Ash & Dust

5| She Was Hurt

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ASH
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Walking down the street, I kept the brown paper bag that held the modest amount of groceries I'd bought tucked against my body with one hand as I neared my apartment complex. The slighly rundown buildings were just a few blocks away from the local supermarket, which worked in my favor considering how often I needed to restock on food.

Using my free hand, I reached into my jean pocket and pulled out my keychain, easily finding the key to my front door. Balancing the bag on my leg, I was about to put the key inside the lock when I noticed something.

The door was open.

I was never that careless.

Stepping back, I placed the bag on the ground and reached into my left combat boot, pulling out the pocket knife I carried with me everywhere. Flipping it open, I looked at my surroundings first, to make sure no one sketchy was watching, and then I peered through the crack to see inside.

Shit, it's too dark.

Unfortunately, I couldn't make out much, considering my curtains blocked out any natural light from illumunating the small place, so I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Immediately, I felt my heart quiver when I saw the current state of my home. Growing up in a whorehouse, I was constantly subjected to dirt, chaos, and a whole lot of other shit not for the faint of heart. The house was always a mess, which was why I prided myself in mine not being that way. And yet, now, looking at my home, it felt like I was right back in that house, surrounded by sex debris and unconscious, abused women.

You're not there anymore. You got out.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes for a split second to remove that image, or rather, memory from my mind before coming back to reality. Someone broke into my home and clearly went searching through every drawer, cabinet, and dresser I owned. They even went as far as to throw my sofa cushions off the couch and check under there, and that had me pissed off as well as anxious. I came from nothing and worked hard to have even the little that I did. For someone to have the gall to take it from me, well, they had better be ready for a fight.

Ignoring the sweat growing in the palm of my hand, I gripped the knife tighter and proceeded down the hall that led to the only other rooms in the small apartment. The bathroom, and my bedroom. After making sure no one was in the former, I took a deep breath, counted to three in my head, and rushed into the room, nearly falling when I saw who was in there.

"Jesus, Mom!" I shouted, running a stressed hand through my short brown hair as I paced over to her. "You fucking scared me! What are you doing here?!"

She was crouched on the floor, leaning onto the foot of my bed with her eyes fluttering between opened and closed. Her limp brown hair stuck to her neck and fanned out onto the light grey sheets as she hummed an unintelligible response back to me.

"Mmrrmrm," she mumbled, slowly sliding down to the floor as she tried to wave me away.

Leaning down to her level, I rubbed her head, all while ignoring the fact that my room looked like a tornado hit it. "Mom, talk to me. What are you doing here?"

Her head kept drooping forward as she muttered something in russian. It was far too slurred for me to understand, with what little knowledge of her mother tongue that I had. It didn't help that she was clearly high. Cradling her face in my hands, I tapped her cheeks lightly, trying to get her to focus.

"Mom, can you hear me? It's me."

Blinking a few times to clear her vision, I let out a breath of relief when a lazy smile grew on her lips and she said, "Ashley. Hi, baby. I'm glad you're here."