The Chase ▹ Ashton Irwin

CHAPTER SEVENTY FIVE

After another 20 minutes of contiplating whether I should just stop walking, wake up, and hug Brooke, I got to where I needed to be. A familiar street sign and the faint noises of police sirens gave me a shitty feeling of nostalgia I wish I could shake off. I stopped where I was, my hands starting to shake. Why am I here.

I need to wake up.

But I didn't wake up, and I kept walking down the street. I haven't seen this street since I was six, but it looked so fucking familiar, like I've been here everyday for the past 11 years. It was the complete opposite, actually.

I need to wake up.

And there it was, in all its false glory. A one story, bar-windowed, vancant house that was only slightly illuminated by the pale yellow street light. It looked smaller than I remember, and I guess the last time I saw it I didn't realize how sad it really looked.

I need to fucking wake up.

It made my hands shake even more than they were before; and I wasn't sure if it was from the cold, or from my nervousness that bubbled up in my stomach, and quickly spread to the rest of my body. I just stared at it. Not once did my eyes blink, and not once did I seem to feel anything in my eyes, body, or thoughts.

Everything was blank, and I needed to wake up.

Memories of my childhood suddenly flooded into my brain, making me wince in pain. The yelling, the screaming, the crying, the nights I spent alone, too young to know what was going on, and too scared to do anything about it.

That's what it all came down to: fear. Fear of so many things, yet I could never put my finger on just one thing that I was scared of. Even after I was separated from my home, fear never left my mind. I was scared of what would become of my mum, of what would become of my "dad", what would become of my grandmother, and what would become of me. Growing up with my Grandma with barely anything, really seemed to scare me even more. As I got older, so did my innoncence, until it was completely gone. Maybe that's why I turned into the fucked up teen I was, because I was scared. Scared of what, I don't know.

Maybe it was all the things I could have done to save my mum, Jessie, even myself. But I didn't do anything, and look where that got my mum, Jessie, and myself.

I really, really, desperately, need to wake up.

"It's all my fault." I said, though my voice could no longer be distinguished to myself.

The only thing I could think of that could ever seem to keep me from going insane at this point, was Brooke. My beautiful, beautiful Brooke. Honestly, it was as if she was the only one who could say I'm not crazy, and actually get me to have hope that I'm not. Maybe I am not. I trust Brooke with everything in my heart, so maybe what she says is true. I want to believe her, and maybe I just need to get out of town for a while.

But what I said to her before we fell asleep was a definite factor of the fear I still felt bubbling up inside of me. There's something going on in that big ass house of hers, and I could only imagine what it is. As much as I don't want to say it, and assume things, I can't help myself but wonder how Brooke would feel if what I seem to think was true. Maybe I'm wrong...maybe it's nothing. But the last thing I want is for Brooke to ever feel like anything was ever her fault. Because nothing is. The only thing she's managed to do, was keep me grounded and drag me out of that wierd and distant phase I was in before she moved here.

So, in reality, all Brooke has done is help me, and I'll never be more grateful for that.

Without thinking, a breathless gasp escaped my mouth as I bent down, snatching a medium sized rock off the ground. With no hesitation, I threw that rock as hard as I could, and watched as it hit the rickety door with a thump.