Hopeless? ~ Third Part of Loverboy.

Chapter 9. ~ Ashley.

He sounded so... wrong. So broken. So sad. And I just couldn't stand the fact. 

—"Hi... I think you were being serious. I... Okay, if this is what you want for the good of both of us, then I respect your decision. But I'll tell you one thing, Ashley Underwood: You'll never be able to get me away from you. Never. You hear that? Don't try it again, if that's what you're trying to do. I'll always love you. Always. I don't care what you say. Because I'm so selfish. I don't care what you think. I always will."

At this point, I wasn't afraid anymore of showing weakness in front of these two people. I knew there was nothing I could do but to wait for this bad time to pass, keeping the hope of a better day with me; so when all of me broke into tiny little pieces, I had no shame of showing what I was really feeling. 

I felt as if I was bleeding love, crying feelings felt and breathing sadness and repression. None of this was good. 

—No... No... No. —I whispered. 

Now it was more than clear to me that I had lost the only thing I had left. And perhaps even worse: he had lost me. 

I was surprised to hear my sobs. I had months without crying this much, maybe because I didn't let myself act out what I felt, but this was the straw that broke the camel's back. 

Dionne laughed as she recorded everything. —What is it, honey? Why are like this, if everything was your fault? —I caught a look at her smile—. Oh, wait, I think there's more. 

She put a few more messages, and with each change in his tone, with each sound wave issued by his voice, my whole being was breaking a little more. 

His voice went from being sad to be somewhat slippery, as if he were unsure of what to say. I tried to set aside the idea of ​​him drinking to numb his feelings of my head, but still, the thought got stuck deep in my brain. I knew that was exactly what he would do. 

Patrick and Dionne laughed a little more at me. —Look! There's a new one. Let's hear it. 

—"Hi, I, ehhh... I'm just calling to wish you a happy birthday. You don't how much I want to be with you at this time and celebrate together, but I guess life takes unexpected turns. So, I will not make this long because the message will be cut. I love you. I still don't understand. But I love you."

I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. I thanked heaven that the hallucinations caused by the drug had taken over my mind at that moment. 

I felt myself falling into an abyss, the wind stirring my hair around my face. I felt like a lightweight, like a delicate feather plummeting. Around me the sky was the mixture of a perfect blue and the phosphorescent pink twilight, and I swear that if I concentrated enough I could hear someone whispering my name softly. 

I was at peace. 

Suddenly, everything got dark and cold, and I felt my body crashing on the liquid but tense surface of the water, my back getting taking the impact. For a moment, I felt underwater voices tormenting me, drilling my skull with their cries and pleas. I had to swim to the surface before losing the only breath I had taken. 

Surprisingly, I swam up and after breathing again, I spread my arms and legs, and floated in the water that had now become a little warmer. Again, I closed my eyes and looked at the sky, this time filled with stars of various shades and the Moon at its maximum splendor. All was quiet again, until I felt countless pairs of arms over my body, pulling me back under the water's surface, locking me, choking me again, this time with no hope of leaving with life. 

I opened my eyes and breathed heavily, trying to catch the air that never really left my lungs. Patrick was standing near me and Dionne beside me. 

—You said... you said you wouldn't hurt him. —I tried to whisper between my uncontrolled breathing. 

Dionne snorted. —But I never promised anything. 

I bit my lip to stop the trembling that they had. I felt my hands getting colder and the blood didn't reach them beating strongly at the point where the rope wrapped my wrists. The sticky tears got me itchy as they moved down my neck, soaking the collar that Nathan had given me giving before going down to my chest. 

The bright flash of something I caught with the corner of my eye caught the attention of my reflections. I instantly turned my eyes to where it came from. 

A Beretta gun hanged from Dionne's belt loops. I admit I held my breath. Why did she have a gun for? 

Apparently, she realized what I saw, so the next thing she said was: —Oh, I see you already saw my new friend. —She half-smiled, pulled the gun out from where it was and twirled it around with her finger on the trigger's arc—. I was saving it for later, but I see you are somewhat interested in getting to know it better. 

Patrick asked something, but I couldn't hear him.

Dionne brought the gun to my face and stroked my cheek with it. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. 

—What is it, dear? —She said—. Are you afraid? —She came close to my ear and whispered. 

—Why are you doing this? —I said with my last air. 

Dionne dropped a laugh. —Why am I doing this? —She moved away from my ear, even though she was still close to my face. She brought the gun to my temple—. Because I want you both to know what it's like to have someone taking all you have left. Because I want you to remember the pain you feel at this moment the next time you think you can always get it your way... —She mumbled. 

—I didn't... I didn't do anything. —A hot tear fell down my cheek, if for the effort I needed to do to speak or for what I really felt at the time, I didn't know. 

—Think twice, Ashley Underwood; think twice when you say that. —She took my hair in one of her fists and forced my head back. 

The amount of physical pain that thing caused me was impressive. 

I closed my eyes and I ordered myself to stay conscious. She hit me on the forehead with the handle of the gun. —Open your eyes. 

I found no other option, so I opened them. Dionne smiled. Patrick and she were made for each other. 

She slowly brought the gun to my lips and made me open my mouth. She aimed the cold barrel to my palate. My heart just couldn't take it anymore. 

She released my hair and pulled something from her pocket but I couldn't see what it was. —I want you to tell me... what does it feel like... 

I felt a prick in the skin and then something piercing deep through it. She ran the knife along my arm and I let out a shrill, loud cry. I was very aware of my dermis opening under her pulse and the dense and hot blood running down my leg. 

—You feel that? The pain? Do you feel the fear? —I surprisingly heard her through my muffled sounds—. Well... I hope you never forget it.  

I heard a click. I opened my eyes and I suddenly noticed that she had loaded the gun. 

I don't know why, but in some strange way I felt relieved. 

Relieved that everything would end already. Relieved that I was going to leave this filthy, dirty Earth, full of sadistic psychopaths everywhere. Relieved that I didn't  have to keep fighting with myself. 

—Do it. —I whispered, or at least I tried to, because I really couldn't speak very well because the gun was in my mouth and I closed my eyes tightly. 

I felt Dionne moving her hand, twisting  the gun in my mouth, teasing me. 

Just do it. 

And after a tense silence, Dionne passed the knife on my other arm, and when I couldn't scream anymore, she pulled the gun out of my mouth, threw it on the floor and I was shattered once again. 

She took two steps back slowly and looked me in the face with a small smile on her lips. She remained for a few more seconds until she got out of the door and left. 

I made eye contact with Patrick before turning to where she had left the gun on the floor. 

The cartridge was empty. It didn't have a single bullet. It had never been charged.