A COLOURLESS WORLD

Ethan sat in his high school classroom, hunched over his sketchbook, and lost in a world of lines and shapes. The teacher's voice faded into the background as he carefully crafted his art. The world around him was a blur of monochrome, just like every other day. For as long as he could remember, Ethan's world had been stripped of color, an apt reflection of the despair that clung to him like a shadow. Suddenly, the teacher's stern voice cut through his artistic reverie. "Ethan!" she exclaimed, her frustration palpable. "You need to pay attention in class, not doodle in that book of yours." Ethan looked up, his grayscale world momentarily tainted with a shade of embarrassment. He mumbled an apology, hastily closing his sketchbook. The teacher, unsatisfied, continued her lecture, casting disapproving glances in his direction. After the bell finally rang, ending the school day, Ethan packed up his things and made his way to his sanctuary: the art class. Here, amidst the smells of paint and the soft hum of creativity, he could let his feelings flow freely onto paper. As he entered the art room, his eyes met those of a girl named Amanda. Unlike Ethan, she radiated cheerfulness, her bright eyes and laughter filling the room with a vitality he couldn't fathom. Amanda noticed the sketchbook in his hand and approached him. "Hey, what were you drawing in class?" she asked, her curiosity genuine. Ethan hesitated, but something about Amanda's openness compelled him to share. He reluctantly opened his sketchbook, revealing a dark, haunting image. It depicted a world shrouded in despair, a reflection of the emotions he had harbored for years. Amanda examined the drawing, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. "It's scary," she finally remarked. Ethan nodded. "It's how I see the world sometimes," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. Amanda didn't recoil in fear; instead, she offered a sympathetic smile. "Sometimes, you need a bit of color in your world to chase away the darkness," she said, her words soft but hopeful. As they continued to talk, Ethan found himself opening up to Amanda in a way he hadn't with anyone else in a long time. She was like a ray of sunshine in his gray existence, a source of comfort he had desperately needed. After an enjoyable art class, Ethan left the school building with a faint smile on his face, grateful for having made a new friend. However, that smile quickly faded as he stood before his front door. He knew what awaited him inside. With trepidation, he entered the house and greeted his parents. But before he could explain, his father's fury erupted like a storm. Ethan's sketchbook and pencils clattered to the floor as his father's fists rained down on him, each blow accompanied by harsh words. His parents' dreams for him were clear – they wanted him to become a doctor to lift them out of poverty. But Ethan's passion was art, and the fear of disappointing his parents kept him silent about his true desires. Bruised and battered, Ethan retreated to his room, tears streaming down his face. He cursed the circumstances of his birth and wished he had never been born. He yearned for an escape from the relentless pain. In a fit of despair, he threw his art book against the wall. As it fell to the floor, he noticed a drawing within its pages, one he hadn't created. It was Amanda's work from art class, a reminder of the colorful world he had briefly glimpsed that day. Ethan clung to that image, a lifeline to hope. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that there might be a future worth living for, with Amanda and the world of art that she had introduced him to. The next morning, Ethan reluctantly prepared for another day at school. He ate breakfast in silence, trying to avoid his father's gaze, but he couldn't evade his father's demands. Before leaving, his father sternly instructed him to be back home by 4 pm to help with yard work. Ethan knew he couldn't make it back in time for his art class, scheduled until 6 pm, but his attempts to explain were met with his father's unyielding resolve. It was a battle he couldn't win. Arriving at school, Ethan's bruised face did not go unnoticed by Amanda. Concern etched across her face, she gently asked, "Ethan, what happened to your face?" Ethan hesitated, his heart heavy with the weight of his secret, but he couldn't bring himself to share the truth. "It's nothing," he muttered, trying to deflect her concern. Their teacher entered the classroom, and the day's lessons began. Despite his best efforts to focus on the lecture, Ethan's mind wandered back to his art. Slowly, he pulled out his sketchbook again, pencil poised to create. Amanda noticed and, ever watchful, subtly alerted the teacher by pretending to be in pain. The teacher rushed to Amanda's side, her attention momentarily diverted. This gave Ethan the opportunity to stow away his sketchbook and open his English textbook, escaping the teacher's wrath once more. After class, he turned to Amanda, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you for saving me earlier," he whispered. Amanda smiled, her eyes filled with compassion. "No problem, but seriously, you need to stop drawing in class." It was nearly 4 pm, and Amanda suggested they head to art class. Ethan hesitated, knowing his father's expectations, but before he could voice his concerns, Amanda tugged him towards the art room. Once there, they lost themselves in their art, the worries of the world outside fading away. They spoke about their dreams, both aspiring to become artists. Ethan couldn't help but open up about his parents' desire for him to become a doctor. Amanda offered some advice, her words kind and supportive. "You should talk to your parents, Ethan. Tell them what your true passion is, even if it's difficult. It's your life, after all." Ethan knew it was easier said than done, but he appreciated Amanda's unwavering support. As they immersed themselves in their creations, time slipped away unnoticed. It was already 5 pm, and the setting sun cast long shadows through the art room. Ethan realized he had to rush home. "I have to go, Amanda," he said, a sense of urgency in his voice. "We'll continue tomorrow." He left the art room and sped towards home, his heart pounding with dread. When he arrived and opened the front door, his father's eyes bore into him, and a sense of impending doom washed over Ethan. Without warning, his father unleashed his fury once more. Ethan's stomach felt like it had been crushed as his father's fists landed brutally. The pain was unbearable, but his father didn't stop there; he continued to stomp on Ethan's head and berate him, delivering a torrent of insults. Ethan lay there in tears, his body aching, his spirit shattered. He went to bed that night with an empty stomach and a broken soul, the echoes of his father's words haunting him. "I want to die..." The thought reverberated in his mind, a desperate plea for escape from a life filled with pain and despair.