Ashlynn took a deep breath before turning around. Her back turned to me, where she took her shirt off and exposed what appeared to be numerous smaller scars along with the one larger one that caught my eye twice that day. At first, I hadn't understood why she took her shirt off, but after having saw that I understood why. All of those scars, they would remain on her skin permanently, like unwelcomed tattoos. With that, the picture became that much clearer.
"They came from my dad." Ashlynn spoke softly as her hand rested on her shoulder. "He came home drunk one night from a bar and started yelling at me, saying that it was my fault that our mom died."
Taking a step closer, I remained silent as Ashlynn still held her shoulder. It was clear that she was putting together, formulating words. Explaining something traumatic to someone was difficult, and even more difficult when it was someone you cared about. You didn't want them to judge you for what happened in the past, you don't want them to judge you for something you never had any control over. Yet, I'm sure some people would have, just like they'd done to me.
"He pushed me and I fell through the glass coffee table we had." Ashlynn answered. "I don't know if it was like cheap or whatever, but it shattered everywhere. I think that's where most of these came from."
Before she finished her sentence, my hand met her own - both now resting on her shoulder. I leaned in, my right hand caught the inward bend of her stomach and sat as still as a possum playing dead. There hadn't been anything I could've said to her, nor was there anything I could do for her at that moment. Had this been all I was ever able to do? Was I that useless?
Why was I constantly so powerless? Why couldn't I ever do anything for someone right when they needed it? So many times I'd seen someone I cared about get hurt by something other than myself, and yet I could do nothing. I was too powerless, too weak, and too fragile to even think about doing something. Even if I had some of those things now, I never had all of them - especially the one I needed at that moment. That was empathy.
"I'm not going to say anything more about it, or do anything about it right now." I spoke into her ear. "But it shouldn't be tough to guess what happens if he ever shows up around here."
"What are you saying?" I felt Ashlynn quickly breathe in as her head rose. "If he follows me here, I'll do it myself. I'm not going to make you do something that isn't even related to you."
She wouldn't. Ashlynn didn't have an idea of how hard it would be to stick that knife in her own parents chest, to metaphorically kill them and rid herself of the toxicity that controlled her life.
"It is related to me." I answered. "I'm sick of seeing myself do nothing when I can do something, somewhere."
Ashlynn turned around, her open palm touched my chest as she stared eye level with my ribs. It wasn't an awkward silence, nor was it a moment where someone had needed to say something. Simply nothing needed to be said, not because expressions spoke a million words, or smiles answered every question, but because there was a sense of satisfaction, of being content.
Instead of saying or moving, Ashlynn let her hands move behind her back. In only seconds, her bra had come off of her shoulders and fell to the beige carpet beneath her feet. She began walking backwards towards the bed, kicking her shoes off in the process. This only left her in her jeans as her hair bounced over and behind her shoulders with each step. I, wordlessly, followed her lead, walking to the bed in what felt like the smallest possible stride I'd ever walked.
Letting herself fall back onto the bed, I followed suit as my knees began to force her legs apart. Ashlynn, however, had went on the attack herself - much like earlier - her lips had locked onto and into mine. Her right hand had motioned up and over my shoulder before it had finally met the back of my neck. Soon, her left had followed the same pattern, while the sensual atmosphere had turned a bit more aggressive - competitive, even.
She broke away, smirking just like she had earlier.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
**
I had awoken with a weight on my chest - not metaphorically, but literally. Ashlynn been lightly snoring as her bangs covered her eyes, all while her hand had been latched on to my own. This, unfortunately, had left me in a position where I would have been unable to get up without waking her. So, I had the two choices of either going back to sleep or waiting until she got up. Technically, it had been the latter, and brought about a situation that I never would have guessed.
Ashlynn's phone buzzed three or so times as the screen popped on. Normally, I would have left it alone as it hadn't been mine nor was I one to snoop. What had changed that decision for me, however, was the name on lightened screen. It hadn't been Ava, nor anyone else I had known. In fact, I had just heard about him the previous night. It had been her father sending the text - I mean, unless she had a friend named Dad - which wasn't likely, to say the least.
"Where are you?" the text wrote.
"I'm with my boyfriend." I wrote back. "If you want to come get me I'm at 2584 Diverel Ave, Broxy Hotel in room 9."
Why did I give away the address? Why did I tell him where she was staying? It was obvious. I made a promise to Ashlynn, and I was going to fulfill a promise for once in my life. I was going to do something I said I was going to do. I was tired of never being good for my word, and I wanted to change it. Had it been narcissistic of me? Sure, but I was tired of being that guy. Sick and absolutely tired.
I couldn't ever live up to anyone's expectations, and maybe I'd just gotten used to the feeling of disappointment from others, but I had forgotten how it felt to be paid attention to - to be given a fuck about. Even if it wasn't the person that the world had so cruelly stolen from me, I wanted to do something that would make her feel okay, secure in some form, in some way.
Would beating the ever-living hell out of her father make her feel that way? I couldn't say, but I knew it would've put that metaphorical security blanket over me. I didn't need another intervening father in my life, especially a drunk, abusive piece of living garbage like him. If he actually decided to chase her, I was going to crush him whether Ashlynn wanted it or not. I was going to make him feel the pain he delivered unto his daughter. Every last bit of it. Not because of her, and not to make up for what I was unable to do for Kylie, but for myself.
He was going to feel just how unwelcomed he'd become in her life. I was going to make sure of that. As the text went through, I pressed down on the message and deleted the text itself. Then I went into her contacts and blocked his number, just for safety. Just as I'd reached over her to set her phone back down on the nightstand was when Ashlynn had begun to rustle some and then open her eyes.
"Hey." I heard a slight rasp in her voice. "How long have you been awake?"
"Ten minutes, maybe?" my head continued to rest on my hand. "Twenty tops."
Ashlynn sat up, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. Did she always look that good when she just woke up, or was it just been because she had no clothes on? Turning her head ever so slightly, I could see her looking out of the corner of her eye - directly at me - without any attempt to hide it. I sat up myself, looking back at her. As thought just to tease me, she had dropped the blanket and stood up, leaving herself bare.
"I'm going to take a shower." she walked teasingly, stopping just as she touched the door.
Had I made a mistake texting her father, giving him the address the way I did? How had Ashlynn really seen me after all of what I had told her? Had she judged me for the things I did and said? Where would I have been known if I had met her after Kylie had died? What would have happened to the people I knew, and hurt? Would things have been any different if I had met her before I had fallen into a black abyss?
Would she have forced to me have gotten help, or would she, herself, have been the help that I needed? Would she have understood what I was feeling, the pain of loss and uncontrollable desire to run away from everything and everyone - to want to be swallowed by the darkness that chases, that haunts, and creeps until it achieves what it desires?
All of those mornings I had spent snoring away, all of the mornings I had spent sleeping into the afternoons - had they all been for a reason, or for nothing at all? Had my own putrid existence been there for a reason, or had I been an existence that was built for the sake of solely crashing and burning at every turn in life? Who was I, and what was I?
What was I worth to others? Had I been good for some drugs and a laugh, or had people actually wanted me around? Was I a normal person, or a teenager up to his neck in insecurities? Had there been people who cared if I was still alive today, or would they have preferred that I was dead? Had they not cared at all? Had I wanted to go back to the way I used to be?
Had I wanted to be that kid again, drugged up and uncaring, ready for sex and parties at the call? What about the kid before him, who had been blindly sad about everything, but had the love of his life with him. So, that everything wrong with him had become negligible? Had I wanted to go back to being either of them? What about the me that had existed in the present, what had I been right there? What would I have been a year from then? What would I have been twenty years from then? Who did I want to be? What did I want to be?
Ashlynn smacked the door frame, baring all.
"Hurry up."
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