Rescue // Ashton Irwin

six.

Ashton.

"Help me! Please Ash," a voice cried weakly, waking me up from my state of sleep.

Adley.

I quickly rushed out of bed, getting to her as fast as I could.

She was a mess, sobbing as she kicked and thrashed, still asleep.

"Please don't... I'm sorry," she mumbled, tears still cascading down her cheeks.

"Ads," I whispered, not wanting to startle her.

She stirred a bit,but went right back into her nightmare.

"Ads," I said a bit louder, finally managing to wake her up.

"Ash," she said brokenly, collapsing into my side.

My heart broke at the sound of her sobs. I gently picked her up before taking her into my room and placing her in the safety of my bed.

"Come here," I sighed, holding her close to me, rubbing her back gently in an attempt to calm her.

"You're safe with me," I assured her, knowing that it was exactly what she needed to hear.

This seemed to have become a routine lately, her waking up in the middle of the night with flashbacks from "the attack" and me having to clam her down.

She'd been staying with me since she was released from the hospital, but she wasn't doing well at all.

She hardly ever slept unless she was in my arms after a nightmare, and she only ate enough to get by, and, sometimes not even that.

I was extremely worried and had tried to get her to go with me to group, but she refuses, promising to go next time, but that never happens.

I'd been skipping sessions as well. I was afraid to leave her by herself. She was in a dark place and I didn't know what she would do if she was alone.

All of my attempts to bring her back into the light had failed and I didn't know what to do anymore.

After trying to convince her to go to group, I suggested a personal therapist, which she quickly refused before locking herself up in her bedroom.

I was running out of time before she got into a place that I couldn't reach her.

Finally, after almost three weeks of being locked up in the house, I decided I was going to get her out of the safety of my walls, hoping that would bring something worth getting up for back into her life.

"Get up Ads, we're going out," I said one morning, walking into the bedroom where she laid under a pile of blankets.

"I don't want to," she whined, sounding more like a child than the eighteen year old she actually was.

"I know you don't, but you have to," I told her.

"But-"

"No 'but's', get dressed. We're leaving in twenty."

I disappeared from the doorway, giving her some privacy.