Rules of Survival | afi

3

Ashton Irwin was working the late shift, breaking up yet another party thrown by drunk teenagers at midnight. His fellow police officers had gotten the two hosts in the back of the cop car, but they were both too far gone to answer any serious questions.

"Well, Irwin, I'd call that a night." His chief, Officer Calum Hood, had told him. The rest of the kids had scattered and the grounds were empty, save for the smell of beer and weed heavy in the air. "Go home and get some sleep. Your wife is probably waiting for you."

Ashton was exhausted. He'd woken up that morning with a pounding headache, but with a family of three kids to take care of (especially in the middle of summer), calling in sick to work wasn't an option. He had kissed Angie goodbye, shoved some aspirin down his throat with some hot tea, and headed out the door. That was nearly sixteen hours ago.

"Don't have to tell me twice." He had laughed, heading towards his squad car. "Go easy on those kids, Calum. They were just being stupid."

"Yeah well, a few hours in a jail cell will teach them just that." Calum replied, slapping Ashton on the shoulder. "Drive safe."

Ashton pulled out his phone on the way to his squad car, checking his texts for the fifth time in the last two hours. His wife still hadn't replied. He had told her he'd be late again, expecting a fairly quick emoji response, but she probably just fell asleep. It's happened before.

On the drive back to his house, Ashton couldn't help but get this gut feeling that something was wrong. His hands were sweaty on the steering wheel, his throat drier than normal. His driveway couldn't have approached any faster than it did.

He pulled into the garage, climbing out of his car and locking it. As he went to enter his house, he stopped himself.

The door was unlocked.

That was highly unusual. Angie always kept it locked, Fresno wasn't exactly a family safe city. The gut feeling got worse.

Ashton looked around his garage. His wife's car was there. After a quick swipe of his flashlight, he found it empty of intruders.

Maybe he was just being paranoid. Nevertheless, he kept a hand on his gun as he entered his home.

The kitchen was quiet. Dead quiet. The first thing Ashton noticed was that the burner he used for tea that morning was still on, flickering in the night light. He turned it off. The second thing he noticed was the body of his wife, sprawled out on the kitchen floor.

Ashton's breath caught in a gasp. It was like his feet were glued to the ground. His first thought, oddly, was why would she sleep there? Because the position and situation were so odd that it didn't seem to make sense in his brain. Then he registered her blue lips, the sunken face, and her unmoving chest, and by instinct he fell hard onto the ground beside her.

"Angie." He had said, shaking her. "Angie, wake up. Angie."

Nothing.

"Angie, come on n-now." Ashton stuttered, pulling her up in his arms, grabbing her face. "Angie, wake up."

He couldn't accept what was going on. He just couldn't. He knew she wasn't breathing. He knew she was gone, had been for a while. But it all just seemed so unreal, so impossible. 

"Angie this isn't funny."

She didn't respond. Ashton pressed his ear to her chest, but heard nothing but silence.

He starts to shake. "Angie!" He yelled desperately, putting her down in favor of starting CPR. He pressed down on her chest, blowing in her mouth over and over again, but with every failed attempt the hope slipped out of his mind and was replaced with utter hysteria.

Ashton fell back, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He had no idea what was going on. No idea what had happened. He couldn't breath. The shock and terror of the whole situation was eating at him from the inside, and he was frozen in place.

She can't be dead. She can't be. She was fine this morning. The kids-

Oh god.

The kids.

Ashton forced his body to move, everything going into overdrive as he scrambled to his feet and flew through the house, throwing open the door to his oldest sons room. Thomas's body was laid peacefully under the covers.

Unmoving. Unbreathing.

Ashton has ripped the covers off, shaken him vigorously, sobbed out his name, but nothing happened. His lips were blue has well, his face colorless and sunken. Ashton had ran into his other children's shared bedroom, where his two little girls normally slept, only to find them in the same condition.

Lucy May, only five years old. Dead.

Sadie Rose, not even three. Gone.

He couldn't take it. He fell to his knees in the middle of his house, hands in his hair, biting down on his teeth so hard he started to bleed as the tears ran down his face. He screamed at the top of his lungs for help, for anybody to take him away from the sudden terrible nightmare he had found himself in.

In his haste to get out that morning, he forgot to turn off the old fashioned stove burner he had used to make his tea.

Unbeknownst to him, the oil in the burner failed to burn all the way, leaking copious amounts of carbon monoxide into the air. Within an hour, it had spread through the house and into the bodies of his family.

His wife had died heading to the kitchen for her morning coffee. His children in their beds.

Ashton had killed his entire family.

He had lost everything.

•••

next update will be on normal schedule (saturday) this one was just a lil late because my schedule was wack this week!

also my bby luke is 22 today nobody touch me let me cry in peace

anywho love you all, thanks for reading and stay rad

xoxo

-Cam