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A/N: i didn't like the idea of never have i ever bc lame so i decided to change it to twenty questions bc thats how the deep stuff comes out mwahahaa (i did update this on the other chapter so if you want more of an explanation, check it out :) )
also, this is going to be long (and action packed) but please read until the end and read the author's note :)
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"This is ridiculous," I huff adjusting my position so I'm across from Ashton. His green-hazel eyes are wild with excitement. Meanwhile, my stomach drops and my heart pounds out of my chest. How is Ashton calm? His arm is bleeding, he looks sickly, and we're trapped in a room where one of us is going to die.
No. We're not going to die. Neither one of us is going to die, today. I won't allow for it.
"You okay there, Han?" Ashton speaks up lifting his chin as he does so. I wince at the nickname. It make me uncomfortable, but at the same time, I really enjoy it.
"Don't call me that," I say closing my eyes momentarily before reopening them. I'm greeted with his sad eyes. I instantly feel bad for shutting him down. He's just trying to make light of the situation while I'm being pessimistic as usual. I sigh.
"Sorry," I murmur. "Can we just get this started." I look into his eyes. I notice how beautiful they are. They aren't completely green, but they also aren't just plain brown. They're lined with specks of color. They light up his face, but his pearly white smile has no problem doing that. It's hard to believe two days ago I wanted to rip this kid's face off.
Ashton smiles breaking me from my thoughts. "You start," he says. His voice cracks, and I know it's not because he's nervous. His hand instinctively reaches to his wound and applies pressure. I see the pain in his eyes. I close mine to avoid seeing his discomfort.
My teeth find my bottom lip and gnaw at it for answers. My 141 IQ is wiped to a solid 41 when he talks to me. "Uh," I stutter trying to think of something. It has to be something deep, like Ashton explained, but what is considered deep in a psycho serial killer's mind?
I lick my lip as the taste of metallic crimson liquid flows over my tongue. My tongue slides over the cut I made with my teeth, and I wince as a sharp pain lights up my lip. "What was your home life like?"
I scan Ashton's face for a reaction, an answer, some sort of response. He just sits there with a blank stare across his face. "Well damn," he chuckles shaking his head. "You dove right in there."
"You said deep stuff, Ash," I say not even realizing I called him by a nickname. When I see his face light up, I shake my head. "Ashton," I correct myself. "Just answer the question, please."
Ashton presses his mope-for-hair head against the wall closing his eyes. He shakes his head, and when he reopens his eyes, I see they're becoming more and more wet. I know this subject isn't easy for him, but it isn't easy for me either, and I know he's going to ask the same question back at me.
"My childhood wasn't all that great. My dad left me and my mom when I was two. My mom and I hopped from trailer park to trailer park in hope of finding somewhere to go or someone to take us in. No one ever did, though. I always remember forcing myself not to take food at a friend's house because I felt like I was burdening them. I hated being a burden."
I swallow and nod my head avoiding his eyes, which are struck with hurt. Why did that have to be the question I started with? I internally scold myself.
"Your turn," I say quietly. I'm surprised he even hears me.
"How'd you get to be so smart?" I look up and there's a smirk on his face. There's the Ashton I hate, but right now, I couldn't be more grateful this side of him made an appearance.
I shrug and let out a sigh. "I guess I was born with it? I hated it for the longest time, though. It made me an outcast, someone no one wanted to be friends with. My mom always told me I could go far, but I would always shut her out." My voice trails off, and Ashton takes the hint. He doesn't push, but I have a feeling he's getting some ideas for new questions later on in the game.
Neither of us want to die.
I clear my throat and rub my eyes. I don't even care if the light make up on my face smudges. I look into Ashton's eyes, and his composure calms me down. I'm the professional, and I can't even keep calm. Go figure.
"Would you say joining the band has impacted your life for the better or for the worse?"
Ashton smiles and shrugs. "I could go either way considering right now, because of the band, I'm trapped in a room with you and a gun wound to my arm." He chuckles and shakes his head. "But all in all, I'd have to say the band has changed my life for the better. I probably wouldn't be here if it weren't for the guys."
"What do you mean by that?" I push raising my brow.
Ashton shakes his head. "It's my turn, remember?" I just nod and slouch back. He smiles and leans forward. "How's your sex life, Han?" He snorts emphasizing the nick name.
I furrow my brow. I really want to slap him in the face for asking such a vulgar question, but I know i have no choice but to answer it. My heart races. "Nonexistent. I'm still a virgin."
He smiles and nods at my words and shrugs. "Hey, it happens to the best of us." His cockiness that I hate so much comes back. I'm not sure if he's doing this on purpose or for fun to see how much of a rise he can get out of me in such a horrible situation. Either option I'm not okay with it.
"Shut up," I grumble angrily folding my arms across my chest. "How many girls have you slept with in the last month." He looks hurt at this question, but I can't help it. My anger took over and got the best of me. This never happens, but like I said a little while ago, Ashton is many firsts for me.
"I'm not some kind of man-whore, Hannah," he snaps. "But two." He looks ashamed with himself at the answer, but I decide not to hold him to it. It was kind of a forceful question, but I had to admit, I'm glad I got it out of him. Maybe this was the deep stuff Dana was looking for, after all.
Ashton shifts his position and sighs deeply. "My turn?" I nod. He sighs again. "Uh, how's your home life?" He raises his eyebrows suggestively. I know he's doing this to get back at me, but I also know it was bound to get asked at some point.
I roll my eyes. "I grew up in a simple household with a mother, father, and older brother. My brother plays for the Philadelphia Flyers (a/n aint nobody fresher than my mofo clique) now, which is a hockey team. I don't know how you Australians do."
This warrants a laugh from Ashton, and he gestures for me to go on. I swallow. "My mom worked two jobs to maintain our family mainly because my dad is disabled and can't work. He has Tourette Syndrome, and it's taken over his whole life. We can't really do much, so my mom gets angry often because she has no one to help her."
Ashton bites his lip and nods. "I'm sorry to hear that."
I shake my head. "Don't be. Anyway, it's my turn again. How's your relationship with your mom?"
"Amazing," he responds quickly. "You'd think growing up with just your mom would suck, but we're closer than ever. Sure, she has her moments where she's overbearing, but all moms are like that. We didn't fight much when I was younger mainly because I had to basically raise my siblings, but she's amazing. So strong. Kind of like you, in a weird, twisted sort of way." He smiles, but its genuine. I'll take his statement as a compliment.
"Good, I'm glad."
"Thanks. Anyway, going off that. Do you have a relationship with your mom?"
I shake my head. "N-No. She was very abusive. Not, like, totally physical. More mentally, emotionally, and verbally abusive. She would hit me occasionally if I didn't do pointless things she assigned me to do just to make me do something other than read or study. She didn't even notice my intelligence. It took my older brother to push me to ask for advanced courses and apply to colleges. I haven't talked to her in six years because of it. Once I was out, I wanted to be out forever."
There's some silence between us, and I shift my sitting position while Ashton thinks of something to say. I can see his expressions across his face. I usually don't open up to anyone, let alone anyone I've just met two days ago. However, despite the fact we're being forced to tell each other these things, there's no nervousness in the room. Ashton and I seem comfortable with each other ... almost, too comfortable.
Then again, whatever professional relationship I had with Ashton is thrown out the window.
"Well, I hope you can patch up whatever is ruined. It's not good to hold grudges, you know." Ashton meets my eyes but glances away quickly. His eyes don't meet mine for a while after that.
"Thanks, but things are easier said than done." To that, he grunts in approval, and I continue the game, although, game isn't exactly the word I'd use for this torture. I take a deep breath. My next question is a hard-hitter, and I'm not sure what his response will be. "How'd you get those scars on your wrist?"
Finally, Ashton meets my eyes, but it isn't calm like I had hoped. His eyes are struck with anger. He instinctively reaches for his left wrist, which is already limp from the wound higher up on his arm and glares at me. "What the fuck, Hannah!" He yells. "That's way too personal!"
I shrug and scoot away from him afraid his anger will result in an injury on the closest object within his reach, which, at the moment, is me. "Sorry, Ashton, but you're the one who told me the rules in the first place. Hard. Hitting. Questions."
He groans and shakes his head letting his arm drop. He tugs at his sleeve so I can get a better look at what lines his wrist. There aren't many scars, but there are scars. They're faded, which allows me to let out a huge breath, but the fact someone so happy as Ashton felt so down at once hurts me.
"I did it because I was depressed. I did it because I was bullied, no one wanted me, I felt completely useless. I was forced to grow up and raise my siblings when I wasn't even ready to grow up, myself. I couldn't handle anything, so I took my anger out on myself. It wasn't until I met the guys that my life turned around. They gave me a reason to live, to respect life, to not hurt myself anymore. I've been a year and a half clean, and I don't have those tendencies anymore. Now, I just have to live with my mistakes and get asked those questions only making me regret my decisions more and more."
I hate seeing him like this. I hate myself for asking such personal questions. But, I don't want to die, and I don't want Ashton to die. This is my only option. I bite my lip again and nod slowly. "I'm glad you don't feel this way anymore. No one should have to feel that low, ever. I'm so sorry you felt that way once. I honestly can't imagine it."
He stifles a laugh and shakes his head as he tugs on the sleeve of his long-sleeved ripped shirt. "Yeah, well, no one ever does. I put on a great show, don't I?"
I lick my lips. "It's convincing, yeah."
He smirks. "Good. My turn. How badly do you want to kiss me right now?"
I stare at him blankly. His eyes scan mine for an answer. "What."
"You heard me."
"I don't want to kiss you." It's a lie, and I'm not a good actor.
Ashton smirks. Cocky Ashton. Smart ass Ashton. I hate this Ashton. I love this Ashton.
"I know you do, sweets."
"Stop it!" I squeal shaking my head and burying it in my hands. "And don't call me that, either. Don't call me Han, don't call me sweets. Call me Hannah. My name is Hannah."
Ashton rolls his eyes. "You never answered the question, Hannah."
"I think I did. I said I don't want to kiss you."
"I think you're lying."
"I'm not."
"Oh really?"
"Really. Focus on your bleeding arm."
Ashton looks at the bullet wound and shrugs. "It'll live. Maybe I'll have a stump arm and be the one armed drum maniac!" His voice raises at each word. I can't help but laugh.
"Ashton, that's ridiculous. You won't have a stump arm from a bullet wound." I crawl over to him and lean over his abdomen so I'm close to his wound, which also happens to be close to his neck. I don't know what prompted me to do this. I could've easily gone to his left, but I did this. Now I have to live with it.
I examine the wound and frown. The bleeding has stopped, but not on its own. The color is not red but dark crimson. That's not a good sign. I touch the wound, and Ashton has no reaction. That's ten times worse.
"Ashton!" I exclaim. He glances at me but looks away. "Why didn't you tell me you can't feel your arm?"
He shrugs lifting both shoulders with an effort. "I just noticed it now that you pointed it out, duh."
I moan and force his chin so he's looking at me. My eyes scan his facial features. Everything on his face makes me want to kiss him. I have to control myself. I can't do this. I'm a professional. Ashton makes me weak. No, it's myself. I'm weak. I'm horrible. I feel like I'm about to throw up, or have a panic attack, or both.
Interrupting my thoughts, I feel a pair of soft lips pressed harshly against mine. Before I can react to them being there, they're gone again. My eyes stay open the whole time, but they don't focus on Ashton until he pulls away.
"I know you 'didn't want to,'" he mocks breathing heavily. "But I had to do that before I-"
I cut him off putting my index finger to his lips. "Ashton, shush. You're not going to die. We're going to get you out of this. I'm going to get you out of this. Stay awake, please. Think of your siblings, your mom, something!" I beg for his life.
I see his eyelids begin to close and his neck becomes limp. I hold his cheeks feeling my heartbeat rise. "Ashton," I say slapping his cheeks lightly. His eyes flicker open, but only for a moment. "C'mon, please stay with me. Stay awake. Ashton." More slaps, but I get the same response. Eventually, he gives up the energy and closes his eyes for good.
I cry out his name and pound on his chest, but he doesn't open his eyes. He moans a little at the pain, and I let out a breath of relief he's still somewhat conscious. If he goes into shock, I'm not sure if I'll ever see him again. Even if he gets out of this, which I'm not too sure anymore, he may go into a coma, and he might not even wake up.
I rise from my position slowly and walk over to the laptop on the bed. "Dana, I know your listening," I say slowly into the microphone of the computer. I feel awkward talking into this machine I know only goes one way. If she says anything, I won't be able to hear it back. It's not wired that way.
"Ashton is almost dead," I choke out. "He needs serious medical help. Please, don't let him die. He doesn't deserve this. I know how much you care about him. I'm willing to take his place. Hurt me, not him. Hurt me, not the rest of his friends or my team. Please. No one deserves this. This needs to end."
I don't hear anything for a while, but I say nothing more. If this works, Dana should come up and unlock the door. I know she cares about Ashton to an unhealthy level and letting him die isn't in the profile. However, I know I'm meaningless to her. I may be setting myself up for death, but I know how to get out of it. I didn't have special training in persuasive talking for nothing.
Suddenly, I hear the sound of keys jingling outside the door. I sit on the floor next to Ashton but not too close so Dana doesn't get any ideas. I know she's extremely possessive, and the kiss we shared was too light for any microphone to pick up. If she found out, however, then I would be in huge trouble.
The door creaks open, and I see Dana standing before me. A gun is in her hand, but it's not mine, so I know it's the weapon she brought and the weapon she knocked me out once with before.
"If you cooperate and come downstairs silently, I will send Ashton outside to get help. Make any noise, and I'll blow your little doctor friend's head off," she threatens.
I nod slowly and stand back up walking towards her with my hands up. "I promise. I'll be silent. Just get him help."
She nods and takes my arm leading me downstairs. I'm put in the room where the rest of the boys are being held. A weight is lifted from my shoulders when I see none of them are injured. Reid greets me with a hug, and I see from the corner of my eyes Dana helping a semi-conscious Ashton down the stairs and out of the house.
She places him on the front step and slams the door shut behind her. I hear heavy boots running to the door and voices yelling. Now we're stuck here. I don't know what she wants from me now, but I know it isn't good.
"Am I in hell yet," I call out a bit too angry for my liking, but nothing I can do about it now.
Dana smirks. At least my tone didn't set her off. "Yes, Hannah, you're very much in hell. I can't wait for you to see what I have up my sleeve."
I grit my teeth. "Bring it on."
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tbh i have no idea what dana has in store so this should be interesting.
LONG WEEKEND AND IM DONE FINALS IM FREEEEEEE
anyway i told you all to read this not to update you on my personal life but hey if you ever need someone to talk to about ANYTHING im here for you :) :)
okay so if you haven't read yet, i posted a character ask thing. i realllllyyyy wanna do it and outerwebs and nebulairwin have already posted some awesome questions i cant wait to answer (and theyre also super amazing so check them out k bye)
but pretty please ask some questions? i think character asks are super fun and i enjoy reading them so i want you guys to enjoy it too!
but thank you for almost 500 reads and almost 100 votes! IM SO HAPPY AND GRATEFUL OMG I LOVE YOU ALL!!!
- lauren xx :)