The Lines Between Us | ✔

|.19.|

September 19th, 5:32 am,

Ash

My senses are a-wall. I feel drowsy, like a ton of bricks have been strapped to my neck, forcing me down. I don't need to worry about keeping it up, though- my neck appears to be uncomfortably laid on a pile of rubbish. I am in some sort of makeshift dumpster, my body propped up on a dirty mattress. Well, at least he didn't throw me in a lake or something. Actually, being in a lake right now would be better than being here. I am frozen. My body is fully clothed, yet every inch of my skin is on fire with burning ice. Goosebumps encase my whole body, the only place without them being my face. The smell surrounding me is toxic, I feel the need to run away because it's that bad.

Liam left me exactly where I was, just brought me closer to the wall, hidden from sight. Though my skin is frozen, anger still boils through me, heating some parts of me up. If only I had strangled him harder.

I wince in pain, the pressure from the hit still banging on my head. Attempting to lift my body up, I fall backward instantly, my head colliding with the rotting springs. My body is weak, my nerves chilled. I am incapable of even lifting myself up. Come on, Ash. Forcing my weight up, I move my legs slowly, stumbling through the dirty tunnel. I use my hands occasionally as I fall forward. It would be easier to crawl. Music still echoes through the walls. When I said they are open 24/7, I meant it.

Instead of traveling through the building, I take the longer, but safer route. Going around. It's not much longer, but in these conditions, it feels like a lifetime. My bike is out front of the building, waiting for me. I parked it away, hidden just in case someone tried to take it when I was inside. After a treacherous journey, I throw myself onto the dark mass. When I say throw, I mean fall from the coldness. My legs physically cannot stay up. There is no way I can ride in these conditions. I need to call someone. Peter.

My fingers can barely tap the numbers into the keypad, shaking as they touch a few wrong ones in the process. Following about a hundred chimes, I conclude he isn't going to pick up. I only have one choice left. Clarkson. Unlike Peter, he picks up on the second tone. ''What do you want? Honestly, this man. He is even angrier than me.

''I need. . . help.'' My words come out a stuttering mess. Half because I dread having to ask him for help, and half because I physically can't make the words come out.

''How may I be of assistance?'' His tone stays the same. Can he not tell I am dying?

''I'm outside. . . Talons,'' I choke out, my legs collapsing on the floor. Dropping the phone, it falls out into the road, scraping along the tarmac.

''Ashton?''

''Help.'' I try to get the words out, but it doesn't work. I have to hope he has done a drug bust here, as there is no way he will be able to find it. He doesn't strike me as a party guy, so I just have to hope.

''Ash. . . You're going to be okay. I'll be there as fast as I can.'' He ends the call. I am surprised actually, he sounds close to actually caring. None of that dull bullshit he always has on, he sounded genuinely sorry. His words aren't the most comforting, he sounds like he hasn't told anyone they will be okay. . . ever.

My bones are frozen now, my body shivering violently. I want it to go away. It doesn't hurt, purely because I am so cold I can't feel anything. My body screams as soon as I hear the waling sirens. There appears to be more than one. I swear to God, if an ambulance comes down this road I will physically shoot Clarkson myself.

Nobody has left Talons, no matter how hard I tried to crawl over to the door and call someone, I couldn't. My hands are scratched from scraping the floor, trying to reach it. The slam of doors radiates, and feet run towards me.

''You are going to be okay,'' I hear a woman say in my ear, turning my body over. I catch a small glimpse of her face, but my eyes are more focused on the two vehicles, one large, red, and white. The other is a long, black car. I didn't think Clarkson would have much style, but I am sorely mistaken. A scowl appears on my face as I attempt a smile when I am lifted up on the stretcher. I hate my life. Never in my existence did I think I would have to go through this embarrassment twice in a month. Now I know how Bella feels, she is one every week.

''Where's Bella?'' It comes out as more of a groan than speech.

The woman looks at me confused, but Clarkson interrupts, ''Ash, we're going to find her, okay?'' No, that's not okay. ''We'll talk in the hospital,'' He adds, stepping out of the vehicle.

''No, we need to find her now!'' I demand, trying to get up, but I am securely strapped in. I can feel hands on my shoulder, a blanket of some sort being thrown over my body. The last time I was in here, I wasn't even conscious. Now, I am aware of everything. A large strap is attached to my arm, possibly a blood pressure monitor or something. I honestly don't care, I just need to know Bella is okay. How could I be so stupid to leave the dorm without her? She could still be there, but I don't think Liam would do this to me unless he needed to get to her.

I walked right into his plan.

I feel a familiar plastic hit my mouth. My anger is heating me up, I don't need any oxygen. My body struggles under the grasp of the woman. ''Can you let go of me, I am fine,'' My voice muffled through the mask.

The woman laughs half-heartedly, as though I am joking. ''No love, you might have hypothermia, we need to take a closer look.''

My heart lurches at the mention, knowing Bella is possibly outdoors right now. I trust that Clarkson will find her, but he couldn't last time. No one could. I can't be certain unless I am there.