Chapter 29:
4 YEARS LATER:
"Ashley?" There it was. That voice so cold yet clear with no lack of emotion. I hated that voice. I had to keep up with that same voice for 4 years.
I wipe my hands on my apron and set the plate in front of me in the same order, I had done for years. The steak & onion pie set correctly opposite the fries and the vegetables set align so it looked like a pretty portrait.
"ASHLEY?!" My hands tremble and I pace myself trying to keep up. Rushing, I try to grab the gravy mug and my trembling hands knocks it on the ground.
"Shit." I mutter under my breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I get on my knees, grabbing a rag from the counter, and scrub at the gravy, making sure to clean every last drop of it. I wipe up the broken mug and throw it into the bin.
Come on Ash. Come on.
I get up quickly and pour a new portion of gravy into a new mug. "ASHLEY? COME HERE...NOW!" He was getting angry and when he was angry something always went bad.
My eyes scan and I look over the things I made. Did I remember everything? I'm sure I forgot something. Doesn't matter, there was no time. I grab the plate of food, that I perfectly assemble every night, and the new mug of gravy and rush out of the kitchen.
The TV was on, I could hear the sports channel. The loud buzz of it. Chris loved sports, he made me watch it and I had to cope with it for years. But me? I sucked at sports and hated it since I was 6 years of age.
Every smile and laugh I gave Chris when he cracked a joke about a famous player or sports coach was fake. I didn't understand a thing.
But I had to smile. I had to laugh. Otherwise he'd do something much worse, so for years, I kept up with him. I laughed and giggled and played along. But of course he would still do it.
"Ashley?" Again, that voice. I shake my head and walk into the living room, where Chris was sitting on a brown armchair. He had a cigarette in his hand and a empty bottle of beer.
Shit! That was what I forgot! His beer.
Okay calm down, ash. Stay away from the subject of drinks and get it after. I'm sure he won't notice.
"Hey." I cheerfully say, putting on my best forced smile.
"Give me my dinner then!" Chris snapped. I rush towards him, stumbling a little on a empty beer bottle on the ground. I put his plate of food on the food table in front of him and set the mug of gravy beside it.
Chris looks at the food set in front of him and slowly looks up at me. I flinch readying myself for what to come.
"Where's my beer?" He growls. I look down and shake my head. Stupid Ashley. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
He gets up, knocking the armchair on the floor and the food. Spraying the walls with gravy and the floor with vegetables and pieces of pastry. His nose was flaring and his eyes were blazing with so much anger.
"I SAID WHERE IS MY BEER?!" He repeats, his voice low.
"I f-forgot.." I stutter. His hands raise and he slaps my right cheek, I fall to the ground cupping my reddening cheek.
"You ungrateful bitch! I give you my home when you most need it. I gave you a better life and you can't even remember to bring me my beer!" He yells and stomps on my hand with his boots.
I move my hand, the pain spreading across my body. "You whore." He mutters before leaving the living room. Each step he took, made the floor tremble.
I hear the front door slam and I sigh. Hell was what this was.
I bring my knees to my chest and keep holding my cheek. Keeping my stomped hand on the floor. Abused and raped.
Everyday, Chris would get angry. Every little flaw I done would make him angry. Right now, he would be in the pub next door, Benly's. Drinking and watching more sports with his drunken friends.
I hate him. Why did I trust him? Why did I ever come with him? When I first arrived here, he was gentle with me, he was patient and waited till I kept up. All I had to do was act like his caring girlfriend. Clean his house, make his dinner, turn the TV on when he came in from work (which was drug-dealing) and lastly have sex with him. Every night.
When I was 16, I obligated, which made him angry with me and his first abuse started towards me which was throwing me of the bed and kicking my stomach.
I'm 20 now and still am kicked, slapped, punched, abused, forced to have sex.
Which was completely the opposite to the person I used to love. Still do love. someone I used to trust.
Even after, what he done. I still love him.
I miss you, Caden.
~~
CADENS POV:
"Heya babe." Kirsten comes towards me, purposely swaying her hips. I narrow my eyes on her while she slowly comes towards me. She probably thought she was being seductive. Heck no! She was just another girl, another someone who's trying to steal my heart, a way someone already did.
She stole my heart and ran away with it. Making me feel like dirt, alone and saddened.
"Look Kirsten, I don't like you...just please.." I say. I look around the half-empty common room of my college. It's been 4 years, 4 years since she left. No message, no nothing. Of course I tried looking for her. I called the police.
I tried my hardest and I came back empty-handed. I didn't find her and Clarissa came back, crying and demanding where she was. My mum was sad. We all were.
I missed her. Where was she? For 2 years, I looked everywhere. I had my suspicions Chris took her. But how could he? She wouldn't trust him...would she?
Kirsten sat on my lap, straddling me. "Caden, baby." She purred and stroked my stomach, starting to unbutton my buttons.
I flinched away from her and looked at the window of the common room. I went to Lake College, near my mums house. Sam and Clarissa now live together. Clarissa is still upset about her. I can't even bring myself to say her name. But what can she do? She's gone.
"Caaaaden!" Kirsten whines into my ear. I push Kirsten off me and stalk to my room. What was with whiny college girls wanting me anyway? I've completely over the days since I was a player.
"Hey man!" My roommate, Jonathon, said, he was sitting by the computer e-mailing his other girlfriend. He gave me a nod and I gave him one back. Jonathon was what I used to be before I met her. He's a player. With typical dirty blonde hair and blue eyes, girls were scrounging after him. Especially college girls.
I lie on my single bed and put my hands behind my head, staring at the white ceiling. Does she miss me? Does she still love me?
Where is she?