I feel like shit.
There's no getting around it. My head is pounding, my nose is stuffy and my throat is scratchy. Trudging downstairs, I try to appear normal, "Morning, mom."
God, even my voice sounds horrible.
"Sit." She orders and I practically collapse into the nearest chair. A thermometer is shoved in my mouth before I can even protest. "102.1 fever, go back to bed."
That's impossible, "I'm fi-" A firm hand grips my chin and its partner pours green liquid down my mouth. Gagging at the taste, I jump away from my mom. "What the hell was that?"
"Medicine, now you have 5 minutes before you're out cold so march upstairs." She shrugs, looking for her keys.
"But what about-"
"Scarlett will be no good if you get her or any of her siblings sick, so no more if, ands or buts." She orders, guiding me towards the door.
I want to argue but my eyes begin to feel heavy. Mom guides me up and tucks me in, a part of me feels childish but I would've curled into a ball on the landing if I had the choice. Yawning, I reach for my phone.
I need to call...
*****
What is that god-awful noise?
Blinking the sleep out of my eyes, I try to remember what day it is. Checking my phone, I notice two things. Scarletts called me 10 times and it's almost one in the afternoon.
What the hell did mom give me?
Blindly reaching for my bottle of water, my phone rings again. Answering it, I try to sound upbeat. "Sweetheart, I'm alive. Sick but alive."
"Funny, I preferred it when you called me a piece of shit lowlife." A gruff voice offers.
The phone falls onto the bed. No. No. No. No. No. No. There's no way. I'm hallucinating, that medicine fucked me up. Pinching my arm like Scarletts done a thousand times, I wince in pain, but nothing changes.
A shaky hand brings the phone back to my ear. "Trust me, I've got a few more colorful names for you now."
He chuckles, "Still as hotheaded as ever."
Gritting my teeth, I try to keep my cool. "What do you want, Eric?"
"I just wanted to talk to my son."
"I'm not your son." Never was, never will be.
He tsks, "Back on that train of thought, are we?"
"It's not a thought, it's a fact." I snap back.
"I hope you've been getting my letters. I keep waiting for a response, but you know how shitty the mail system is to us inmates." He carries on like I'm one of them.
"No, I really wouldn't know."
"That's right, you got out of your punishment. Something about starting over to become better. How's that going for you?"
I stay silent, I'm not surprised that he knows that. If anything, I'm shocked he cared enough about to me find out what happened.
"Pretty well if what I've been told is true. You're at some fancy charter school for academics. You're actually attending classes and getting good grades, something I laughed at when I heard. You hated school." He starts and I remain silent.
I only hated school because he told me to. He's the one who thought grades and homework was a waste of time.
"The shock that almost killed me was the news that you're playing football again and apparently you're not half bad. Mister big shot, swooped in and won a championship. Got a scholarship to Tennessee... no, Alabama. My sincere mistake."
He tries to bait me with the mix up, but I remain quiet as a mouse, I won't feed into his behavior.
"Going to a good school, in a new state away from the city, getting good grades and playing a good sport. Jesus, Liz must be one happy bitch" he states.
I bite down on my tongue to keep my comment held back. I won't give in.
"She always wanted what she thought was best for you but the sad part is her hopes are nothing more than a facade. One day you'll wake up and no longer feel the need to work hard. Your grades will fall and your attendance will drop. Football will be put on the back burner because you don't do well with team sports and you never will. One day it will all become too much and when it does, I'll be waiting."
No, that will never happen. I like going to school, I have a reason to be there. I have I reason to study and a reason to try. I'm still not the biggest fan of team sports at time but I have a reason to do good. I have a purpose and a future that I want. I have goals, he has nothing.
I don't know why I haven't hung up yet. Maybe it's because a small part of me acknowledges that at one point I wanted nothing more than to know this man and that even though I hate him, this might be the last time I ever speak to him.
Maybe I'm hoping to leave things on a good term, like I did with Ethan Reynolds.
"Your sister is still the same I assume. Mark is still trying to be super dad and failing miserably."
I say nothing, once he finishes his little rant, I can speak my piece and hang up.
"You don't want to talk, that's fine. I have one more topic to touch on." He clears his throat. "We don't get to see much of what's going on outside these walls, but we do get to watch tv every once and a while. ESPN was on the other day and they were talking about this high school football player, committed to Alabama, who went viral for a tweet he posted of him and his girlfriend."
Oh, no.
"He had some cheesy quote to go along with it. How did it go... why carry the weight of a team when I already hold my whole world in my arms. I don't know, something like that." He states, "What's important is the kid looked so familiar and that's when I hit me. That was my son on tv."
I'm going to be sick.
"It was a shock to not only see my child after going so long with a visit. To learn about Alabama was humorous, I'd been told things but no confirmation. The relationship though, that almost gave me a heart attack. My boy doesn't date, he gets around but a girlfriend? Never."
My boy, the words alone are enough to gross me out.
I've never been so annoyed with myself. So much time and effort went into making sure my Instagram and snapchat were safe just for me to hop on twitter and fuck everything up.
"The girl though, she's a real prize. What's her name? Claire? Emily? Maira? No... Scarlett? Yes, that's the one. Tell me, son, how is Scarlett?"
"Keep her name out of your mouth." I snap, to quickly to get a hold of myself.
My seven word response is enough to get him fired up.
"I got curious, had a friend who actually cared enough to visit me do some recon. You've landed yourself quite the interesting girl. I mean, I understand why you're attracted to her." He drawls.
"I don't know what you're talking about." I reply evenly. what does he know?
"Besides the fact she's a total knock out? You're playing house, son. I suppose that's your mother's fault for never giving you a proper childhood, so now you feel the need to prematurely create a happy family home. You found someone to give you constant love and affection."
Yes, because Scarlett is the affectionate one in our relationship. I can't even begin to wrap my head around how fucked up his logic is before he begins to spew more shit out of his mouth.
"I give it maybe six more months." He states.
"Six more months of what?" I demand, losing my restrain on my control by the second.
"Six more months of this pathetic excuse of a relationship. You'll grow bored of being with one person in every way possible. The routine will become too monotonous, the relationship will become a coffin holding you back from all of the wonders life has to offer you. And then, if you make it to college, it will be pointless. You'll be young and restless, held back by a deadend relationship. Perhaps you'll have the decency to put the poor girl out of her misery but that's unlikely. Which means you'll cheat. You're a man who enjoys a thrill, you'll become as addicted to cheating as you were too fighting. Perhaps you'll keep the girl as a front, to keep the wholesome, all-American facade up but we both know in the end she'll end up being as worthless as-"
"Shut the fuck up!" I shout, "You know nothing about me or my life. I'm doing great, I have no desire to fall off the wagon or whatever pathetic destiny you have for me. I have a real life here, with a real family and a real future and you're not in it. I never even touched your letters, I have mom and dad throw them away because I don't even want to see them or read the lies you've written. I hate you, Eric, I've hated you for a long time and I never want to talk to you again."
My chest heaves up in down, the sound of my own breathing filling my ears. "It wounds me, son, that you think so lowly of me."
"I think nothing of you! Stop writing me. Stop calling me. Stop acknowledging the fact I exist. You did that for 15 years so now shouldn't be any different! Most importantly, leaving my fucking family and girlfriend alone. You've already tarnished my home life, but I won't let you ruin anything else."
Never again, will I fall for the trap of his favor. I'm not letting him ruin me any more than he has.
There's a long pause and I'm beginning to think his calls ended when a deep sigh fills my ear. "Ashton, I know you. I don't have to talk to your family or even see your girlfriend in person to know how they're going to end. You'll find a way to destroy them all on your own. Do you want to know why?"
I remain silent, the phone rattling against my ear.
"Because you're just like me."
"No."
"Face the facts, kid, the apple never falls far from the tree and you're 100 percent me. I know you're future because you're me. You aren't worthy of having a good relationship or a career, you're a nomad. You take who and what you want, when you want it. Embrace it kid, it'll take you places." I can picture his greasy, slimly face sneering up at me. The satisfaction evident in his matching gray eyes.
"Go to hell." I grit out as a knock sounds down the line.
"I'll see you soon enough, try to keep the self-destruction to a minimum till then. I love a good show." He says just as the line goes dead.
Redialing the number, I try to get a solid amount of air inside my lungs to no avail.
The phone doesn't even ring, a dial up tone filling my ears. "I'm sorry, but the number you've dialed is no longer in service. Please hang up and–"
Screaming, I throw my phone as my fist connects with the wall.
No. No. No. No. No.
This isn't real.
Jesus Christ, I hate that man. Getting out of bed, I collapse against the wall. The room shrinks with each rugged breath I take in. Getting smaller and smaller with the fewer gasps of air I'm able to consume.
I can't breathe.
I need to get out of here. I try to find the door but everywhere I look it's missing.
Space. I need space.
But everything is so small.
Shoving the bed out of the way I collapse onto the floor as the sound of glass shattering faintly fills my ears. or maybe that's just my skull cracking under the beat of my heart in my head.
At this point I can't even feel my body underneath the crushing pressure of my burning lungs.
*****
It feels like an eternity has passed.
Everything hurts.
My limbs feel heavy. My chest feels empty. I'm hallow of any and all emotions.
I lack the words to understand what happened. He just... called me. From a number he shouldn't have. And I just let him talk. I stayed quiet and let him trash talk everything I care about.
My life. My mom. My future. Scarlett.
I said nothing.
Maybe he's right, we're the same. I knew I should've ignored him but I didn't. I knew I should have hung up, but I didn't. I knew how toxic and dangerous and manipulative he can be but that didn't stop me.
Maybe deep down I know it too and that's why I couldn't ignore him.
I needed to get a reality call from my future, that's what the universe has destined me to become. A worthless lowlife.
Glancing down at my hand, it's all the confirmation I need. How many times did I watch my dad get upset and hit a wall or someone else? My first reaction is to follow the same outlet. Hitting things because a face isn't close enough.
It doesn't sting as much as I thought it would, but I stopped feeling things halfway through our conversation.
He's right.
The door opens and I honestly think I'm hallucinating when Scarlett appears in my line of sight. I can't talk to her. Maybe I should just breakup with her now to spare her the pain of the future.
That would prove I have some decency.
"Are you okay?' She asks tentatively, taking a spot on the floor beside me.
Am I okay? I don't really know how to define okay right now.
A hand rubs my arms and eventually I shake my head.
"Is there anything I can do for you?" She follows up.
Yes, leave me alone to wallow in my disgust. Stop trying to make me feel okay. My head nods without my consent and the next thing I know I'm pulling her into my lap.
Despite the fact I'm holding her, I feel lighter. This is right. I guess, subconsciously this was what I needed.
She hums in my ear and rubs circles into my skin, soothing me far more than I anticipated.
"Ash, you need to tell me what happened." She says, keeping that same calm tone.
As much as I'd like to bury that conversation in the depths of my mind, I know it's time to come clean. She's too good to me for me to continue on hiding this.
After sharing the horror story that was my day, I end on the one action that's still haunting me.
"It wasn't until I punched the wall that I stopped, finally realizing that's exactly what he would've done." I admit, focusing on my hand.
A hand grasps my face, forcing me to look at her. "Ashton McClain, you are a lot of things but you are nothing like that pathetic excuse of a human being."
Oh, please, she's never even met him. She couldn't possibly understand.
"You are kind. And smart. And loving. You have a heart bigger than anyone else I've ever met, and you are so gentle."
Gentle, that's a joke. I destroy things without a second thought.
"So what, you punched a wall. I punch things all the time when I'm upset. What makes you different is that you know it's wrong. The fact you care and continuously try to be better makes a world of difference. You are more of a man than he'll ever be, do I make myself clear?" She questions, golden brown eyes peering into my soul.
Nodding, partly because I don't want to risk her rath, I begin to see things from her perspective. I'm scared shitless about being anything like him, that has to count for something.
She kisses my cheek, "I'm not going anywhere. Not today. Not tomorrow. And certainly not next year. I plan on sticking around for a while, so you better be prepared for that."
And I was the idiot ready to dump her to prevent a hypothetical situation from happening.
"I love you." She reminds me, "I love you a lot more than you could ever imagine so please don't worry about anything else."
It feels like I'm in an alternate universe hearing those words come from her mouth, but she's right. "I love you more."
A whole lot more than she could ever love me.
"Good, now go get in the shower." She orders, dragging me to my feet.
*****
After washing off all the panic, I walk out to find my once destroyed room all cleaned up.
"You didn't have to clean up. It was my mess, I could've handled it." I say, tossing my wet towel in the hamper.
Standing up, she waves me off, "It was the least I could do."
No, just helping me was more than enough. Shaking my head, I walk towards her, stopping when I notice red dripping from the hand she's cradling. "Sweetheart, what's wrong with your hand?"
"Nothing." She lies as I grab her hand. Shards of glass decorate her palm, blood trickling down her arm.
Jesus Christ, Scarlett.
"Don't move." Grabbing my towel, I wrap her hand and lead her to my bed. Turning on my heel I head for the laundry room, "So stubborn."
Did she really think she could hide that? Grabbing a first aid kit, I return to the room and sit across from her, tweezers in hand.
As I begin to yank the pieces from her skin, I'm reminded of when our roles were reversed at the twins' party. "This is kinda like deja vu."
She remains silent but I know she remembers.
"Do you know what I was thinking in that moment?" I continue, partly hoping to distract her and also hoping to get somethings off my chest while she can't run away.
Her head shakes.
"I was thinking about how much I liked you and was completely lost on how to act with you. I had never liked someone the way I liked you, by that point I knew my feelings were real." Like, scary real.
Giving her the option to say something, I pull another shard of glass out, but she stays silent.
"I was so confused." Understatement of the century. "I had tried to flirt with you every way possible and you didn't take the bait. I didn't give up though, you were the most amazing person in the world even if you weren't interested."
She probably could've told me to go die in a ditch and I would've loved it.
"That party though, it gave me hope. I remember leaning down to you, watching the emotions flash across your face. I almost pulled back, afraid to cross a line, but then you leaned in. Granted, Sage interrupted us, but I came to a conclusion that night."
Searching through the bag, I grab a band-aid and look up to find her smiling. "I decided you were worth the wait." Wrapping her hand, I lean in, brushing my nose against hers. "God, I'm so happy I did that."
Tying the wrap, I'm about to clean up when she clears her throat. "That night was important for me too."
Well, here's a change in events I didn't see coming.
"I've known since the night we studied at my house that you liked me, but I never fully knew how much. I was confused, I didn't want to like you, but I found myself falling for you more and more. It scared me, there was still so much you didn't know, and I was trying to figure everything out." She begins.
I remember that night, it feels like a whole lifetime ago. Setting her hand down, I smile at this new information.
"But that night, after our almost kiss, I realized I liked you too. Even if I wasn't ready to consciously act or acknowledge it yet."
I had no idea. In my mind she didn't start fully sharing my feelings until February. Kissing her, I try to ensure there is as little space as possible between us without crushing her hand.
"I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you." She offers guiltily as we pull apart.
"Don't blame yourself, it was my choice to keep it in. I didn't want to worry you with anything else." Looking back, it makes me a big idiot, but it was for the best.
"Don't ever do that again, I don't care if I'm three seconds away from losing it. If you have something to tell me, if anything is bothering you, talk to me. We had a deal, if you go through hell then I go through hell. What's the point of being your girlfriend if we don't stick by that?" She argues, staring at me with a determined gleam in her eyes.
I'm at a loss for words. When I said that to her I never meant she had to reciprocate that thought process. She's the one who struggles so much and needs a hand to help her, I didn't expect her to help me.
But I guess I need it just as badly as she does.
Wrapping my arms around her, I hold her tight. "Thank you."
"Of course." She whispers and I don't think she could ever understand how deeply I mean those words.
Cupping her face, I stare directly into her eyes. "I love you so much."
Kissing her slowly, I forget about the mess of a day I've had.
"I love you." She speaks onto my lips and I don't want to move.
This is all that matters, my beautiful, beautiful light.
"Why do you call me that?" she wonders, and it takes me minute to realize I said that out-loud. "You don't have to explain."
"No, I want to." I assure her, now is a good time to explain everything. "I was at my rock bottom when we moved here. I was surrounded by the darkness of my own mind, desperate for an escape."
It's crazy to remember who I used to be.
"The parents' of the kid I hurt didn't press charged because they insisted I was simply a lost soul who needed to find the light. I thought they were crazy but then I met you." She blinks back surprise at this. "You annoyed me at first but even from the first moment, without my knowing, you were changing me."
Every second that went by, a sliver of my old self vanished and even while I tried to fight it, I'd do it all over again.
"You make me believe there's more to life than being an ass. You've taught me so much and I plan on following you for as long as you'll let me." I state, brushing away a tear from her cheek. "I'm sorry if that was a bit too forward."
Maybe I should've toned it down a bit... or a shit ton.
Scarlett tackles me in a hug, "You're my everything."
Laughing as we take in what a mess we are, I'm reminded of something she said earlier. "There are tons of reasons why you should be my girlfriend."
"Oh, yeah, and what are they, Mister McClain?"
Smirking smugly, I lean down, "It's better if I show you."
A knock at the door has us jumping apart as mom peaks her head in, the smile she was wear dissolves as she takes in the hole in the wall. "What happened?"
Oh, I'm so dead.
*****
Following mom and dad to their bedroom, I try to figure out the best way to word my situation. In the end, I just share everything. I don't hide anything that my father said. I don't lie about what that conversation did to me.
It destroyed me.
"I'm calling our lawyer first thing tomorrow. I want a restraining order filed against that bastard." Mom seethes, pacing the length of the room.
Part of me agrees but I also know he'll find a way around it, he always does.
She stops pacing, taking a seat next to me on their bed. "Ashton, how are you feeling?"
Sighing, I fidget with my hands. "Tired, drained, scared, but at the same time I know that as long as I listen to myself, I won't end up like him. In the end, that's all that matters." She nods, biting the inside of her cheek. Obviously, she has something she wants to say. "Mom, what is it?"
"Well, have you thought about taking more time to focus on yourself?" She asks and dad rests his head in his hands.
"What do you mean?"
She hesitates again, "Please don't get mad, because I mean this the nicest way possible, but, Ashton, you need to put some energy into yourself."
"I'm still not following."
"Make sure all of your energy isn't going into Scarlett, that's all I'm trying to say." She hurries out and I just stare at her.
"Mom, our relationship is 50/50. I help her and she helps me. I would not be this okay if she hadn't found me and do you want to know why?" Mom nods stiffly, "It's because I believed that man, I was ready to just stop to prevent everyone else from getting hurt later on. She physically wouldn't stop until I listened to her. I really don't see how that's one sided?"
She flinches, "All I'm saying is that you got into a fight and it was ok. Then all of last week she was MIA and you shut down. It was horrible to watch you suffer for a person who wasn't acknowledging you."
"That was my choice, it wasn't her fault." I snap back.
"I'm not saying it was and I'm not saying you have to break up with her. I just think you need to allow for more personal time." She assures me.
Snorting, I shake my head. "What's funny is that in a lot of ways, you and Scarlett are so similar and yet, I still can't understand why you are always against her."
"What do you mean?" She demands.
So I share everything about Bennett, well, almost everything. I think it's better to leave the whole Angels thing out of the story because that won't earn any brownie points. I explain both fights, why I choose to be more open to helping her and why Scarlett is the way she is.
By the end, mom's as pale as a ghost. Slowly, she stands up and heads for the door. "Excuse me, I have some apologizing to do."
Dad opens the door for her, and we follow suit. Somehow, I end up being the first to enter the kitchen, finding Scarlett attempting to scrub a pot with one hand. The other wrapped in a plastic bag to keep it dry.
"What in the world are you doing?"
Smiling sheepishly, she faces me. "Dishes."
Mom and dad come in and they seem just as confused as I am.
"The girls were getting hungry, so I made dinner." She explains, motioning to the oven.
She cooked dinner.
"I'm sorry to use your kitchen but Ronnie was about to get you and I didn't want to interrupt. I'm almost done cleaning up." She rambles on, uncomfortable with all the staring.
Mom shoves past me, wrapping Scarlett in a tight hug. "Thank you."
Scar hugs her back, sending me a confused look as dad and I grab our plates.
Leaving them alone in the kitchen, we sit down in the dining room in silence. Dad cuts into his pork chop and takes a bite, humming in surprise. "At least one of you can cook."
"Hey, I want to learn." I joke, tossing a green bean at him.
Straining my ears, I try to eavesdrop on the convo but they're too quiet. "Do you think mom's going to finally be okay with Scarlett?"
Dad sighs, "Ashton, your mom loves Scarlett. She just loves you more. However, I think she'll finally stop pushing distance on you. I think you're better together."
Grinning, I relax in my seat. I must agree, I think we are too.
*****
Don't come after Liz. She's a parent and while it's anoying that she doesn't just love Scarlett without a second thought, I like it. Ashton's mental and physical health comes first and in her mind up until now she saw Scarlett as someone who at times interfered with that.
It's interesting to see how that mindset reverses in LiL....
This chapter was surprisingly long as a make up for being mia. And while I don't like some sections it's as good as it's gonna get rn.
Love y'all.