Even Heroes Have Scars

[51] Old Ways

Ansley's P.O.V.

After I sped away from Demi's house, I pulled into a dinky gas station before I finally allowed myself to break down. My fists banged on the steering wheel and I screamed at the top of my lungs, shoving my face into my palms as the sun set in the distance. A few people gave me odd looks but I ignored all of them.

A man in a cowboy hat tapped on my window and I rolled it down partway. His breath reeked of whiskey and his voice was slurred as he was tipsy far more than he should have been. He asked if I was okay and I replied saying I was fine. Then I rolled up the window and he left.

It felt like my heart was killing me from the inside out, taking hold of my chest and eventually my body.

You weren't good enough for her.

You were so emotional that she needed a backup plan to come to her rescue.

It was all planned. She couldn't take any more of you so she called Wilmer.

My hands cupped over my ears as I tried to listen to anything but the voices. They were too strong. Too loud. There were too many of them.

A scream emerged from my throat and I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I needed to listen to music. I needed to sing over them. But one problem. The song that was stuck in my head was "Yes." The song we wrote together. The melody that we created. And the only other song I could think of was Kiss Me by Ed Sheeran. Our song.

"No! Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!" I cried out as my tears trickled down my cheeks and into my bare knees.

And I stopped crying. Just like that. Staring at my knees, it all stopped. I stopped feeling. I stopped caring. I stopped thinking, like I was in a trance. The scars on my legs were beyond visible.

I turned off my car and got out, then trudged myself up the ramp and into the gas station that smelled like urine. The lights were low as always and I stared at the cooler section that was full of alcohol drinks. My fake ID was stupid, there was no way I could swing that. So instead, I turned to face the counter, asking for a pack of Marlboro cigarettes as I grabbed a lighter from a small cardboard box. Who cared if I blew a few dollars on numbness? The high would be worth it.

The lady behind the counter gave me a strange glance as she looked me over, but she quickly turned around and found a box of Marlboro Lights, then handed them to me as she added up the total of my items.

After I paid, I exited the gas station only to sit on the curb of the sidewalk and light up. I almost coughed from having not smoked in a while, but I kept myself under control, inhaling and exhaling the smoke, absorbing the high feeling it gave me.

"What the fuck?" There was a female voice coming from somewhere around me but my world was swirling to such an extreme that I didn't bother to look. "Ansley?"

The owner of the voice plopped down beside me and when I faced her, I was absolutely shocked that out of all the people it could have been, it had to be her.

"What do you want, Britney?" I snapped, breathing out a puff of smoke.

She chuckled softly to herself. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" My foot tapped as I looked away.

"Well your breath smells like this is your third cigarette in the past ten minutes and your facial expression tells me some shit went down that you don't want to talk about." She leaned forward to see my face. "What happened, fatty? Finally realize how fucked up you are?"

It was like she knew what the voices were saying to me and she felt the need to repeat it all. That bitch.

My eyes fell to the asphalt and I inhaled, holding the cigarette between my index finger and my middle finger. Cars entered the lot and cars left, freeing up gas pumps and filling them right back up.