Ashley's Asylum (3)

17 | Ashley's Asylum

Sam chuckled darkly. "Isn't it obvious? Me and Michael were under a lot of heat, so I thought it'd be safer if we left. I didn't want them to get dragged into it all." He glanced over at her with damp eyes and a bitter smile. "Funny right?"

Ashley's face contorted, wondering how he could be so brazen about it. She looked around the room, trying to gather her emotions. The next question she had for him was a logical follow on from the last one.

"Do you know who did it?" She asked after a moment's hesitation.

He sat up straight and cleared his throat. "What does it matter? Everyone thinks it was me" he responded dismissively before he helped himself to another swig of whisky.

Ashley sat up further too. "Don't you want to know? You could get revenge, it's not like you have anything to lose?" she offered like it was obvious.

"Where has revenge gotten me so far?" He snapped before he gave her a playful frown, "and careful Ashley, you're beginning to sympathise with a serial killer."

"No," Ashley responded firmly, taken back by the suggestion. "What you've done isn't revenge. You've killed innocent people."

Sam rose his eyebrows in query. "Have I?"

Ashley looked away from him crossly. Of course he had, all those girls couldn't have done something that warranted the awful things he did. "Those girls didn't deserve what you did to them" she replied crisply.

Sam looked down at his hands. "Maybe." He glanced up at her. "Maybe not."

They stared at one another until Ashley looked away.

"Like I said, what does it matter" Sam added after a moment of silence. "It's all in the past. All that matters now is this moment."

Ashley felt that it mattered an awful lot. Even if Sam's past was complex, and he felt that his actions were justified, she could see deep down he held an aura of uncertainty about the things he'd done. That meant something. Yet she wanted to know how hurting all of those girls could possibly atone for what happened to his sisters.

It was obvious the topic was closed for further discussion for now. Ashley didn't fancy prodding Sam either since he'd polished off quarter a bottle of whisky.

He stood unexpectedly with a grunt and after a little wobble opened his arms to her. "Come on, lets dance."

Ashley looked up at him gravely, like it was a threat.

He shrugged off her expression. "I want to be happy! Make me happy!" he exclaimed coarsely. "Here have some!"

He pushed the bottle of whisky into her face. She wrinkled her nose, her last taste still fresh in her throat. She took the bottle from him and took the smallest swig she could manage before placing it on the floor out of his reach.

Sam took her wrists immediately after and dragged her up. Ashley winced as her feet groaned in response. He noticed and let go of one wrist to cup her cheek.

"Oh," he cooed, "your little feet."

Ashley glowered up at him, feeling immensely patronised. "Get off" she snapped and brushed his hand away from her face.

Sam dropped his hands away and smiled. "I'll let you stand on my feet?"

"Or we could simply not dance" she pointed out.

Sam scowled at her briefly, he seemed to disagree. "Let's pretend for a little while, that we don't hate each other hm? And while we're at it you can pretend you're not so annoying, conceited or the sister of a fuckhead?"