Page 62

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ashton

A blinding white light bleeds through my closed eyelids, unsettling this tranquility I’ve found myself in.

The fear of it vanishing the moment I wake keeps me from doing so.

On the other hand, the possibility of opening my eyes to only find peace also terrifies me.

The idea of death sneaks inside, intruding on this plane between being awake and in a dreamlike state.

It isn’t until I hear the soft, tearful voice of my mother do I start dragging myself out of the clouds and back down to reality.

As I do so, I begin to realize why I was clinging on so hard to that blissful abyss.

Pain rains down on me like hail before a tornado, the ache sharp and biting in places I can’t quite decipher yet.

Every inch of me hurts; my head, my muscles, my skin. .. my heart.

I haven’t even let my memories catch up with me, desperate to delay the inevitable.

“Oh my God, Dave! She’s awake!” I find my mom shaking my father, who’s fallen asleep .

His eyes spring open, immediately glossy from unshed tears.

“Honey?” My mom coos. After a minute of watching me just blink the grogginess away, she cries, “Dave, she’s not responding!”

“Calm down, let’s call the doctor in.”

I’m alive.

My parents are here.

Here as in... a hospital? It does take me a second to collect my bearings, my eyes scanning my surroundings.

I’m safe.

In a hospital bed with an IV secured in the crook of my arm, not handcuffed to a broken, musty mattress.

I’m warm.

A blanket is tightly tucked around my body, the white dress gone.

My father rounds the bed, walking over to console my mother who has now officially lost it. I’m not intentionally trying to torment them, but I’ve found myself shattered, broken, and beaten. Words just aren’t flowing as easily as they used to.

A male doctor comes waltzing in with a friendly smile and a happy-go-lucky attitude as if greeting me with positive energy was going to help cure me of the trauma I’ve just experienced.

“Hi there,” he holds his hand out, but as I lift mine, I see a train wreck of scratches and bruises, flashbacks forcing my retreat. “I’m Dr. Shufford. On a scale of one to ten, can you tell me your pain level?”

Instinctively, I reach to the back of my head, grazing the pounding ache. A scalding fire flares painfully in my scalp, fingers digging in deep, yanking and dragging my body along the frostbitten ground.

But I’m no longer outside. No one is tearing me away, denying my desperate desire to save Oliver. Though I wince, it’s not from the pain, but from the devastation of leaving him behind once again.

The doctor rolls the stool over next to the bed, plopping himself down.

“Does she have amnesia? Brain damage? Why isn’t she talking?” My mom rambles.

“It’s common to be a little tongue tied after surviving something traumatic. Let’s just give her a second.”

He pulls out his otoscope, blinding my eyes with its light while pulling at my lids.

“Follow my finger the best you can,” he directs, moving his pointer right from left in front of my face.

Of course, I follow. I’m not brain dead like my mom fears. I just need to collect my thoughts.

“No obvious signs of a concussion, she seems to be physically aware of her surroundings, but we’d like to keep her overnight for observation.” Turning to me he asks, “Can you tell me your full name.”

Taking a deep breath, I force my name out of my mouth, the words scraping against the back of my dry throat.

Screaming.

I remember screaming for my life, for Oliver’s life. Screaming from terror. So much screaming.

Dr. Shufford hands me a glass of water in a Styrofoam cup packed with crushed ice to quell the coughing fit spurred on by only a few syllables.

The quest for dragging more words and proof of coherency out of me continues for a dreadful hour before my parents are finally content. After which, the police file in despite the doctor’s plea to let me rest.

Regardless of being a victim, I’m interrogated. Questions repeated, the officer’s skeptical of every answer, but it doesn’t stop me from giving them the bare-naked truth.

When everyone can see that I’m exhausted and drained, they finally kill the demands for more information than I can possibly give. The two officers leave me behind with my parents and even though I’m so relieved to see them, I’m ready for them to go as well.

Despite the vivid flashbacks while having to recount the last thirty-six hours, all I can think about is Oliver. Is he here? Is he alive? Is he okay?

“Ashton-” My mother starts.

“Oliver?” His name slips past my lips unrestrained.

Her eyes widen, looking over to my dad, who’s now back in the chair on the other side of my bed.

“He’s here.” She confirms.

“Is he okay? Can I see him?”

“I-I don’t know, honey. They won’t give us any information. Besides, you need to rest.” Her hand slides into mine loosely, avoiding any further damage. “I just don’t understand how this happened.”

Her voice tappers off as more tears slip down her face. I’m too numb right now to acknowledge them, but deep down, I know I feel bad that my parents are scared.

“I don’t know, mom. It just did.”

It... Just... Did...

The chances of accidentally finding Oliver after being MIA for ten years, only to work with him and fall in love with him... well, are kind of insane.

I can’t even bring myself to be upset that he kept his identity a secret.

Especially, now that I know the consequences of him being publicly outed.

It doesn’t change the fact that if he had just gone to the police when he had the chance, everything could have been different.

But he didn’t and here we are, brushed by death and doused in trauma.

Yet, I’m still not mad because despite the games, the hiding, the lies, I love him.

I’ve always loved him.

My dad yawns, then gives me an apologetic look. That’s when I notice the dark circles beneath my mother’s red rimmed eyes and the top of her hair matted down by a thin layer of grease.

The doctor recommended I stay overnight so they can keep an eye out for a concussion, but there’s no way my parents can stay here another minute. They look uncomfortable, depleted, and burnt out.

“Go home.”

My mother starts to shake her head, but I hold up a hand to stop her.

“Seriously, get some rest. I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen to me while I’m here. I’m safe.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince them at this point or myself. “Besides, it looks like I might have some visitors.”

I can see a wide-eyed Sam peeking through the window of my room. She waves dramatically when she sees that I’ve caught her.

Seeing that I won’t be alone, my parents finally relent. They both kiss my forehead before leaving and let an entire herd of punks through the door.

“Jesus Christ, Ash!” Sam flings herself at me causing my body to tense. “Sorry, sorry.”

She eases off but doesn’t dare put as much as an inch between us, squeezing onto the bed beside me.

Than plops down into the chair my father was sleeping in, a cautious smile on his face. Koke stays standing, leaning against the wall on the other side of my bed where my mom was fawning over me and Hypnos jumps onto the stool with wheels, spinning in a circle .

A strangled sound gurgles up my throat, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, at seeing something so normal after everything that had just happened. Sam grabs my face, wiping the tears that fall for the first time since I’ve opened my eyes in the hospital.

When I look down, her thumbs are coated pink from my tears, and I realize I am probably still covered in blood.

“On a scale of one to ten, how crazy do I look?” I ask them.

“Definitely a ten.” Hypnos chuckles.

Than kicks the back of his stool, jolting him forward.

“Dude!” He chastises. “Ash, you don’t look crazy, but you look like you could use some friends.”

“I don’t know, Than. She looks kind of nuts to me.” Koke argues, but then rips a joking smile across his face.

“Screw you guys!” I laugh, trying to wipe my face clean.

Suddenly, I can’t breathe anymore.

“I’m so sorry.”

Oliver’s apology echoes through my mind, whispered in earnest, desperation coating his tongue.

A dangerous glint flashing across his amber eyes, so wide, so delirious.

I was utterly petrified as I watched the blade of the knife in his hands dance wildly above me, threatening my life.

Except, the life taken wasn’t mine. The next few moments felt like being dunked beneath the surface of an ocean.

The lack of air shocked my lungs, a salty, tangy fluid filling my nose.

“Ash!” My name rings in my ears, muffled, like I’m still drowning in someone’s life force.

My shoulders are jostled, my name louder this time.

As if I’m finally being dragged up from beneath the water, I take a large gulp of precious air. My lungs inflate with relief, and I can feel myself begin to breathe again.

“Ash, are you okay?” Sam urges next to me.

I nod, panting, wondering if this is how it’s going to be now. Often dragged back into a memory carved so deeply inside of me that it leaves a scar, protruding and jagged.

“I’m good. I’m okay.”

Concerned gazes surround me and the need to be alone starts to make my skin itch, but there’s still one thing that’s growing like a tumor on my brain; Oliver.

“Have you guys visited with Oliver yet?”

“Nah, family only at this time.” Koke grumbles.

I nod, swallowing the bitter taste of disappointment.

“Hey, um, I’m going to grab a shower. Feeling a little gross.” I gesture to the blood now smeared onto my hands.

“Okay, Ash.” Sam smiles softly, understanding. “Oh, I brought you a few things from home. Toiletries and a change of clothes for when you’re ready to leave.”