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WARNING: this chapter is GORY. I will have ***'s before and a ' xxxxxxxxx' at the end of the sections that you need to worry about running into that stuff.
Approximately three minutes after Karen and Daryl Clifford finished their speech, Ashton finds himself looking into the miserable eyes of his sixteen year old self. The picture Lauren took of him is being displayed in front of the large Christmas tree. Michael and Ashton are standing in front of the tree, looking at the picture amongst a crowd of other people doing the same thing. But as the other people filter through, Michael and Ashton stay put.
The picture displayed is kind of blurry around the edges but the middle is clear. It shows Ashton's hazel orbs and unruly golden curls peeking out from behind a fancy camera. The picture was not nearly clear enough to identify any of his facial features, just those two traits were visible from over the mask of the camera in front of his face and the blurred background of a Christmas tree behind him. In the picture, He was wearing an old red sweater and faded plaid pajama pants.
Ashton knows automatically when this picture was taken. He was 16 in the picture. It was a year before he murdered his mother. A year before he escaped. A year before he found home.
"She must of taken it when you were taking their Christmas picture," Michael says quietly to him.
"Yeah, But why?" Ashton asks in response.
"I don't know," Michael frowns. In the picture he could read the emotions showing through Ashton's eyes. He could see the misery, the sadness, the hurt, the fury, and the danger that shouldn't of been in the sixteen year old's eyes. There was also his white-knuckled hands, gripping the camera almost too tightly. The boy was broken. Michael noticed something familiar form Ashton's stance in the picture. By the way Ashton was standing in the picture, Michael could tell he was trying to resist the urge to shoot. Michael found his gaze trailing down the side of Ashton's red sweater to his hip. There he saw the outline of the handle of a gun.
Ashton sighs, he hates this. He hates that he wants to know why Lauren took the picture. He hates that he cares. He hates everyone. He hates everything. He hates everyone. He hates everything. He hates everyone. He hates everything. He hates people. He hates people. He hates society. He hates society. Society is like a small box. If you don't fit in, you'll get thrown out. Ashton hates small spaces.
"What a worthless piece of shit."
Both Ashton and Michael's heads shot towards the speaker of the comment.
"What do you mean?" The lady next to him asked.
"I mean look at him. The boys a slob. He isn't dressed nicely and he obviously isn't right in the head. He's a serial killer. He's worth nothing."
Bad idea. Michael turns and taps Ashton on the wrist, saying quietly, "Let's go to my room. It's time to get this party started."
Ashton nods and they both turn around, The curly haired boy stepping behind the red haired one and following him through the crowd.
---
"Why did I decide to let all these random low class people into my house again?" Karen Clifford asks herself. She is in her master bathroom, just adding the finishing touches to her second gown of the night.
"Oh right, publicity Karen, Aaron said it will make you seem kinder..." The woman continues to mumble to herself as she finishes up her makeup.
Once satisfied, She turns around to head back to the party but stops when she sees something in the doorway. Karen cautiously approaches the doorway to find a silver platter in it's foot.
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Roaming Free
Fanfiction(Muke/Cashton boyxboy au) There are four names everyone knows in the city of Watertown. Four names that have had the people worried for three years. Four teens who have been tripping the police up. Four dangerous boys who are roaming free. Those...
