It was pitch black, his laugh resonates through my home. I hide like my mother told me to, watching the scene go on silently.
I toss and turn in bed, my face in a scowl as I sleep. The nightmare taking over my mind.
My mother falls back when he hits her. She flies easily to the floor.
I start shaking in my sleep, knowing this dream by heart, ands what's to come next.
Then I hear it....
"Ashton wake up, wake up Ashton we have to go school shopping today. It's one o'clock." A small hand brings me out of my nightmare, and I wake up sweaty, breathless, and cold.
Cassandra stands over me, a hand on my forehead.
I still shake from the dream. "Oh my gosh, your really warm. Do you feel okay, Ash?" She asks, feeling my forehead, cheeks and chest with the back of her hand. I nod and rub my eyes, trying to get the sleep out.
"Okay,"She says, "but be out in a little, we have to go to the mall right now, you sleep late." She patted my black hair and slipped out of my room, her small feet padding the carpeted floors.
I lifted my shaky hands and slipped from under the covers, regretting the habit of sleeping shirtless that night. I made my way towards my bathroom.
My, the bathroom, and room, I can call that mine.
A small smile lights up my face, a little pull of one side of my mouth. Then when I see myself in the mirror, the smile disappears. I look at my black bed head and milky pale skin. The hair sticking up in different directions. I have light stubble on my face by not shaving. My nose is a little crooked from the street fights I used to take place in. And lastly, the scar that starts an inch above my right brow, and ends on the bridge of my nose.
I look at the rest of my body, stepping away from the counter I look at the muscles I still have from trying to catch my father.
I flex my bicep, the muscle happily jumps to attention. I look a little further down, there goes the pack that I worked on. And still work on. I still do sit ups and pushups to keep strength. Ever since the accident, I try to build up strength again. Because that feeling I had then, that feeling of defenseless, I don't ever want to feel again. That is one reason why I do fights.
I walk to the shower and turn the knob in the middle but slightly more on the hot so it'll be a nice warm. And find gray and black towels set up in the cabinet by the bathroom. I take a face towel and a dry towel and hop into the shower hoping that'll help me forget my thoughts.
It doesn't help, it only makes it worse. My worst fears and thoughts bombard me all at one time, almost leaving me to break down in the shower. Memories flash through my mind, and I have no time to think about it before another one slides through. It's enough to make me step out of the warm shower, shaking.
I grab the dry towel and dry myself before wrapping it around my hips so I can find clothes. I step out of the steamy bathroom and pad to my dresser. I find a pair of underwear and a plain black long sleeve shirt. Then pull out a pair of black jeans. I walk back to the bathroom to slip them on.
Once I have on the clean clothes I picked, I hastily throw the basketball shorts I slept in into the dirty clothes hamper Cassandra gave me, and made my way downstairs, pulling on my other converse.
When I made it down, Cassandra gave me a piece of toast with jelly slapped on it and an Apple. She already had on some jeans and a pink shirt with white flats, and her brown waves were pulled into a ponytail. Her brown purse in hand.
