Scars [Ashton Irwin]

Chapter Twenty-Five

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

McKenzie's POV

I hadn't slept a wink last night. I had thought about that day in the last twelve hours than I ever did in the past two years. That little alien face was permanently imprinted in my mind. Ashton didn't have to live with the guilt. I did. And I made it my mission to let him know what I had to go through each day.

He stood there staring at me, looking like he was having an internal war with himself behind those eyes. He said nothing, and made no move to come closer. I was sure that I looked a mess right now. My hair was unkempt, my face puffy, eyes red and lips dry. I was dressed in a pair of black leggings and one of Kellin's sweaters. But I didn't care that I looked like a dying fish at that moment.

"I am not a murderer." I said sternly, using all of me to keep my voice from quivering like a flake. "And you have no right to call me that. No right." But I couldn't help the tears that fell from my eyes. He said nothing, and so I took that as my cue to continue. "I have to live with myself after what I have done. And you have no clue as to how it feels to spend countless sleepless nights wondering what it would be like had I kept my baby. I have nightmares about it, and it will haunt me until the day that I die."

I stood waiting for him to say something, while I fought to keep myself from falling apart in front of him. He still hadn't moved. He was just staring right at me. It was almost as if he was staring right through me. After a while, I decided that I could no longer stand there and have him stare at me, because it was quite clear that he was not going to say anything. I ran a hand through my messed up hair, took in a deep breath, and started walking.

"Where are you going?" He asked after I had walked past him. I didn't turn around to face him, and I was almost certain that he hadn't turned around either.

"Home." I said simply. I stood waiting for him to say something else. I was about to start moving again, when I heard him speak.

"I just don't understand." He muttered.

"Understand what?" I inquired, still not bothered to turn around.

"You know, you could have gotten yourself killed." He said, and I was silent. "I've heard horrendous stories about illegal abortions gone wrong."

"I am aware of that." I said after almost a minute of silence.
"Then why'd you do it?" He asked, and I heard the sound of the gravel under his shoes, notifying me that he had turned around. "Why would you put yourself at risk like that? Because of him? You were willing to kill yourself for him?"

The tears ran freely now, and I solemnly refused to look at him. How could I? He hated me. I was sure that he hated me. How could he not? I hated myself too.

"I was just afraid. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"Only a week after I turned sixteen, I found out that I was pregnant with my twenty-one year old boyfriend's baby. Do you understand how terrifying that was for me?"

"Twenty-one? He was twenty-one?" He questioned, and I nodded, knowing that he was looking at me. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of me, the look in his eyes burning right through my soul. "He was twenty-one fucking years old and forcing a sixteen year old into a dangerous illegal abortion?"

"But I had a say in all of this, Ash." I defended. I wasn't sure why I was defending him, but I was.

"That's not the point! Little girls are naive, and he used that to his advantage! And you let him."

"I was in love with him!"

"He raped you!"

"He did not!"