Lifeless (lashton: completed)

chapter twelve.

Several days went by and tension was high between the two boys. Ashton relapsed when he got home the night when Luke snapped at him, and relapsed bad. Locking his rusted doorknob that squeaks with every turn, he shakily turned the shower on. It emitted steam, the whole bathroom transformed into a sauna. Ashton's tears mixed in with the sweat from the humidity of the room. He carefully removed his blade from the hiding place which only he knows about. Crying harder, he tore off his shirt. His ribs were visible when he sucked in, Ashton was convinced he wasn't nearly skinny enough. Painfully standing on the unstable scale, Luke's harsh words replayed over and over in his head.
"Fuck you. You know nothing about me and you never will." Luke was the only thing that kept Ashton from hurting himself, from wanting to die. Knowing not even Luke cares about him made him more depressed then ever. The red arrow of the scale perfectly rested on the tick that was under the unhealthy numbers, "100." Ashton was disgusted. How could he be so fat? Tears could no longer form in his eyes, he was too dehydrated to even think straight. As the shower water continued to make its way down the drain, Ashton began. Not satisfied with the immense blood running down his arm already, he relentlessly slashed and slashed until he no longer could count how many wounds he inflicted upon his arm. Wincing in pain, he crawled weakly to the sink to grab the bloodstained towel. He sat against the door, trying to catch his breaths. "H-he doesn't love me, I-I'm ugly and-and fat." Ashton could no longer hear, everything appeared fuzzy. As the blade left his small hand, he fell forward. With continuous blood running down his arm, the last conscious thought was he was finally going to be happy. No more yelling, no more hatred or worrying about his weight. The shower water became lukewarm, as his cold body was sprawled out on the granite floor. His heart slowly slowed itself, the heartbeat wasn't regained until the defibrillators brought him back to life.
-
His eyelids were shut closed, but a single tear escaped when he overheard the doctors tell his mum he was seconds away from death. The familiar smell stung his nostrils as he tiredly rubbed his eyes, preparing for his mothers lecture. She sat there, staring blankly at the tiny drops of blood that stained the fresh white blanket. Ashton threw his head back as he saw the blue hospital band that stated in bold black letters "suicide watch." He ran his finger through his soft knotty hair and focused his attention towards his mum. "I'm sick of doing this Ashton. You're old enough to know right from wrong. Stop craving the attention." She crossed her arms and let out an angry sigh. "It's not attention." Ashton responded back in a groggy voice. "Don't tell me what attention means. You're the definition of attention. You don't matter, you don't belong, you aren't my son. You're a disappointment and that's all you'll ever be. Hear me?" She sat up in the cracked plastic chair. Ashton swallowed and looked at the depressing hospital walls. "I said, do you hear me?" She made a fist in anger as she proceeded to stand up, getting closer to Ashton. "Ive always heard you, mumma. You're right." He spoke in a melancholy tone, hesitating to even look at her thin body from countless cigarettes. She shrugged angrily and grabbed her purse in a swift motion. "I'm leaving. Ill pick you up when you're discharged." She gave him a scowl as he heard her heels click down the linoleum floor. Hours went by without any excitement. Doctors tried to force feed Ashton jello and reduced fat saltines, but nothing would get him to even make an attempt at swallowing food. The night dragged on as a static cable channel broadcasted the local football game. Ashton picked at the fresh gauze that covered his entire wrist. He took a painful sip of ginger ale but immediately shuttered after, quickly counting how many calories he just consumed. He took a heavy sigh as his head met the flat pillow once again. But this time, he heard a noise in the halls. It wasn't the carbon sizzling in the soda, or the static from the TV. It wasn't even the wall clock ticking with every waking second, it was a familiar noise that he recognized in a heartbeat. And in that moment, Ashton shot up and directed his attention to the door. He heard a motorized hum, It was Luke's wheelchair.