The Therapist's Son // Ashton Irwin [AU] ✔

Prologue*

"I don't know what you want me to do, Rob! Am I supposed to walk around with a smile on my face, acting like everything's fine, like we're just one big, happy, unbroken family?! We're not, and I refuse to make people think we are!" I heard my mother scream from downstairs. I covered my ears, trying to block out the noise, my breathing erratic, eyes closed in hopes of disappearing. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

"We aren't broken! We can all get through this!" My father yelled back.

"I don't understand how you can do this," She responded, her voice quivering. By the sound of her voice, it was obvious she was in tears, or at least close to it. "Our little girl is dead and you want me to act like everything is perfect? 'Move on', you say! I can't! Ashley isn't here anymore, and she's not coming back!"

"It's not my fault! It was Natalie behind the wheel, she's the only one that could have stopped it!" At the mention of my name, tears leaked from my eyes as well, and a sob forced its way past my lips. It was my fault, it was my fault, it was my fault. I had caused the accident. My sister was dead because of me.

"Don't bring Natalie into this, you know she already feels bad enough!" Her voice only seemed to raise, probably well aware I could hear every word they exchanged. Their words were daggers to each other and to me.

"You know what, when you two move on and want to be a family again, give me a call." My father said, and minutes later I heard the front door slam, and my mother fell silent, as usual. After the storm, it was always just a silent cry or an aching numbness.

Ever since that day in February, all my parents had done was fight. It's hard when you only want someone to be there for you, and the only people you thought you could trust were constantly at each other's throats. I wanted them to stop fighting, I wanted to be able to talk to them without feeling hated, I wanted my family back.

After calming down a bit, I left my room and went downstairs. My mother was sat on the couch, staring at the blank wall across the room. Her eyes were watering, but even after Dad had left, she still refused to show weakness. She wouldn't cry.

"Mom?" I said, holding in a sob. My voice was shaky. "He's right. It's my fault. I was the one who caused the accident. She's dead because of me, I killed Ashley!"

"No, no, honey," My mother said, standing up and walking towards me. I finally broke, unable to hold it in anymore. Still, she pulled my body against hers, soothingly letting me sob in her arms. "It wasn't your fault."

"Everything is my fault!" I screamed, pulling away from her. "I'm the reason Ashley is dead, I'm why you two fight all the time! No wonder everyone hates me!"

"What are you talking about, Natalie? No one hates you." Her tone seemed calm and gentle, the complete opposite of what it had been minutes before when my father was here.

"You don't know about what happens, Mom. When I'm at school and I become the 'freak' who killed her sister. They don't get it!" She looked at me sympathetically, before opening her mouth to speak, but I cut her off. It was time for the truth to come out, for my mother to know how I've been feeling for the past three months. "But that's okay...Because no matter how much they hate me, no one in the world will ever hate me as much as I do."

"Natalie, I didn't know-"

"Of course you don't know! Don't you ever ask yourself why I wear long sleeves all the time? Why I keep my door closed all the time, why I avoid looking at my own reflection? The guilt I live with everyday...I can't stand myself! But you wouldn't know, you're too busy fighting with Dad to notice!" I sobbed, and my mother gasped, tears finally flowing down her cheeks, before I ran out of the living room, rushing towards my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

*****

There was a knock on my bedroom door about an hour later, and I sighed, knowing it was my mom.

"Yeah." I quietly said, tugging at my sleeves. My mom entered the room, her eyes red, makeup smeared, it was obvious she had been crying as much as I had, if not more.

"I called your father," Mom explained, her voice hoarse as she sat on the end of my bed. "And we talked some things over. I want to let you know what's going to happen. We don't think this is a good environment anymore, so we're going to start fresh. Just you and me. Dad is going to stay here because of work until we can get some things sorted out. You'll be at a new school, in a new house, new habits, and we can make everything better. Everything will work itself out, right?" I nodded, feeling to weak to fight back.

"Don't be mad, but I think we should have you start seeing a therapist to help you sort through your problems, Natalie." My mom quietly spoke. At her suggestion, my eyes widened.

"A therapist?" I repeated. "I don't need a therapist. Whatever 'problems' I have, I can solve on my own. I've made it this far, haven't I?"

"And look at your wrists, Natalie! You call that 'solving problems'?! It's putting your life at risk! I don't care if it takes therapy, or money...I don't care, I won't loose both my daughters. I can't. If anything happened to you and I had a chance to stop it..." She trailed off, her voice cracking. I nodded, ashamed as I stared at my lap.

"We're leaving in two weeks, think you can be packed by then?" She asked after a few minutes of silence, and I nodded again. Mom wiped her eyes before standing up and walking towards the bedroom door.

"Mom?" I asked, and she turned back to me. "Where are we moving?"

"Hornsby, Australia." She said, and my eyes widened. We currently lived in California, why was she making us move so far away? "Fresh start, remember?"

I nodded.

"We'll get through this, and everything will be fine. I promise. Night, Natalie."

"Good night, Mom." I said, before rolling over on my side, thinking about what would happen in two weeks. I could start again, be the pretty, popular, funny girl I've always wanted to be. I could change my entire back story, be anyone I wanted to be. Mom and Dad wouldn't be fighting anymore. Of course, I'd have to keep it a secret that I would be seeing a therapist God-knows-how-often.

But what I didn't know, was that I would find something new, exciting, something to keep me here and make me happy again.

Love.

*****

Hey, so this probably sucked, but it will get better! I just wanted to give you some insight into Natalie's background and such.

Please vote, it's a small gesture, but it makes a difference. And comment on anything that you think I should change or improve.