Clean Slate » a.i. au

Twenty-One

         It's like watching a movie. Or hearing a story about it happening to someone else. Not only in my head, but also in my entire body – not one percent of me is currently comprehending the fact that I am lying half-naked in bed, a single blanket covering my bare ass while I hold the side of my body, just inches from my left breast, in order to not bleed out.

         Every part of this feels unreal. Every inch of me is refusing to believe it's real. Although – the blood finding its way through my fingers, despite my pathetic attempts to try and block it from pouring out, causes tears in my eyes; the want, the need to believe that I'm not about to bleed to death is slowly losing to reality.

         And as for reality, even though I can't see him from how I'm lying on my side, I know he's there, I know he still has that god forsaken gun in his hand, and I know he's going to shoot me again. I know he'd rather watch me and my boyfriend die than let us be happy.

         Or maybe he wants me to suffer. Maybe he's going to stand there, and watch me shake and cry as more and more of the mattress I'm lying on becomes red in color. Maybe misery, fear and regret are the last things he wants to see in my eyes before they become motionless once and for all.

         "Ashton... Ashton..."

         My blurred vision clears up for a second as rage and anger take over me for just as long; one thing I am going to make sure happens, is that Ashton's name is the last thing he hears from me. Even though Ashton probably already can't hear me, nor will he ever again, his name will be what I use my last breath on. "Ashton. Ashton!"

         A loud thump, and then a series of sounds of struggling interrupt me; the first few moments I'm surprised, and then a bit scared, using much of my energy on those couple of emotions. It's dark, and I can't see well from being near passing out, so I can't really tell what's going on. It's probably Riley's drunken ass bumping into furniture and-

         My eyes widen and another adrenaline rush strikes me when I hear another voice, groaning in anger, and then even more of what sounds like wrestling; about a minute into it another loud thud echoes through the apartment, a yelp, a shout, and- a slam.

         And then, another slam. And another one. My eyes are wide and my heart is beating faster than it can afford to – but I can't contain myself. The facts that Riley probably isn't drunk enough to fall over and beat himself up, and that I'm almost completely sure the other voice I heard was Ashton's, I just, I can't calm down. If I saw his face now, alive, the wound would probably heal itself on the spot.

         Just please, please, don't let it be a neighbor who heard the noise and came to intervene. Of course we need the help, of course, but if my dumbass brain wanted that other voice to be Ashton's so much that is completely made it up-

         "Lucy?"

         Once again, the same rush of adrenaline bursts through my entire being – as well as relief. "Ashton!"

         "Lucy!"

         "Ashton!"

         "Lucy!"

         "Ashton, oh my- God, Ashton-"

         "Lucy!" If we get through this, I might even look back on the two of us yelling each other's names through sobs as something funny. "Lucy, don't worry, someone's gonna-"

         "Oh my God, what the hell happened here?" A third voice is heard, undoubtedly the woman next to us who looked after Kai while we weren't home – just now I'm hearing his whines from somewhere in the apartment. He'll have to forgive me for not crossing my mind while I thought Ashton was dead.