Ash POV

I didn't know that guilt messed with your sleep, but after the restless night I had, I was willing to bear witness on that.

It was a fact. I'd write a thesis on it if I had to. Subject- Trying to sleep when your head was pounding so hard it felt like a giant fist was squeezing your temples is a giant no-no.

And even though I knew that the headache had nothing to do with the Serena situation, it wasn't helping at all.

Morning sun rose from window outside as it brightens up the room, easier for me to know where I'm going since my room is a complete mess with clothes everywhere. I yawned tiredly by stretching my arms wide out, getting rid of the tiredness with a couple of cracks.

I dragged myself out of a single soft bed in less than 30 minutes before school started and went through my usual morning routine - hot shower, brushing teeth cleaned, get dressed in my casual clothing and stare at the mirror in bathroom, hoping that today would finally be the day that my raven hair would comb itself.

It wasn't.

But this morning, something was off. It wasn't just the headache. I'd been having these headaches on and off for a month now, so the pain was something I was almost used to.

It wasn't even the fact that I was ready for school exactly 5 minutes earlier than normal, even though it was something I was sure I wouldn't be repeating.

Nope, the 'off thing' was that no matter what I did, Serena's pale face swam in front of my hazel eyes, her voice ringing accusingly in both my ears.

I rubbed my tired goggly eyes, getting rid of the image. Yawning loud and secretly feeling like a tool. It was guilt, pure and simple.

Why hadn't I stopped Calem and Misty when it became obvious that they weren't just fooling around? Hell, why had I even joined in, insulting someone whose only crime was bringing me my homework?

Because you wanted to fit in, a small voice in the back of my head said mockingly. Almost like a evil devil was lurking in my shadows.

I scowled at my reflection, glaring at my angered face by gritting teeth, gripping the metal sink so hard my knuckles turned white. wanting to punch someone right now. 

"I don't need to fit in. I'm Ash Ketchum," I said out loud, shaking my raven hair from my eyes. They were long actually.

Precisely, the small voice crowed victoriously.

I knew exactly what my conscience was trying to tell me.

To tell you about myself. I'm Ash Ketchum the first, the only son of multimillionaire Giovanni Ketchum, and kantonion Delia Ketchum. My dad's wife.

Heir to a fortune so huge, nobody even wants to mention the amount of money I'll get when I turn 21, let alone when my dad dies and leaves all his money to me and my half sister, Leaf.

I'm a student at one of the most elite schools in Lumiose city and I have my own private limo and driver.

I've got unlimited credit, the pick of the hottest girls in the city and friends who are always ready to party with me.

And as that rich, supremely privileged person, I'm expected to act a certain way.

People take one look at me and expect me to be a idiot, spoilt boy, only interested in spending his dad's money. And so what do I do? Well, I prove them right. I act like a idiot, spoilt boy, and I spend my dad's money. And guess what?

I hate every second of it.

I hate being rich.

I hate living in this ridiculously expensive penthouse and sleeping on 1200 thread count sheets.

I hate being tagged the party boy and acting stupid just to fit in with my friends. I hate not living up to my father's expectations.

And most of all, I hate pretending to be someone I'm not. Like roasting a poor, innocent cute girl in front of my friends, just because they think it'll be fun and because acting like a nasty, stuck up is expected of someone as rich as me.

'But when it comes to treating people with respect and dignity, I have you rich people whipped.'

Those words had been floating around my head since last night, intense my already throbbing headache. They cut deep and they made my face the honest truth.

I was a jerk. And that meant I had to apologize to Serena, or I wouldn't be getting any sleep for a long time. But I wasn't apologizing just for the sake of my sleep; I was apologizing because of how hurt and tear-filled her sapphire eyes had been as she had turned to leave in the hall.

Later, Calem and Misty went home with laughs escaping from their mouths, humiliating the poor girl but I wasn't. I didn't feel like doing it.

After I made up my mind to say sorry, a weight felt like it was lifted from my shoulders.

I even started whistling as I grabbed two paracetamol from draws and walked out bathroom door, heading downstairs where I saw servants cleaning around as I kept on walking to the kitchen, which was clearly empty, to get a glass of orange juice from fridge.

I took it out and place on table alongside a toaster and tools before taking out a cleaned cup from draws. Sparkling shine in my hand and place on table.

I unclipped the juice open completely and poured it out into a empty glass as It raises up nearly to the top.

I was about to drink it in one gulp but forgot one thing, which was taking out a bread from fridge. By the looks of It. It was kind of out of date. Who cares.

Now, I was having fun. Until My cheerful mood went down the tubes as my dad strode into the kitchen, his cell phone clamped to his ear and a scowl was on his face.

I ignored the scowl, concentrating on making a sandwich. He was always angry about one thing or another in the morning. Sometimes, his yelling on the phone was what woke me up as My own personal alarm clock. But somehow, I knew that today's bad mood had something to do with me.

"Hey, dad," I said cheerfully, leaning against the wall as my vision suddenly doubled. "Want a sandwich?" I asked.

"What happened yesterday?" dad barked, snapping his slim phone shut in his hand, stuffing it in his pocket and glaring right at me.

Apparently he didn't want that sandwich.

And you see how right I was? His bad mood was my fault! Not only was I rich, I was psychic too?

If I started hearing peoples thoughts I was going to kill myself. I wasn't interested in knowing what people thought of me. Sometimes, I even hated myself.

I shrugged, trying to look as innocent as possible. I had an idea where this was headed.

"What happened with what?" I asked, taking a bite out of the rather dry sandwich. Damn it. I forgot the ketchup.

Dad stepped closer to me, stabbing his finger into my chest. I flinched at the angry look in his dark black eyes. He was well and truly pissed off, thanks to me.

"Don't play dumb with me, young man; you know what I'm talking about. I made an appointment for you to go see the best doctor in the country," he spat in my face, his glaring eyes locked on mine.

"I had to call in some favors, grease a few palms, all so Doctors could get your head checked out." Suddenly, He slapped me hard on the forehead as he said this, making me painfully wince.

"I even let you stay home from school so you could get ready! And what happens? You don't even bother showing up for your stupid appointment!"

Yeah, I know what you're thinking, a whole day for just one doctors appointment? Blame my dad. He doesn't know how close I am to being expelled. Missing a day of school for no apparent reason is just more reasons for the school to kick me out.

"I can explain," I started, holding up my arms in defence. Gazing at my dad if he could give me a chance.

I was a brown belt in karate, but I didn't think I was a match for dad. He had pure animalistic rage on his side today. All I had on my side was a headache.

"Oh, yeah, I'm sure you can," dad said, chuckling without humor as he started to pace around the kitchen which was way big.

He placed his hands behind his back and looked at me. Stood up straight. "Well? Start explaining, kiddo. I'm anxious to see how the legendary Ash Ketchum, with all his fairy tales, can get out of this one."

I took a deep breath through my closed cleaned teeth, racking my brain for any lie I could tell that would seem believable. None came. My mind was totally blank. So I guess it's another plan.

"I don't care. I don't want to know what's wrong with me," I said finally, feeling like a wuss for even saying it out loud.

A couple of weeks ago, I went to my doctor's office for my regular check up. The x-rays uncovered something that my doctor wasn't quite sure about, a growth in my brain. "It's probably nothing, but let me refer you to a neurologist," he told my dad, who came into the doctors office fuming because the call made him miss a golf game.

Because golf is way more important than your only son's health, right?

When I heard that I had a strange growth in my brain, I was scared, first time in life.

I didn't sleep for two nights straight. Even now, I was positive that it was more than just 'nothing' as doctor Brock had put it. Coupled with my headaches, the growth-it could be a tumor.

And I didn't want to find out.

"I don't want to know what's wrong with me," dad mimicked, sneering into my tanned face.

I groaned silently. Same old thing. He was a bully in every sense of the word. And his favorite target? Me, of course.

His voice instantly turned cold. "You think I'm letting you chicken out of this appointment? I don't care if you piss yourself when you're getting that yellow CAT scan, you'll go to the hospital and they'll find out what's wrong with you."

"And I guess it doesn't matter if I want to know or not, right?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"You damn right it doesn't." Dad laughed again, stopping right in front of me. "You done acting like a schmuck?" he asked, leaning in so close into my face. I could smell the alcohol on his breath. There was no use in arguing with him when he is acting like this.

I simply nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good," he snarled, looking more like a club bouncer. A businessman he was supposed to be. "This afternoon. 3.45. Mount Kalos. I'll pick you up myself. Understand?" He demanded. Still glaring at me.

I nodded dumbly, hating the way he always talked down to me, making me feel like a kid again. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him, so why should I try? We all knew I was gonna end up a screw up, anyway.

"Sure," I mumbled under my breath.

His eyes gazed relentlessly into my face, searching for something, a sign of weakness, maybe.

I stared back at him impassively, willing myself not to blink.

Seemingly satisfied, he nodded and took a step back while I moved forward from the wall. He grabbed an red apple from a fruit bowl which had plenty different fruits in it and Puts it in his pocket.

"Good. Go get your bag and get a move on. You're going to make me late," he ordered, already walking out of the kitchen. I followed him into a empty living room, my lack of sleep making me feel so slow.

I'm going to make him late? Since when did I ride with him- anywhere?

"I got a ride," I protested lamely, knowing that it was no use.

Dad owned every conversation. He was always right. This meant I was going to have to spend 5 minutes in his limo as he yelled out some poor unfortunate sucker on his phone. Bully.

"Misty' picking me up." I simply replied. Sitting down on couch, opposite to my dad who also sat down mutely.

He grabbed his newspapers off of the coffee table, not looking at me as he just reads on while talking.

"Every time, every time Misty picks you up, you and your friends head over to her house for one of your stupid parties. You're going to school today, son. And if I have to walk you into the building myself, so be it. Let's get a move on."

I didn't even bother replying and telling him that I hadn't even been to Misty's since Gary died. He wouldn't listen. He wouldn't even care. Gary had been my best friend in the whole wide world since we were in diapers and my dad hadn't even gone to the funeral. Not even one day.

He'd even had the nerve to say Gary, who had dabbled in drugs from time to time which had brought his death upon himself and that I would be next.

What my dad forgot was that Gary died in a car accident, not from an overdose.

Ever since that day, my respect for my dad just- slid away like an avalanche.

He was still my dad, but he was too wrapped up in his own awesomeness to give a crap about me. Unless he was trying to run my life, like now.

I stood up from my seat with a grunt and head upstairs to my bed room, getting ready for school. When I was done, I went downstairs. Taking me about a minute to finish.

I reached downstairs as I grabbed my light weighted bag from a metal hook. Then Me and my dad went down the elevator in total silence, except for the occasional rustling of newspaper.

The elevator split open as we landed on ground and head out of the penthouse through wooden doors. The servants pushed doors open where drops of heavy rain poured outside in a overcasting weather.

Dad's Mercedes limo was parked right outside our building and we got in with umbrella's being held over our heads even though it was barely showering like mad. Just another perk of being rich and infamous, right? Trust me, it sucks being me.

As I got in the limo with my dad. We were both silent in most of the drive to school till out of the blue-

"You better not skip out on me today. You have any idea how much that missed appointment cost me? You always cost me cash with your histrionics," dad barked. Can't he keep the noise down for once.

I slouched back in the comfortable seat of the limo, taking out a metal can from my bag, popping open a can of Dr. Pepper and swigging down with my paracetamol that made my throat wet in fizz and headache completely gone.

"I'll pay you back when I'm 21 and gain access to my trust fund money," I replied evenly, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.

He snorted loud. "If I come pick you up and you're not at the front desk, you're in deep trouble, young man," he said, changing the subject in a meaning tone.

I stared out of the tinted window beside at the people that were hurrying up and down the sidewalks with some using umbrellas while other wear hoodies as rain was pouring more and wondered if Serena was there.

"Can't wait," I said idly, sticking my hands in the pockets of my grey jeans. Finishing my fizzy drink in my other hand and put in bin beside.

Finally after a short drive. The car stopped at the Lumiose school entrance with no one around outside. Dad glared at me over his newspaper.

I could see the first page were a football team Real Madrid won against Bayern Munich 4-2.

"Get the hell out."

Just another warm, family moment.

"Gotcha," I mumbled, opening the door and stepping out of the car, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the light and pain flared up in my temples.

I slammed the car door shut as it drives off away from my sight and walked slowly up the stairs to school entrance, wondering if the nurse had something stronger than paracetamol. Like maybe a drug.