Ava lived in a beach house with her mother and nanny, Aria. Her father was always away overseas, doing whatever business he does.

She misses him. And resents him all at the same time. After all, he had left her with a woman who neglects her all the time. She has absolutely no idea why her mother doesn’t care about her. All the other moms she had met hugged their children upon meeting them, made them their favorite foods, told them that they loved them.

She never got any of that from her mother. When she asked her father why, he looked at her sadly and said, “She does. She really does. But I don’t think you’ll understand why she doesn’t show it.”

That was probably her first vivid memory of anger. She didn’t believe him. She thought he was just defending her because he loved her mother. However, the conversation ended there. She never got an explanation.

Instead, she tried to get her mother’s attention.

“Mommy, can we go get ice cream?” she asked one day when her mom was in her office.

Her mother glanced down at her. Ava mustered the sweetest smile she could. The expression hurt her face a little.

“Uh, maybe. I’m busy” she answered curtly, going back to her paperwork.

“But it’ll be quick. The ice-cream parlor is right there” she pouted, tugging at the hem of her mother’s dress slightly.

“If you want ice-cream that badly, go ask Aria” she sighed. Ava stood there for a few seconds, wondering if she should persist.

“Please” she tried once more. Her mother sighed heavily and got up slowly.

“Fine” she muttered, an annoyed expression was on her face. But Ava didn’t care. She had finally gotten her mother to look at her. They walked across the street to the parlor. Ava ordered mint chocolate chip while her mother got nothing.

As Ava happily licked her cone, she heard her mother quietly murmur something.

“Why don't you make any friends?” She asked. It didn't sound like she was talking to Ava. It was more like she was talking to herself.

Her mother let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, who am I kidding. Why would anyone want to be friends with people like you?” She said, getting up and grabbing her hand. They walked back home in silence.

That night was Ava's first memory of crying. She wasn't an emotional person. She wasn't easily hurt either. But that day, she was hurt. She didn't know what her mother meant by “people like her”. She didn't understand and it frustrated her. What her mother had said had upset her. She didn't like the feeling.

So she never let anyone get close enough to her to hurt her. She was already very quiet, and now she shuts everyone out altogether.

~~~

This lifestyle she had chosen for herself was comfortable until about a year after the incident. Her mother was speaking to some parents of her classmates, and Ava was brought up in conversation.

“Ava doesn’t talk much, now does she?” some parent pointed.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s like that at home, too”, her mom explained, fidgeting slightly.

“Maybe you should take her to see someone. Maybe she has social anxiety?” another mom suggested.

Ava still hates that lady to this day. Because of her, her mother scheduled an appointment with a psychiatrist.

The doctor was nice to her. She spoke in a soft, almost hypnotic, voice, and asked her questions. Mostly about school and what she liked to do.

Despite her initial reluctance to give anything but one-word answers, she eventually gave in and opened up. Ava told the doctor that she liked to draw and look at art. She talked about the time that he dad took to the art museum and what she liked to draw. She rambled on for a little, and the doctor smiled, nodded, and wrote stuff on her clipboard.

The doctor let Ava’s mother in. She gave her a pencil and some paper to keep her occupied while the doctor and her mother talked. Ava doodled on the paper but paid attention to what they were saying.

There was a lot of talking that Ava didn’t don't understand, so she couldn’t follow on with the conversation. The doctor then mentioned, “Asperger’s Syndrome” and her mother suddenly looked really sad. As if she had expected this to be the outcome.

“Thank you so much,” her mother said to the doctor before leading Ava out of the building.

Ava’s mother talked to her even less after that if that was possible. Ava looked up what Asperger’s Syndrome is and found out it was one of the subtypes of autism that affected social interactions.

She wondered if her mother wanted a normal child, and she hated Ava because she wasn’t “normal.” She’s not sure if she even wants to know; after all, she wants to avoid getting hurt.