Somedays, Ashe really hated her school.

It wasn't some stark revelation or anything, she knew going in that she would struggle with acceptance. The school was located in the wealthiest district of Jericho, Halsey, and stuffed full of the finest progeny the city had to offer. Of all the schools that Ashe had attended over the years, even when shoved into the foster system, never had she dealt with such snobbish pricks. It was amazing how many people considered themselves better than others just because they got lucky with their birth.

Ashe wasn't one of those lucky ones.

That was part of the reason she found herself in the staff shower washing glue out of her hair. Being made to use a separate shower from the rest of the school was humiliating in and of itself, but that was one of the few decisions she actually agreed with and hadn't fought anyone on. Trying to fight for equality would just lead to a level of drama she didn't want to deal with.

All she wanted was to be another face in the crowd, to be nobody special. She was denied even that. Word of her adoption made the local news simply because she was placed in the city's best school and enough people were up in arms about that as it was.

She had been so scared when her mom died during a protest, gunned down by one of those supposed fine citizens the city loved to brag about. It felt like such a cosmic joke, she finally got the help she needed, only for it to be cast into doubt all because of one jackass opening fire into the crowd. If anyone else had done that, they would have been called a terrorist, but it fit the agenda of those in power, so he was just suffering from mental health problems and given a gentle pat on the wrist instead.

Ashe's whole life was cast adrift due to the actions of one madman, and then he was practically honored as a hero thanks to the fucked up 'politics' of the whole thing. Of course, it shouldn't surprise her given how it was illegal to even teach history in the great state of Florida, so how were people supposed to know that Nazis were evil?

At least all the cops within the city weren't living up to the stereotype.

Ashe scrubbed more vigorously at her scalp to rid herself of the unpleasant memories. Working the adhesive loose, she sighed as it dropped in clumps to the shower floor along with more of her hair than she would have liked. She would probably need to cut it shorter, which made her stomach churn with bile. She worked hard to take care of her hair and people knew that.

She knew reporting it was futile, it would be considered a harmless prank, one of many, and dismissed as her whining about something that wasn't a big deal. She endured it again and again, all because she was 'asking for it' by daring to be different. It was a sad state of things, and just up and moving to a better state wasn't an option.

Her adoptive parents were more than a decade into their careers, and retirement was getting too close for them to start fresh somewhere else. Ashe knew her best hope was to endure the last few months of highschool and get a scholarship to a college out of state. She was studying hard, and had several places picked out. She intended to take her SATs out of state, to avoid sabotage and hopefully secure a place in Minnesota or Washington. She wanted to be as geographically far away from Florida as she could manage.

Rinsing the last of the shampoo from her hair, Ashe stood for a moment basking in the warmth of the shower. As much as she bitched about the school, their showers, and the endless supply of scalding hot water, were amazing. She couldn't linger for long, but the warmth helped soothe her all the same.

Shutting the water off, Ashe stepped over to the mirror of the staff showers, once again thankful that she didn't have to use the facilities meant for every other student. Who said segregation wasn't alive and well in the US of A? Then again, she was one of three people with a key to this particular bathroom and if they were going to segregate her, who was she to argue? Gritting her teeth, Ashe wiped the steam from the mirror and surveyed the damage.

The streak of metallic blue she had dyed into her light brown hair was all but washed out, but she'd already accepted that as an outcome. Maybe she would dye it purple or red over the weekend, after she got it evened out to make up for the missing clumps. She looked into her own chocolate eyes, looking for something she wasn't sure she wanted to find. There was a spark of defiance there, one she wasn't sure was an entirely good thing.

The desire to grab a small arsenal of guns and become a statistic did pop into her head, an intrusive thought she always rolled around before setting it aside. She knew better than to dismiss it outright, as it would just get stronger, better to stop and consider all the ramifications of following through. It helped remind her why it wouldn't solve anything, her bullies were just that, and only got away with what they did because the system allowed it. She was just one person, and couldn't enact change on the level needed no matter what she tried.

With a huff, Ashe began to wring the water from her hair with pruned fingers. The scar on her eyebrow drew her eye, and the lame as hell story behind it came to mind. Everyone always thought she was a badass or something when they saw it and she wasn't about to correct them.

Then there was her nose, slightly crooked following the substandard medical care she received in freshman year after Jessica spiked a volleyball into her face 'on accident' when she wasn't even playing. Then the hospital insisted it wasn't broken and that getting a second opinion wouldn't be covered under insurance, so her nose was never reset properly.

Grabbing her dollar store hair dryer, she did what she could about the remaining moisture, and not for the first time she considered cutting most of it off and adopting the queerest side cut she could manage. It wasn't like her mother wouldn't be able to do it for her, she had experience there after all. Shorter hair was nice in several ways, even if long hair was pretty, sometimes it just wasn't worth the hassle.

She tossed the resulting mess into a damp ponytail and resolved to deal with it once she got home. The sun would be setting before long and she did not want to be stuck outside after dark, not in Jericho. The gangs weren't the worst in the state, at least in terms of open violence, but the Iron Patriots were well aware of who she was and would jump at the chance to pull something if they felt able to get away with it. As much as it sickened her, the various small time cartels that operated in the city did tend to avoid making waves as a result of the fascist scum declaring open season on them following such acts. The only one to get away with things was some bastard named Alejandro that was so crazy nobody fucked with him.

She grabbed a pair of shorts and tank top from her bag and hastily got dressed. Despite winter plunging most of the country in ice or snow, one could always count on Florida to be nice and warm all year round. Well, aside from like two weeks in January, but that was behind them. It also served to show off that not only was she in decent enough shape, but that she had actual curves despite having a slim figure. That the clothes were cheap to replace when her bullies got creative was another perk she tried not to think too much about.

Checking her phone, she was disheartened that her parents wouldn't be able to swing by to pick her up for at least another hour, and she would be thrown out of the facility long before then. She was already cutting it close as it was with her shower.

Jogging would be her best bet for getting home at a reasonable time given that she missed even the latest school or city buses. She didn't have her own car, having opted to put her money towards college instead, and both her parents were working late. It wasn't like the city had a proper bus route outside of the affluent areas, which she lived on the outskirts of and it was late enough they wouldn't be running outside of one or two routes closer to downtown.

Daylight Savings Time was to blame, and she wished the fossils in charge would finally do away with it. Ashe lamented that she wouldn't be able to hit up Marigold's Curiosities on the way home, but personal safety was more important than a couple of used books.

Stepping out of the staff restroom, she did her best to keep a stoic expression as she took in the three most prominent of her bullies. Jessica stood front and center, her blonde hair and bright blue eyes were striking, making her incredibly popular among the young fascists. Her hair was done up in Viking style braids which Ashe had to begrudgingly admit worked well with her athletic frame.

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Then there were her book ends. Heather was shorter, with black hair and brown eyes. She played up the cute angle and acted harmless, but she had been the one to drop the glue in Ashe's hair. On her own she was next to harmless, but she was never alone and always emboldened by those around her encouraging any and all malicious acts against those considered lesser by the so-called patriots.

Last up was Rachel, her hair was a darker brown and paired with almost gray eyes. She wasn't anything special, but her parents were and she leveraged that. They were major donors to the school as well as to Senator Ellington, which carried its own weight in the school's social circles.

She tried to avoid thinking about the former governor and his campaign. Her mother had died protesting the man's policies, all for the hope that Ashe would get to live a better life. In a way, her sacrifice hadn't been in vain, but she still missed her. The guilt at being happy with her adoptive parents still gnawed at her from time to time.

"Sorry about the hair," Heather said with a sickly sweet voice. "I don't know how I tripped and got it all over you."

"Not like it's anything he's not used to," Rachel scoffed.

Ashe grit her teeth, because admitting she liked girls would just add fuel to the rumors that she was just trying to peek at other girls. She had to endure the abuse for just a few more months, and then she'd be free and she would never suffer it again.

"Besides, you looked better with short hair," Jessica said with a haughty chuckle. "We were simply trying to help you."

"Not that it was purposeful, of course," Rachel hastily added. "God works in mysterious ways, we just happened to be his instrument in correcting your mistakes."

Jessica nodded. "God doesn't make those, much as we might disagree."

"Yet here you are, proving that statement wrong," Ashe muttered before she thought better of it.

"What was that you little fa—"

Ashe shouldered past Jessica before she could finish the insult, eyeing Jessica's boyfriend Gray who had been hiding around the corner with his phone out to record things. She did her best to ignore the football quarterback and hurried down the hall to get away from the abusive cunts.

"Do try to be safe," Gray yelled. "I hear it's rather dangerous for vermin like you. We can only pray that someone will do the world a favor."

Oh look, her intrusive thoughts were back.

Ashe was thankful that the school didn't let her carry her handgun with her to school despite having a concealed carry permit for it. If she had a car, she could have kept it there, but that wasn't an option. That Florida allowed legal firearm ownership at fifteen, and concealed carry at sixteen was considered horrific by most of the places Ashe wanted to move to, but it was a boon to keeping her safe until she could.

She made her way out of the school and started down the familiar path back home. She refused to stoop to their level and use fear or violence to get results, no matter how much she wanted to lash out. Ashe wouldn't be a doormat, but there were few things the administration wouldn't use as an excuse to throw the book at her.

Spite, however, was a powerful motivator. It would see her through the darkest of times. She hadn't believed her therapist the first time that she had been told to look for any reason to keep going until tomorrow, but looking back, she could see how spite had carried her better than almost any other motivating factor.

She pushed through the front door and the Florida evening air washed over her. The air was humid and muggy, but the sea breeze carried a smell that she treasured. It was enough to make her forget about her troubles for a few blissful moments. If there was anything she would miss when she left Jericho, it was the sea.

Still, it wasn't enough to justify living in America's dick.

The school was close to the sea, in the historic district where everything looked like it was still set in the fifties, much like the laws of the land. Palm trees lined brick walkways set along one way streets that were well cared for by the local council. They wanted to preserve their history and all, yet that didn't hide all the cracks in the cheery facade.

There were tags sprayed in out of the way areas, visible if one looked for them. A shoe hung from one power line, and someone dressed well enough to blend in sat on a bench, watching everyone who passed for potential customers. Ashe jogged past him, not making eye contact as she did.

A few women were talking at one intersection, and a man hovered nearby, watching. At first instinct, she would warn the women, and had even done so some years ago, only to have one of them politely explain that they were all Viuda, or rather, Widows. A group under the protection of the cartels that operated in the city. It was something that all of those groups had agreed to, and they jointly protected them from harm. When one of their members died and left a widow behind, they could join that group for protection and potential work.

Ashe knew exactly what sort of work was on offer.

She had nothing against sex workers, and from what they had said, the work was all voluntary and didn't dictate if they would get food or shelter, but it was something offered to all of them. She spotted the woman who had given her that very lesson as she approached the man. Words were spoken and she departed, likely checking on the girls she was nominally responsible for.

They weren't a danger unless you purposely fucked with their girls, and even the police looked the other way, which was a minor miracle considering how common Patriot membership was among their ranks.

Ashe rounded a corner, putting the girls behind her and continued on, her breathing measured as she kept a steady pace. Marigold's came into sight and she stared at the colorful hanging sign longingly, wishing she could stop, but she forced herself to cross the street and continue along where the temptation wouldn't be waiting for her.

She tried to avoid looking, but movement caught her eye as a woman exited the shop. Ashe couldn't help but stare at her, because it took guts to pull off a punk rocker look deep in the heart of bigotville. She had a side cut, all dyed bright blue much like her own strip of hair had once been. She was more than a bit jealous if she was being honest.

Tattoos decorated her arms, a swirl of colors drawing attention to her buff as hell biceps. Her gray top cut off at her bellybutton, showing a hint of abs. Despite the weather being warm, she wore a pair of faded jeans, torn in multiple places to go with her leather jacket that was currently tied around her waist.

Okay, there was no denying that Ashe liked girls, and it would be obvious to anyone watching that it was true. The woman was looking over a book in her hand, no doubt purchased at that very shop and Ashe wanted to curse past her for taking the detour. Worse, the woman looked up and caught her staring.

She felt her face warm far more than it should have from the exertion, and rather than look away or ignore her, eye contact was not only returned but held. Ashe couldn't look away if she wanted to, and worst of all, the woman had the gall to fucking smirk.

Ashe's growing blush turned thermonuclear, but she couldn't look away no matter how hard she tried. Her body moved mechanically, which was why she found herself stumbling as she tripped over nothing. She hastily caught herself on one of the trees and tried to look as cool as she could.

Looking back at the woman, she found her laughing, which made Ashe want to wilt into nothingness. Was it too much to ask for a random spot of rain to blow through right about then? It would be fitting given her luck and likely get her out of such an embarrassing moment.

The woman shook her head, then winked of all things before she pulled her jacket back on and fished a phone from her back pocket. Ashe was still staring as she watched the woman check something when someone grabbed her arm, pulling her off the street. She was about to start struggling when she felt cold metal press against her skin.

"Scream and you die," a graveled voice said and pulled her into the growing dark.