the ripper || irwin

[ 8 ] we're all from hell

“What did you do to Luke?” She asked again.

“Nothing.” He responded.

“He has a pentagram scar on his wrist.” She said.

Ashton shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t do that to him.”

“It could have only been you.” She accused.

He shook his head. “You aren’t very intelligent, are you?” He mocked, a smirk appearing on his handsome face.

“What do you mean?” She gasped, feeling offended.

“Well, if you’d look at the obvious signs, you would realize I had nothing to do with his tribute. I’ve only been here a few days. Wouldn’t he have a big bloody scar on his wrist if it had been me? His scar looks years old.” He explained to her, as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world. “Just look at mine.” He told her, rolling up the sleeve of his white patient shirt.

Her blue eyes fell upon a pinkish colored pentagram scar on his wrist.

“Mine still looks fresh and its almost two years old. When a scar is older, it turns almost the same color as the skin.” He pointed out. “Look, I’m all for murdering people and ripping people apart, but I’m not taking the blame for something I actually didn’t do.”

He was right.

Luke’s scar didn’t seem bloody at all, but rather it seemed like a completely healed scar.

She held her breath. “When do you suppose he got this scar? I never saw it before.”

Ashton shook his head, uncaringly, “I don’t know. But now you know your little brother isn’t as innocent is you think. He’s part of my world.”

“Or maybe you’re part of his.” I said in a whisper.

My words caused him to chuckle. Shaking his head, he said, “We’re all from Hell.”

Alice was speechless.

But more than anything , she was in denial. “Not Luke. Luke is good.”

“Keep telling yourself that. But he has the scar. He was chosen. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

A heart wrenching chill ran down her spine as she remembered the way Luke had yelled at her earlier. It was a behavior so out of character for him, yet it was something that she’d seen at least once in him.

Ashton’s voice pulled her back to reality. “Isn’t this supposed to be my session? I didn’t know my recovery included resolving your problems.” His statement was amused, mocking. Nothing seemed to frighten or phase him.

His hand reached into his patient coat pocket and brought out two folded sheets of paper.

He handed them to Alice and she looked at it. “What is this?”

“The new pieces of the puzzle.” He replied.

Across

8. I wear a _____ on my wrist, because it’s only a matter of time.

17. I stabbed him in the ____.

 

Down

20. You made ____ bed, and now you’ll have to lie in it. 

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She walked down the hallway of the hospital, on her way to her brother’s room when she saw two boys wandering the halls by themselves.

They seemed to be lost, but they weren’t patients.

Though they did seemed a bit troubled.

Both boys had dark circles under their eyes and one of them was unnaturally palid. They also looked like they hadn’t ate much their whole lives.

“Excuse me.” One of them called out to her.

She nodded, pretending to look up from her clipboard. “May I help you?” She asked them with a warm smile and a helpful tone to her voice.

“Yeah.” The raven haired boy said, sounding a bit nervous.

“We’re looking for our brother.” The other told Alice. “We found out that he’s here.”

“Sure,” Alice said, “And who might your brother be?”

Both of them seemed to take a deep breath before they said together,

“Ashton--Ashton Irwin.”