The Life of Alishia

Sometimes life isn’t fair. It can be cruel—for no reason at all.

The sun hit Alishia’s face—a chilling, dreamlike warmth, like the light of a distant star, another world.

She could never reach that world, no matter how far she chased it. All she felt was the rough bench beneath her hands, her fingers clutching it as if it could hold her in place.

She hated this bench so much. She didn’t want to sit here every day, waiting for something that would never come.

Alishia was stuck—in a cycle of disappointment and despair.

Always the same sun. The warmth. The bench, day after day.

People are blinded, they don't realize how good they have it—to see the faces of their loved ones every single day, to hear their laughter, to feel their warmth as if it were endless. They don't know how cold solitude can be, how living a whole life without warmth froze one to the core.

They’ve never even been outside in the cold during the day. How could they possibly know how freezing it can be at night?

It was like an unending winter, and Alishia was frozen to the bone. She would have given anything to feel what those people felt—even for a single minute, even for a single heartbeat.

It tore her apart… that she would never have that life.

“Hey.” The familiar girl’s voice called from behind, sending a deep chill down Alishia’s spine. She quickly lowered her head, staring at her hands to avoid meeting the girl’s gaze.

It was Ronja.

She had a way of turning Alishia’s life into a living hell, seeming to take pleasure in tormenting her—no matter how much, she enjoyed causing pain.

It was her twisted satisfaction.

She let out a sharp whistle to get Alishia's attention.

When Alishia finally looked up, Ronja was already in front of her, looking down with a wide, cruel grin. Her raven-black hair framed her face, and her dark eyes glinted, locking onto her and burning straight into her soul.

“Freak. Are you deaf now?”

Ronja chuckled, a sound full of amusement and malice.

A large boy’s arm settled over Alishia’s shoulder. Another boy appeared on the other side, completing the circle.

Akio and Haruto had joined them as well. They never missed a chance to make her feel small and weak.

For a fleeting moment, she had hoped it wouldn’t be all of them. Especially Ronja—her punches hurt the most. Still, she wasn’t stupid; she knew they all would be here.

“Nice bag you got there,” Haruto said playfully, slowly removing his arm from her shoulder and reaching for it.

Alishia instinctively tried to reach for her bag, but Ronja pushed her off balance and sent Alishia back into the bench with a heavy impact. They all let out quiet, mocking laughs.

It hurt more than anything else: the way they laughed, the way their hands touched her, taking whatever they wanted, claiming her, hurting and humiliating her—as if she were theirs by right.

She felt like a bird without wings, hoping to fly away.

“I don’t know, man,” Akio added, bending down toward her with a sneer. “Looks like she fished it out of the trash behind that filthy, parentless house. Probably the same place she gets her food from.”

Alishia tried to ignore his words— but swallowing her anger made her feel even sicker, just as throwing up.

“I bet she gets her clothes from there too,” another girl—Kim—appeared, laughing. She grabbed Alishia’s ripped shirt and made a disgusted noise. “I’ve seen homeless people wearing better stuff than this trash!”

Dumb idiots, Alishia thought, still looking down. Her heart hammered, but she forced herself to stay standing, even as her cheat burned hot, her mind wishing to dissappear.

She refused to show any emotion, so they couldn’t make her feel even more trapped than she already did.

“What do you want?” she finally asked them, her voice barely steady.

Ronja looked almost too happy about it. “What do you think? Our money, of course.”

Before Alishia could react, Ronja grabbed her and brutally shoved her down. She hit the hard stone, her forehead striking it painfully, warmness spilled as blood seeped from the fresh wound.

“Let’s see what we’ve got here,” Haruto said, already shaking her backpack. Its contents spilled across the ground, scattering at their feet.

He stopped and carefully picked a small object out of the chaotic mess on the ground.”

“Well, look at that.”

He held up Alishia’s Smartphone—the one she had bought secondhand, scratched and slightly broken. To anyone else, it was nothing but old junk. To her, it was getting a self-earned and hard-worked piece of life she deserved. She had spent months saving for it, collecting deposit bottles, skipping meals, even asking strangers for bus money just to keep every last yen to herself.

Haruto let it slip from his fingers, his face fixed on her. The phone hit the ground with a dull crack.

Then he kicked her other things across the pavement—schoolbooks, clothes, scattered coins. Everything she owned was crushed and dragged through the dirt like it meant nothing.

Rage tore through Alishia, hot and sharp, tangled with helplessness. They stomped over her belongings without a second thought. To them, it was all garbage. To her, it was everything.

They didn’t care how hard she had worked—or what a thirteen-year-old had endured just to earn what they got as pocket money.

“That’s all?” Ronja asked, disappointed. “We told you to bring at least 10,800 Yen.”

Ronja stepped on her head, making her groan painfully.

“Get off me!” Alishia spoke up agitatedly, struggling to free herself.

“Shut the fuck up,” Haruto growled, his voice harsh. He carelessly tossed the empty backpack onto the ground. The urge to say something, to fight back, just do something, anything— was deep in Alishia's head—but she simply couldn't.

“Where is our damn money?!” he demanded again, his eyes flashing with impatience and threat. Alishia swallowed hard, too scared to answer. Every glance, every movement they made caused her to tremble.

“I bet she spent it all on that trashy phone,” Kim sneered, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “She doesn’t even have enough money to buy herself some soap.”

Alishia's cheeks heated up, she wanted to disappear, to vanish somewhere far away where no one could find her.

But in reality, she could only look away, focusing on something else—like she always did when she wanted to be invisible.

Ronja pressed harder on her head, blood dripping down onto the ground. The pain throbbed—the suffocating weight made Alishia's body shake.

“So you really wanna tell me that you bought this old iPhone instead of giving the money to us like WE said?” Ronja leaned down, her foot still pressing against Alishia’s head. Every word burned like fire.

“Oh, you will pay for this,” Haruto suddenly said, moving in Alishia's direction.

Just as he wanted to reach out for her, Ronja grabbed him violently and stopped him.

“I’m so tired of you,” Ronja hissed, sharp as broken glass, still looking down on Alishia, not paying the slightest attention to Haruto. Her three lackeys froze, eyes wide, exchanging uncertain and confused glances.

“Every. Single. Day… the same bullshit.” Ronja stepped closer, each footfall deliberate. The intense pressure on Alishia’s head lifted—but her gaze, oh, her gaze, was worse: cold, piercing, unrelenting, just a breath away.

“Aren’t you tired of always being the dummy?” Ronja sneered, yanking Alishia’s hair back, exposing her forehead. Alishia flinched, terror clawing through her chest, every muscle locked. Instinct screamed to run, but her body betrayed her.

“It must be exhausting,” Ronja whispered, voice low and lethal, brushing ice-cold words against Alishia’s ear.

Ronja leaned in, pressing down, a predator in control, and Alishia felt every nerve in her body scream in helpless terror. She was trapped, completely vulnerable.

“But do you know what’s worse?” Ronja’s lips curled, a shadow of a smile making her eyes glint dangerously. She calmly and gently brushed Alishia’s hair out of her face, getting blood on her hands wolf above a bleeding sheep, leaning closer, her warm breath ghosting against Alishia’s trembling skin.

Alishia tried to back away, but with every touch of Ronja’s hand on her face, she felt it—the undeniable horror.

“Chasing after you… every single day… because you can’t even follow a simple instruction.”

Ronja’s eyes drilled into hers, sharp as knives. Time slowed, and she could feel it—each second stretched, thick and stifiling.

Alishia was less than human… more like a toy she breaks for her own amusement.

Fear was alive, pressing, omnipresent. She didn’t want to seem weak, didn’t want to show how afraid she was, but her body betrayed her, trembling all over. One simple touch from Ronja was enough to feel like a sharp blade pressed just above her heart.

At that moment, something darker flickered in Ronja’s eyes—a dangerous, playful cruelty.

“Maybe… I need to show you,” Ronja whispered, letting the words linger, slow and poisonous, looking directly at Alishia, “just how bad it can really get for you.”