Page 5

Chapter Four

Ashland

I stare at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. They jolt vertically over and over again, resetting every few seconds. They don’t glow much anymore. I’m not sure if they really glow at all or if it’s my imagination. Doesn’t really matter, I guess.

I count them even though I know how many are left. Twenty. Where will I be when I’m twenty? I hope I’m not alive, but if I am, is it nice? Will I be walking down the street breathing in fresh air? The thought is stupid. I know it as I picture it. It makes me sick as much as it makes me giddy. Just the small possibility, the tiny pin prick of hope, is enough to make me count the stars again.

Momma always told me that stars weren’t special. She said that contrary to Disney’s bullshit, you couldn’t wish on one. ‘They’re just fuckin rocks.’ Well, I’d rather be a fucking rock. At least I’d be completely mindless.

If I could sigh, I think I would. I don’t think a fifteen-year-old is supposed to be this melancholy, but my little journal I shove under the raised edge of the carpet begs to differ. I write sentences. I wouldn’t call them poems, and they’re certainly not love letters, but I write lines on a piece of paper sometimes that help me feel. I read them over and over again wishing I could shove them into a bottle and send them off into the sea to be picked up by someone who would just fucking care.

Up. Down. Up. Down. The stars bounce.

Can you kill yourself with a piece of paper? Asking for me. What about a bottle cap? Can you choke hard enough to end it? It sounds pretty painful and I don’t think I could do it, but I imagine.

Who would come to my funeral? Me, obviously, but who else? I wonder if my momma would be there. I get a sweet and sour taste in my mouth at the same time. I hate her, but even after her death I want her to love me. I want her to somehow show me a sign that I wasn’t the worst fucking thing that ever happened to her. The others either don’t care or they pretend they don’t, but I do.

The truth is that I’ll be buried in a backyard if I’m lucky. They’ll shove my body into a deep grave, probably with a few others, and cover me up to rot. My momma told me that once. That I started rotting the day I was born. I watched her rot. Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

What if someday I’m not the object of his affection? Will he leave me alone? Will he let me just walk out of this place with a thank you, a hug, and a wave? Only during these times do I fantasize about something beyond this.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

The squeak of the mattress fills my ears like an alarm. The world is opening up again, forcing me to be in it.

“Who do you belong to, Ashland?”

The tears stream down my cheeks, but I’m not sure why. It’s instinctual, probably. He likes it when I cry.

Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. Beeping accompanies each movement.

It’s almost over. I can tell by his grunts. Up. Up. Up.

I stare at the stars and count them again, slowly absorbing myself in each number. I heard about constellations once. I don’t really know how they work other than the Big Dipper, but I know they’re stars with stories. I’ve made my own up, and I recount them in my head as he tells me he loves me.

My phone alarm is blaring over and over again. It bleeds into my nightmare where I see him.

Alarm. That’s an alarm. Fuck. Shit. Not again.

My arms flail as I fall out of the bed, taking the sheets with me.

“Fuck,” a groggy voice mumbles. Chance grabs the pillow and shoves it over his face. “Make it stop.”

This time it’s a dingy apartment. I didn’t mean to pass out, but we drank so much last night that I must have. I spot my backpack by the door and a faint memory of me forcing this guy to stop by my house and get my stuff filters through the haze. At least I came prepared. My head is pounding as I throw on my clothes and brush my teeth. Chance doesn’t even move. I can’t find my bra, and I just accept it. It’s not my favorite thing to do but extreme circumstances call for extreme measures. I grab my board and head for my class, dreading it the whole way.

This time I hope Alexi has enough sense to stay away from me. Hopefully over the weekend he found someone new to bother, and he’ll forget I exist. Luckily, I make it to class before the professor. I set my laptop out and place my sketch pad behind it. Darkness seeps from the pages so I flip to a new one. The nightmare I had haunts me. I draw the stars on the ceiling mindlessly.

“Ms. Bradshaw.” Alexi sits down next to me. I don’t acknowledge him.

Something appears on top of my sketch. A bottle of ibuprofen. I finally look up into his amused eyes. “What is this?”

“You’re hungover.”

I squint at him, trying to find a way to refuse, but my head is pounding so hard that I can feel it in my ass, so I take it. I dump four of the pills into my hand as he passes me a water bottle.

“Did you drug this?”

He grins, taking it and breaking the seal. “Fresh out of the vending machine.” The cool water soothes the back of my scratchy throat. He drops his eyes to my chest when I take the pills.

I raise my eyebrow in question. “My eyes are up here.”

He gives me a sneaky smile and pulls off his hoodie, handing it over. “Here. To help my wandering eyes.”

“I’m not giving it back."

“I didn’t expect you to.”

I notice the girls in the row in front of me glancing back and giving me the evil eye. I bare my teeth, and they promptly turn around. They don’t understand that I don’t fucking want this. They don’t understand that I’m being harassed.

If I could run out of this class screaming or punch holes in the wall, I would. I grab my phone and text Cole, begging him to show up early with extra caffeine and a phone charger because I only have fifteen percent until it dies. He enthusiastically agrees.

The professor walks in and immediately begins. I situate myself and slide back into my seat, taking the charcoal and paper with me.

“Drawing again?” Alexi whispers.

“No. You’re going to miss the lecture.”

“Good thing my study partner is smart." He winks.

I roll my eyes and keep tracing the stars.

“That stunt you pulled with the phone number was pretty slick,” he continues. “The guy from brunch?”

“Cole.”

“Right. Cole. So is he in Sig Ep?”

“That’s a weird question,” I mutter. “No. He’s not in a frat. He agrees that they’re all full of assholes who peaked in high school.”

“So he’s not your boyfriend?”

“Ew,” I blanch. “No. We’re just friends.” The twinkle in Alexi’s eye tells me I made a huge fucking mistake telling him that.

“Good. You’re out of his league.”

“And you think you’re in mine?” I huff under my breath, counting down the seconds until this class is over.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of assuming that.” He finally quiets, writing notes furiously in his notebook. They’re chaotic. I’m a mess, but if I took notes like that I would never be able to make heads or tails of them.

The professor keeps us five extra minutes. I’m already packed up by the time we’re released. I rush out, trying to escape Alexi. When I get into the hallway, Cole is leaning against the wall with two coffees in his hand. That’s enough espresso to send me into cardiac arrest. Thank God. Maybe today will be the day. Cole’s cool collected smile is practiced and so is his lean.

“You’re my fucking savior,” I groan as I take it. “And what about—?”

He holds up a white charger, flashing me a grin. “Brought it."

The overwhelming aura of Alexi Daemon crowds around me. “You’re quick. Could give me a run for my money out on the field."

I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, and I don’t want to. We still have an entire semester left. This class is going to be miserable unless I find a way to get this stage five clinger away from me.

Cole has a strange look on his face. His eyes slowly roll to me. “This is the guy who has been bothering you?”

“Yes. Speaking of, how do I get rid of bodies?”

Alexi ignores my bullshit and extends his hand. “Cole, right?”

“Right.” Cole's seyes are wide as he shakes his hand.

“You must be the guy who had the unfortunate job of rejecting me over text,” Alexi chuckles.

Cole looks horrified. “That was you?”

“Nice response, by the way. You let me down easy.”

Cole gives me an irritated look. “I’ve had practice.”

“I don’t know if you remember, but we sat with you at Sunny’s a few weeks ago. Alexi Daemon.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. I know. I’ve got your jersey.” Cole hands me the coffees. I take them greedily, sucking one down while they chat.

“Glad you’re a fan.” Alexi grins, holding the straps of his backpack. “Usually everyone loves my brother.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s great, but the way you can run a ball down the field is like watching parkour. If you wanted to, you could go pro right now.”

“Thanks, man. Hey, we’re having a party tomorrow. Why don’t you guys stop by? It’s open bar.”

“No,” I answer immediately.

Cole’s eyes dart between us, pleading with me. When he realizes I’m serious, disappointment passes across his features. “I think we’re busy.”

“Bummer.” Alexi looks far from bummed. “If your plans get canceled, come by. Feel free to bring whoever you want. Since I have your number, Cole, I’ll send you the address. Just in case.” He winks at me, and I roll my eyes.

Cole is already forming a plan in his mind on how to get me to that party. “Yeah, alright.”

“It was good to see you again. Hope I see you guys tomorrow. If not, I’ll save ya a seat in class next week.” With one last wink Alexi walks away.

I start toward the opposite entrance, because I do not want to run into him again. “I thought he’d never leave.”

Cole looks like his entire world has been rocked. “I can’t believe Alexi fucking Daemon is the guy who is sitting next to you in class. Fuck. He’s as cool as I thought he was,” he gushes like a teenage girl talking about his crush.

“Do you know him or something?”

“I forget you basically live under a rock. He plays for Cassium.”

“This is still sounding like some ridiculous game of Clue.” I head out of the doors of the building toward the library with Cole on my heels. “Alexi in the auditorium never shutting the fuck up.”

“He plays football for Cassium. Like…Alexi is the running back. They say that—”

I stop and hold up my hand. “Let me stop you right there. I literally do not give a fuck about whatever words are going to come out of your mouth next. That asshole broke the cardinal rule of sitting in a class. If he keeps sitting next to me, I might actually end his life. Then whatever football shit you were saying won’t matter, okay?”

Cole tilts his head. “Is that his hoodie?”

“We’re not discussing my clothing choices.”

“Everyone on this campus, and maybe on every other campus, would kill to have his attention,” he points out.

“Well, I’m not everyone. I mean, he even asked if you were my boyfriend." I give an exasperated laugh.

Cole looks straight ahead. “What did you say?”

“No, of course,” I balk. He deflates momentarily.

“Ashland, if I may.” Cole puts his hand to my chest, stopping me. “I know you hate everyone all of the time, but Alexi is cool. We were just invited to a football party, and you’re trying to turn it down. If not for yourself, do it for me. He’s obviously going to bother you in class either way. Might as well take advantage of it.”

“You’re acting like this shit requires a list." I roll my eyes, tossing the empty coffee cup in a trash can.

Cole chases behind me, trying to catch up. “Because it does. People don’t just get into those parties. Penny will kill you if she finds out we were invited and didn’t go.”

“You sure know how to sweet talk a woman,” I sigh.

“I should have started with that,” he chuckles.

“Fine, but only to get you in. I’m emptying the bar and leaving.”

Penny is waiting for us on the top floor of the library in one of the sound-proof study rooms. I throw my bag onto the tabletop and my sketchbook slides out. She takes a look at it then glances at me with worry in her eyes.

“So you’ll never guess what just happened,” Cole says with excitement.

“Hm,” Penny contemplates her answer. “Ashland released a rabid raccoon in the Student Union?”

“Rude to call me a raccoon,” I tease, grateful Cole intervened.

His eyes are bright with excitement. “She got us invited to a football party tomorrow. Turns out the stalker in her class is Alexi Daemon.”

“I don’t know who that is, but those parties are fucking legendary,” she squeals. “I want that gold top ASAP.”

“Go for it,” I sigh. “I’m going to dress like it’s a funeral. Because it is. For my social status.”

“You don’t have a social status,” Penny snickers.

Cole bites his tongue. Smart man. “Alright. I’ve got work. Don’t wait up. I’ll be doing a double shift to make up for tomorrow.”

Penny waits a total of thirty seconds after he has left the room to start therapy. “Ashland, I’m worried about you.”

“You’re ten years too late.” I take a sharpie from my bag and start drawing on my skin.

“Don’t get me wrong.” She sets her stuff down and pushes it away, telling me she’s serious. “I’ve made my fair share of bad decisions, but…it’s getting concerning, Ash. You’re waking up somewhere new at least twice a week, and that’s unlike you. Worst case scenario, you usually come stumbling through the door and sleeping in the foyer. Now you’re getting blackout. You never have a phone so it’s not like I can ever figure out where you are. I’m always worried I’ll get a phone call that…It’s gotten worse since we got back from summer vacation. Now you’re drawing with charcoal again? What is happening with you?”

I grind my teeth and stare at my hands. Telling Penny that I don’t know what the hell I want to do with my life is just going to make her try to help me figure it out. Not only that, but I don’t want to tell her about seeing shit and having nightmares.

“I’m just stressed, Dr. Penny.”

“Bullshit!” She smacks her hand on the table. “I fucking love your art. I think it’s a much better outlet than binge drinking. I miss when you did it, but I’m not an idiot. We lean on each other when shit is hard. That’s like rule three hundred and sixteen of being a Cunt of the Century. You aren’t asking me for help. You’re supposed to ask me for help.”

I can’t tell her I don’t need help, because she’ll see right through it. So, I need to find something to satisfy her. That’s the problem with meeting someone at your lowest and watching each other heal. They know what it looks like when you start to spiral.

“I can’t have another repeat of Freshman year,” she says gently.

“I’m not…I’m not doing that. I told you. I’m stressed. Jeremy called me.”

She sits back in her seat. I can see the possibilities running through her mind. She’s already packing and planning new identities.

“Not like that,” I panic. “He just said that Memphis was denied parole is all.”

It’s not a lie. My older brother, Memphis, has been in prison for seven years. Even though I haven’t seen him in eight, it doesn’t make it any easier. The letter from him tucked away in my favorite book is still unopened and has been since I got it before we left for the summer. Penny would lose it if she knew I had it. I’m not sure why I even keep it. Maybe I just hope I can make him eat it some day before I kill him with my bare hands. Add that to the list of thoughts Penny doesn’t need to hear.

She comes over to my side of the table and pulls me into a hug. Penny’s hugs are the best in the world. I’m pretty sure she could create world peace with a hug if they would give her the chance.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. Not by choice anyways.

“ We aren’t going anywhere,” she corrects me.

I take a deep breath, inhaling strawberries.

“Did you just fucking sniff me?” she giggles.

“Yeah, you got a problem?”

“Nope, not one." She hugs me tighter before releasing me, eyeing the sketchbook poking out of my bag. “Can I look?”

“Yeah." I hand it over. It’s still on the page of stars.

“Wow,” she muses. “I still think the ones you did on your arm are better, but this is a close second.”

I hold out my arm, comparing them. Nineteen tiny stars are sketched out inside of my elbow. Nineteen tiny stars that were left when I finally stopped dying. Nineteen tiny stars that I’ll never forget.

“Do you see these stars, Ashland?” he asks.

I nod my head timidly. This is another test, I’m sure. Something about this smells like death. The entire ceiling is covered with the glow-in-the-dark stars.

“These represent how much I love you, but you keep breaking my heart.” His voice is full of emotion as he pulls out a knife. He notches it behind one of the stars and wiggles it until it pops off, dropping onto the mattress. “Every single time you break my heart, I’m going to take one down. Each one will have a consequence. Love isn’t limitless, ya know?”

He has that wild look in his eyes. He’s high as shit, and that makes him unpredictable. He’s waiting for an answer.

“I know,” I croak, feeling tears threatening to fall.

“Oh, baby girl,” he croons, coming over and caressing my face. “Don’t cry, or you’ll get me hard.”

Evil. That’s the only thing that’s ever in his eyes. I can’t tell if I like his words or hate them anymore. They mean that he’s happy with me, and when he’s happy it doesn’t hurt as bad.

“When there aren’t any stars left, I’ll stop loving you. And you don’t want me to stop loving you, do you?”

I feel panic rising. It’s a warning. If everything that has happened was out of love, then who is he when he doesn’t love me anymore?

He pets my hair roughly, trying to determine if he’s going to rip it out or wrap it around his fist. “So, who do you belong to, Ashland?”

I gather my confidence and put it into my voice with everything I have. If I don’t, I might lose another star.

“You.”