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luke's pov

it was after my nap and severe hangover that we were allowed to see ashton.

we all walk in, hoping for the best but knowing that it will be terrible either way.

he looks dead.

my ashton is laying there, needles stuck in his arms. he hates needles.

i almost break down crying.

he has scratches on his face, a busted lip and bruises covering his arms.

if i cry, michael will kill me. and he's already on the verge of tears. so i do what i can.

i run.

i run out of the room, the hospital, the lot and run all the way to an abandoned park. my park.

i sit and i think.

and i realize what i've known but haven't been able to process.

this is my fault.

and that's when i start crying.

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