collapsed. Raelynn, Jessica, and Quinn scoffed, laughed, and even mocked me. They didn't even feel sorry for me or try to help me up, especially Quinn. Best friends always look out for each other. As my lights continued to fade, memories of Quinn and I appeared in my mind. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, when we would always play together. 

But the memory that made me tear up as I continued to fan out was when we made a promise to always look out for each other no matter the circumstance. We even considered laying our lives down for each other. That's how exceptional of a friend she was. Raelynn and Jessica walked out as if they had seen nothing, and Quinn, who was once my best friend, shot me a couple of dirty looks and followed the rest. I got to the last light. It flickered, then died. "I hope someone's having a better life than me," 

Everything was falling apart in the lives of these three girls. They had lost hope and didn't know what to do. All they could do was cry long, and cry hard. But one day, each of them decided to visit a counselor, not knowing what surprises were in store for each of them. Their encounter at the counselor's office changed their lives and also changed their perspective for good.

                          Lucille. 

      I was fed up with my life. I was tired of how my parents treated me.

                               Ivy. 

I missed my mother but missed my dad more. 

                              Dior.

I risked my life for beauty knowing that I was also risking my friendship.

                             Lucille.

But it's time I gave my parents a taste of their own medicine. 

                               Ivy.

                       It's time I stand up for myself. 

                              Dior.

It's time I change for the better. 

Lucille. 

After a round of maltreatment from my parents, I went to sleep. I woke up the next day feeling ecstatic because I knew my calling. I knew what I had to do to make things right again. I went to school in my usual limo and scurried past tons of the same people gushing all over me. Just because I'm rich doesn't mean I have the best life there could ever be. I sat down beside two other girls I have never seen before. "Hi," I blurted out. One replied, and the other half-smiled. 

Ivy.

That night, I cuddled with my mother's jacket after being told off by my drunk dad. I woke up still feeling last night's vibes but quickly shook it off. I knew what I had to do to restore the relationship I once had with my dad and to destroy my inability to speak. I got to school, endured the verbal bullying I received from my mortal enemy (geez. Who knew words could hurt so much?) Then went to the counselor's office. I took a seat by two other girls. One of them said "Hi," and I tried my best to smile. 

Dior. 

After the endless sessions of repetitive puking, crying, and the back-stabbing of some friends, I went to bed that night and woke up feeling determined. I knew what I had to do to rekindle my friendship with Quinn. I knew what I had to do in favor of my health. I arrived at my destination called Hope. I had hope that once I took this leap of faith, everything would go the way it was before, but twice as better. I went to the counselor's office and sat down beside two girls. one said "Hi," and I replied with a "Hi back." 

" Hello, girls. My name is Mrs. Godfrey. How can I help you?"

"I came here because I have something important to talk about," 

"Same here," 

Ivy didn't speak.

"Uh, I'm sure she's here for the same reason," 

"Then let's get to it!" Said Mrs. Godfrey. 

"Um...can't we speak like, in private?" asked Dior. 

"You'll talk right here. I find it helps people relate to these things,"

"Uhm, okay..." said the girls.

The girls talked to the counselor and each other about their problems. As they talked and Ivy wrote her words instead, they started to form a bond and feel a connection like never before. 

"Yea, that's pretty much my life summed up," said Lucille. 

"Wow, um, I'm so sorry," replied Dior. 

"It's okay, you didn't know," Lucille muttered. 

"What about you, Ivy?" asked Lucille. Ivy froze. She was going to write but couldn't. She then took a deep breath and did something she never would've thought she would do. 

"I...I have Psychogenic Mutism..." replied Ivy. 

"Woah! You mean, you can talk, but decide not to? Why?" asked Dior.

"I-It's a long story....my dad...is an alcoholic and beats me up all the time kind of like your parents, Lucille," Ivy rubbed her arm and lowered her head. 

"At least we have something in common," Lucille chuckled. 

"Hehe, yeah..." There was a moment of silence. 

"What about your mom? Does she have a hand in this?" 

Just then, tears dripped from Ivy's eyes.

"No...she's dead. My mother was everything to me, and I miss her so much," We all patted Ivy's shoulders and hugged her. 

"The day she died was the same day I decided to be mute," Ivy stated as she wiped her tears. 

Mrs. Godfrey laughed, and we were in shock.

"Mrs. Godfrey, not to overstep but, how could you be laughing in a time like this?!" asked Lucille. 

"One thing you girls don't understand is that in times like this, you shouldn't be devastated or desolate, you have to learn how to rejoice," said Mrs. Godfrey. The girls looked at each other then back at the counselor. 

"Mrs. Godfrey, we're in the middle of THREE crises here, and all you talk about is rejoicing?! Rejoicing for what?!" Shouted Lucille. 

"That's exactly the point. Amid adversity, when things get tough, when life gives you lemons, all you have to do is rejoice, celebrate, be happy!" Mrs. Godfrey cheered. Lucille scoffed. 

"Mrs. Godfrey, you don't get it, do you? Look, I've been bruised, hurt, mocked, maltreated, and beaten countless times by my parents. How in the world could I POSSIBLY be happy?!" Lucille explained. 

"By assuring yourself that everything's going to be okay,"

"Huh?"

"What?"

"How?!" 

"Things happen for a reason, girls. You may not see it now, but in the future, I promise you'll know what I'm talking about. You have to be happy because people might be going through the same thing you're going through, and lifting their spirits through your rejoicing could be the key to their true happiness," Mrs. Godfrey continued. 

"Ivy, your dad could've been harming you because he probably went through some of the same things you're going through right now. Maybe things got so bad that he ached to inflict the pain on you as well," Ivy raised her head. 

"Lucille, your parents might've been maltreating you because, again, the setbacks they encountered in their lifetime destroyed their well-being so much that they wanted to inflict their pain on you even though you had nothing to do with it," 

"And Dior, sure, you made a bad decision to hang out with the wrong friends because even your best friend turned her back on you, but you can still get to know more about them because who knows? Perhaps, the reason why they're so harsh to everyone or just you, in general, is because you have something they will never have," 

"Wow...I...never really thought of it that way..." Lucille trailed off.

'"Same here... I always thought that my dad would never change," responded Ivy.

"This is remarkable! It's food for my soul," Dior remarked. 

With newfound determination in each of their minds, the girls set out to make what was once wrong right. Gosh, remind me never to see from your perspective again.