Hypocrisy (Austlan Cashby)

Chapter 25

Awoken by kisses is the best thing, but being awoken by Austin's kisses is different. He has his own way, like he does with pretty much everything else.

First, he puts his hand on my cheek, so I'm not as alarmed and kiss back quicker than if he would just shove his mouth on mine. Delicately, he traces his calloused fingers along my pale cheeks, and the soft scrape of the toughness of his fingers against my soft skin, never fails to make me tingle.

Then, he straddles me lightly, almost jokingly like when we were little kids and I stole something of his, the act held pure innocence. Gently, he'll lay down a bit to get closer to my face. At this point, he teases and makes it to were I can feel his warm breath plastering my face, almost in coats. The whole point of this is for me to kiss him first, but being the impatient person Austin is, if I wait long enough he'll kiss me first.

At first, he does small pecks that are never connected. Kind of like the ones you get from grandma at family reunions. Then, he'll string them together to make sure I am aware and participating. His hands always make it to my wrist and he finds a way to hold them back in a swift movement.

Being awoken by Austin Carlile is the best experience ever.

-

I woke up to the absence of weight on my hips, meaning it was all just a dream. I was alone, in a different state, and hungry. But, as much as my stomach pleaded for food, I couldn't find myself actually wanting to eat. So, I resorted to an alcoholic beverage.

For a moment, I held the familiar piece of metal in my hand and twisted it so the dull lamp light could shine off of it. Debating wether or not tearing my skin apart was the hardest decision in my life. Normally, I wouldn't have even thought about it before plunging the edge in my skin, but this was different. Austin wouldn't want me to. I know he wouldn't, no matter how mad he is at me, his weakness was my cuts. I wasn't going to use that against him, so I put the blade down.

But, that doesn't mean I couldn't resort to a different type of self destruction. Drinking more of the unfamiliar alcohol, I turned on the tv.

There on the screen was a picture of Austin and I. Turning up the volume, I listened to the words they were saying.

"Alan Anthony Ashby, 103 pounds, red hair, and tattoos, went missing almost a month ago. There has been no trace as to where they went, but if you could keep an eye out on the streets for these two teenagers, there will be a money reward."

Well, fuck. Never did I think that I'd be on tv or that this would go to this extent. Thinking back, I haven't watched the news since we left. How long have they been searching for us? I mean, no one is really doing their best at looking. For, we haven't been intentionally secretive about the whole entire thing. Walking to Starbucks and just forming into normal people, not runaways. I don't even know why I didn't think of this earlier. Of course there would be people looking for us. You see things all of the time on the news paper of missing kids, why did I think I'd be different?

Maybe it's because I'm not missing, this runaway was on purpose. Personally, I think my mom and dad wouldn't be so blind and see that it was clearly intentional. I hope that they aren't trying to pull this off as some type of kidnapping. Who the hell would want me?

Or maybe it was because they wouldn't want to admit that they chased their son away. Never owning up to her actions was something my mom was a pro in. I should now, I came out of her.

But, putting things out like this means she is somewhat worried. That, or she want the attention. Is it sad that I'm expecting the later? It's just like her. Anything that would put her out there like this, she would take a hold of. Even her son missing.

It all makes sense now. She just wanted attention, not her son back. It's sad to say that it doesn't surprise me or hurt me. Over the years, I have become unusually used to it.

It's sad what a messed up child hood could make you get used to.

But, the things that scares me most is my thoughts.

Could I just turn myself in? Just walk back home and live there. It'd certainly be less trouble.

That's what I have to do.

I have to turn myself in.

I have to go home.