Innocence: Lost

Chapter Thirty

The sounds of Ashton's car were normally relaxing. Today, they made the ride longer. Lars' deep breathing was agonizing. It made Ashton want to pull over and punch him. There was a handgun in his lap. Jack's initials were carved into it. That also made Ashton want to pull over. He didn't want to speak to the man beside him. He just kept staring out past the cliffs. 

Maybe Ashton would jump. That would be fun, and it would put an end to the whole situation. Better yet, he could drive off and that would upset Jack. Lars was a valued member. 

But there was always Luke.

It sucked, love. To have someone with such a pull on you. Ashton never knew right from wrong, but Luke made him understand things. Luke was the light missing from the world. Ashton wished he would have never hurt his angel.

The gun seemed to vibrate in his lap. It was so haunting. He was on the way to kill Michael, but Michael had done nothing wrong. Ashton was going to kill someone out of cold blood. 

As a nervous habit, he played with the lock on the gun.

+

Michael's house reminded him of Luke's. It was pretty close to it. Ashton fought the urge to drive down the road and see him. He missed his soft skin and that pretty smile. He shook the thoughts away and stared nervously at the gun. Ashton shut the car off, but he never took his eyes off the gun. 

"Well, Irwin, let's do this," Lars' voice rasped. Ashton scoffed. 

The gun collected fingerprints. It was so shiny, and it had a marble clutch. Ashton found it ironic that such a beautiful item could cause so many hideous things. The gun fit perfectly in his hand. It made him feel worse about himself. If Luke were with him, he would have made him brownies and kissed his neck. Ashton couldn't find the courage to go through with this.

He knocked on Michael's door and stared at his feet. Lars was right behind him. Michael's porch was occupied by a sleeping cat and two rocking chairs. Ashton couldn't imagine what the Cliffords were like, or rather, what they would be like when he killed their son.

Michael opened the door. His hair was a wreck, and his eyes looked tired. 

"What the hell are you doing at my house with...some middle-aged biker?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. Lars shot Michael a glare. 

Ashton took a long look at the huge house he stepped foot in. Everything had a white marble finish, just like the gun's clutch. Michael told Ashton to have a seat on the couch. Lars sat close beside him. 

"Must you be up my ass?!" Ashton hissed quietly when Michael went to go make tea. 

In the last hour of Michael's life, he forgave Ashton. In his mind, they were speaking about getting the money back to Luke. Ashton told Michael that he did what he was asked to do. He talked to Jack. They spoke of times with Calum, all of the funny stories. 

Ashton had forgotten about Lars, the mission, and that the gun was not on safety. 

"I never knew that you knew Calum before," Ashton laughed. He gripped his stomach. 

"Not as long as I have known Lu, but yeah. Cal and I have a history," Michael sipped his tea. Ashton didn't take him for a tea guy, but it suited him after a while. His eyes were a friendly green. He was no longer a threat. 

"So, what is it that Jack asked you to do?" Michael asked and looked at Ashton, and in that instant, Ashton remembered. He cleared his throat. In his peripheral vision, Lars was smirking.

"Oh, um, nothing," Ashton smiled softly. Lars kept messing with Ashton. He was urging him to just shoot. Ashton tried to shove him off. 

"No, tell me!" Michael laughed, "That gun kind of scared me." 

Ashton kept trying to keep Lars off, but all at once, the buff man hit him too hard. Michael furrowed his brows in confusion. Ashton tried to respond. He tried to do many things, but the wrong hand reacted. Ashton had accidentally fired. A clean bullet went through Michael's heart. 

"Oh," Michael gave Ashton the softest, saddest, and most sincere look anyone had ever given him. A small patch of blood stained Michael's white t-shirt. He fell forward.

Ashton couldn't even react fast enough. He stared at the gun, then his hand, then Michael, then Lars. He closed his eyes and put the gun in his lap.

"He...I didn't..." Ashton tried. 

"But, you did," Lars shrugged. 

+

Ashton felt empty. He stared at the ocean. Jack just dumped Michael's body right into it. Ashton knew the cops would find it one day, but it still bothered him that Michael wouldn't even have a real funeral. What had he done?

The check sat in his lap, but Michael's lifeless body drifted down somewhere. Monterey had beautiful oceans, but Ashton grew to hate them after that day. At least he could pay Luke back.

It didn't mean anything, but if he could tell Luke the truth himself, then maybe they could get through this. Maybe he wouldn't hate him. Ashton put the car in reverse and started to drive towards Luke's house. He needed to see him. 

The drive back was the start of many lonely and silent pauses. Ashton's whole life was on pause. 

Ashton pulled into Luke's driveway and furrowed his brows when he saw a familiar car. It was a car he had only recognized at parties. Then, he saw a familiar mop of brown hair.

Mitchy. 

"Ash? Thank god you're here..."  Mitchy knocked on his window, "Somebody killed Cal's old boyfriend!"