Half Hearted

Chapter Four

| Ash |

There was one thing he treasured about himself, in the sea of multitudes he wanted to destroy. Ash had photographic memory, and every day it was bittersweet to have such capabilities.

He would remember her face clearly: the four freckles on her nose, the wrinkle above her left eye. But then there were days when his memory just seemed to nag at him like his mother would. Today, it was that girl's number. The numbers were like a chant in his head.

Sighing, he stood up from the bench and continued to walk around.

In two whole days he had managed to wash dishes for a whole meal, thanks to a Portugese family who'd pitied him. He hated pity. But right then it was all he needed to keep his stomach fed.

It was starting to get chilly, and his breaths had started becoming visible at night. He was also getting tired, and soon enough he was considering going back to Peter. No, you twat. They'll eat you up alive.

He had become more succesful at working for his pay, and soon he had more than enough for a night's rent at the motel. Although, he had other things in mind.

When a person came by, he approached her with caution. Usually people would fear him, cowering away and fast walking past him - which at this time he would think 'yeah bitch, fear me. I can end your life' - but today wasn't like that. The woman's eyes were still crinkling with happiness when she stopped and faced him. After her eyes lingered to his belt loop for longer than usual, she focused her attention on him. "Hi there, how may I help you?"

Ash tried stopping himself from showing his shocked expression. This woman saw what he looked like - his unruly tattoos, his ripped jeans and lip piercings - and without knowing who he was, still offered to help? Shaking his head, he formed a response, "do you know of a payphone I could use nearby?"

Chuckling, the woman smiled. "We don't have payphones here. But there's an old couple down that block that'll happily let you use their phone - no charge. Tell them Eileen sent you."

Giving a sly smile, he nodded and thanked the woman, walking towards the direction she was pointing at.

When he got there he noticed that the sign said 'closed' so he hesitated, and was about to turn around and leave, but he saw the woman still standing there, urging him to go on using her wrinkly hands. So he did.

Inside was a small convenience store. And by 'small', he really did mean small.

"Sorry, we're closed at the moment," a woman's voice chimed in as he walked through the door. She was stocking some things behind the counter.

"Uhm, actually I was wondering if I could borrow your phone?" Then he remembered the woman. "Eileen told me to come here."

Chuckling, the woman stood from the ground and walked towards him. "Of course she did. Well, come on over here, the phone's all yours. Oh, before I forget, you might have to press the number one before you make any calls outside of the country." She noted his peculiar accent.

"Thanks," Ash found himself saying, suddenly unaware of his polite actions. He'd never been much for involuntary respect.

"It's no problem," the woman responded, going back to her cans of sardines. "I'm Paula, by the way. Paula Grimes."

Ash's hands started getting sweaty. But then he remembered the complete generosity that this woman had offered. "Ash," he introduced himself calmly, "Ash Stymest."

"Stymest, huh?" The woman cooed, and Ash found himself hanging on for his life hoping that she wouldn't recognize his name. "Where does that originate? I've been in this town for so long I'm so used to Western family names."

Holding off on the call for a while, he responded to her, "well, my family comes from Bristol."

"Ah," she said, finishing off with the cans and standing up to realize that he hadn't made a call yet. "Sorry, I held you up. Go on ahead, I'll be back here at the storage if you need me."

He nodded as she left him there, giving him the perfect opportunity to steal things and run away. Of course, he didn't, but he was still shocked at how pure these people were.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, Ash picked up the phone - which was an old model, the one with the curly strings keeping the phone part from being away from the number buttons - and dialled her number.

He swallowed his pride, knowing he'd have to beg for her help.

| Teresa |

We were in the middle of cleaning up the aftermath of yesterday's party when my phone rang. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I saw that it was an unknown number.

"Hey, do you guys know this number?" I asked Oria and Steven, who were busy picking up red solo cups from all over the kitchen.

"No," they responded in unison, raising their eyebrows when they came over and saw the unfamiliar number. 

"Put it on speaker," Oria suggested, taking a seat on the couch. I shrugged, laying my phone down on the ottoman in front of us and pressing the speaker button.

"Hello?" I spoke. The person on the other end of the line was breathing loudly. It was like that for about ten seconds, and I was about to hang up, when they finally spoke.

"It's Ash," he spoke. My eyes went wide, and I looked at the two people beside me. They were grinning like fools, Oria batting her eyes at me frantically. 

"How'd you get this number?" I asked him, remembering the time when he outright rejected my hand.

"I-uh-remembered it," he replied, and I found myself giving out a breath in awe. "Anyways I know what I'm going to sound like, after that time at the coffee place or something. But I'm in a tight fix and I..."

He stopped speaking, and I found myself finishing his sentence for him, "you need my help?"

"I don't need it," he shot back quickly, irritated. I rolled my eyes at his words. Even when he was asking for help, he was the worst kind of stubborn. "Look, I just need a place to stay for a while, alright?"

"Wow, even when you're the one asking for help you sound like a douche," I retorted. Steven gave a silent chuckle and went back to cleaning. Oria, on the other hand, looked like she was about to melt at the sound of Ash's voice.

"Was that a yes or a no?"

I looked at my roommate for an answer, and she nodded her head almost instinctively. "Ask me one more time, but nicely."

He gave a loud grunt before returning to the phone, "would you please let me have a roof to sleep under?"

I made a popping sound with my cheek before answering, "I guess it's a yes, asshole."