Sorry. I'm Sad. • Lashton

Chapter 4: New Friends and the Horans

*may be triggering*

(Ashton's POV)

    I ran out of school in tears, Niall and Calum hot on my trail. I lost them when I exited the school and ran for my house. "I'm so done with Luke's crap." I thought to myself. It was getting harder to see as I cried more tears, but if a car were to hit me, then so be it.

    I ran until I reached my front door. I unlocked it and swung the door open, running again. I couldn't deal with my dad. Not now.

    "Ashton." I kept running. Down the hall, up the stairs. "Ashton come back here." He sounded angry as he shouted from the bottom of the stairs. I closed my bedroom door and locked it, putting my desk chair under the door nob in case he had a key for my bedroom. I pulled out my little box which housed my mother's necklace, engagement ring, and my blades. I took one out, admiring the shiny metal. I set it back in the box, and took off my jacket, then T-shirt, and then my boots and pants. I was sitting on my bed in my boxers and I picked up the sharp piece of metal once again.

    "End it all." The voices flooded my head and I put the blade to my wrist.

    "It's not like your father will care. You're just a burden." I dragged the blade across my skin, hoping someone will come through the door and tell me to stop because they care. But my dad doesn't even care enough to walk up the stairs. I make another cut, this one a little deeper due to the fact that I started to get angry. I felt a tear role down my face and I quickly wiped it away. I made a few more cuts to my scarred skin, watching blood pool on my wrist. I continued to wipe the tears that never seemed to stop. And the thing is, they probably won't stop. I watched at the blood rolled down my forearm. I grabbed my t-shirt and wiped the already drying blood. I walked down stairs quietly and saw my dad passed out on the old, musty couch. I walked into the bathroom, turning the hot water on and stripping of my boxers. I stepped in and watched the blood disappear from my wrist and I felt more hot tears burning down my face. I put my whole body under the scorching water and rested my head against the cold wall. I bit my lip to silence my sobs, not wanting to bother my father.

    I washed myself and got out, wrapping a towel loosely around my waist. I grabbed my boxers and quietly walked out, thanking whatever god is out there that my father was still passed out. I tip-toed over to him, grabbing a knitted blanket off the back of a lounge chair and draped it over his body.

    "Good night Father." I turned off the light and walked up stairs, slowly closing the door. I dropped the towel and pulled on a pair of grey sweat pants. I admired the work on my arm, tracing over the new cuts with the tip of my index finger before walking back over to where the door is to turn off my light. I walked back to my bed and sat down, letting my legs dangle off the side. I grabbed my iPod and made sure to turn my sound on this time. I lifted my blanket up and slid into it's warm embrace and looked at the ceiling, arms crossed over my chest.

    Yay. Another day tomorrow. Another day of hell. And I fell asleep thinking of what was lurking for me the next day.

    It was around four in the morning when I was woken by blood curdling screams. I sat up and listened but it didn't happen again. Maybe I was imagining it. I hoped I was. I decided to go check on Father anyway. I walked down the dark stairs into the dark room and it looked like something out of a horror movie. I quickly turned the light on and saw my father sleeping peacefully. I shook my head and turned the light back out. I had around two and a half hours until I needed to be up for school.

    I got settled back in bed, closing my eyes.

    The Radar ringtone filled my sleepy ears and I sighed. I've only been asleep for like, 10 minutes. I unlocked my iPod to shut off the alarm and got up, rubbing my face. I stepped out of my sweatpants and pulled on a pair of tight blue boxers. I dug through my drawer and pulled out a pair of blue jeans. I forgot I had these. They weren't skin tight but it still said 'skinny' on the tag. I pulled them on and rolled the ankles up because they were too long for me. I pulled on a black sweater and grabbed the only other pair of shoes I have, my all black Target branded Vans. I pulled them on and fixed my hair in my small mirror. I took in the bruise on my jaw, tearing up at the sight. I did nothing to deserve that. But the voices in my head were telling me I did deserve it.