Wicked Game (Dean Ambrose Fan Fic)

Taking Care of Business

on and Josh helped me dismantle my bed and they put it in Josh's truck. I had some business to take care of before I left. I was really really nervous. This was the first time I'd be going to see my dad in years. The first time he'll meet Jon and the first time Jon and Josh will see where I used to live. I know that both of them think I grew up on the suburb part of Cincinnati, but that just wasn't the case.  I used to when my mom was alive, but when she died my dad sold the house and moved us to the other side of town. It wasn't the best neighborhood and it was very dangerous as a kid growing up in this neighborhood. It was even worse being smart, pretty and talented in this neighborhood. I hated my dad for doing this to me. For being a drunk and a junkie. For choosing drugs and alcohol over me and my well being. For using my mom's death as an excuse for his behavior.

We pulled up to the apartment complex. Embarrassed I put my head down and got out of the truck.

"Josh your truck has an alarm right? And a lock on the glove box?"

"Yeah...why?"

"You'll need to use both. Jon can you hold my wallet in your pocket? I don't have pockets and I'm not going to carry my purse."

"Ashley you don't have to be embarrassed...I grew up on this side of town too."

I looked up and smiled at Jon. First things first I needed to take Jon with me to my dad's apartment. I mainly wanted Jon to go for moral support when shit hit the fan. It always does with my dad. I held tight to his hand as we walked down the hall towards his door. Memories came flooding back as we walked this hallway. The junkies and drunks in the hallways pawing at me as I walked home from school. The creepy guy from upstairs that used to pin me to the wall and try to get me to do things with him. The screaming, the yelling, the pounding, the nights living in fear that someone was going to break in and hurt me because the lock on our door was broken. I didn't have happy childhood memories like everyone else. Mine was a constant state of fear from age 8 on and I had a father who didn't care. These were "his friends" "his people" and no matter how many times I complained or came to him to tell him something that happened while walking the halls I was always the liar. I stopped at the door at the end of the hall. I looked up at the staircase praying the guy from upstairs was dead and if he wasn't that he didn't see me. Jon pulled me close and held me

"Ash..you're shaking"

"I am? I didn't notice."

"Hey...I'm here...nothing is going to happen."

I looked up and smiled as he kissed my forehead. I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. The lock was always broken and the maintenance guy didn't actually do maintenance. The place was a dump...as usual. Worse than I remember, but then again it's been 4 years. Liquor bottles and used syringes were amongst the garbage and crap on the floor. I didn't even want to be there anymore. Things were far worse than they ever were when I was growing up. Dirty dishes lined the counters and filled the sink. I was horrified that this is what Jon was seeing. I had literally always kept this part of my life a secret. No one knew...not even Tina and we had been friends for a very long time.  It was the old familiar scene when I walked past the kitchen to the living room. My dad laying on the futon watching TV with a bottle in his hand. I stepped on something that made a noise and he sat up