Bad At Love | Halsey

Denial

One month of living together has finally gotten her to officially move in. It didn't really make sense to be living apart—she was here all day everyday anyway. Thanks to things finally calming down, I can work again. My writing had suffered so much from this whole ordeal, but now, I can write freely. Ash has also started making music again. Things are falling into place. It's just like one of my stories. But this would be where I'd throw in a twist. Things seem good. Too good.

"Ash?" I call as I make some tea.

"What?" she asks, poking her head around the corner. Her blue hair is done in a braid down her shoulder today.

"I made tea," I say, putting a mug on the table before adding some more hot water to my own mug.

"Thanks," she says, sitting down. Her black eye has mostly disappeared, and she's been regaining her healthy glow. But today, it's a bit dull.

"You're welcome," I reply, putting down the kettle and taking my mug to sit down.

For the first time, I notice something. Her sleeve is lifted slightly, and I notice something that looks like a bruise on her wrist.

"What's that?" I ask, reaching forward. Her eyes widen slightly, and she pulls her hands back before hiding them under the table. "Ash."

"I hit my arm," she says, but she's obviously lying.

Have I been that head over heels that I didn't notice anything? She'd been a bit distant recently, but I thought that was because she was writing again. Maybe not.

"What's going on?" I ask. Here's that twist. Hooray. 

"Nothing. I just hit my arm."

So that's why she's been refusing to shower together or do anything remotely sexual.

"Bullshit." I say, standing up and going over to her. I get on my knees in front of her and grab her hand, careful not to touch her wrist. She tries to resist, but I lift up her sleeve. My breath catches in my throat. Her wrist is a dark blue, the skin discolored and painful-looking.

"Did he do this to you?" I demand, looking up at her face. She's about to cry. My heart clenches.

"No."

"You're lying," I hiss, and she bites her lip.

"It wasn't him," she insists.

"Then who the fuck was it?"

"I don't know," she says, and it takes me a moment to figure out what she's saying.

"What, are you saying someone...hurt you?" I ask slowly, and she doesn't meet my eyes. "Ashley."

"Yeah," she finally says, and I let out a breath.

"When?"

"Three days ago," she mumbles, and I bite my lip.

"I'm calling the police."

"There's nothing to say. I'm fine," she says, and I drop her hands and stand up.

"Ashley. If you're really telling me the truth, then this is attempted rape," I snap, feeling mad at her. Grant. Everything and everyone. "Or hell, was it a success?"

"No. It wasn't rape. Or attempted rape," she says, and my heart beats rapidly in my chest.

"What are you saying?" I'm so confused right now.

"It's complicated," she says, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach.

I don't want to ask her if she cheated. I don't want to believe that. But the way she's talking, what else would it be?

"What's complicated?" I finally ask.

"I don't know how to say this," she says, and I let out a breath. My heart is beating a mile a minute. I feel sick to my stomach.

"Just say it," I tell her.

"I love you—" she begins, but I stand up abruptly. I don't want to hear this. I don't want to get hurt. But that's Ashley. She leaves a trail of casualties behind her.

"Save it."

"But—"

"Do you really love me?" I ask, and she looks down. "That's what I thought," I say bitterly. "What, you just needed a quick fuck? Is that it?"

"Lauren, please, just listen to me—"

But I don't. I walk out of the room. I don't want to hear it because I know it's going to hurt me. I don't want it to be real. When she says it, there's no way to deny it. And I'm scared. 

A/N

sorry for not updating in forever!! again