Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 32

Warning: Shit is about to go down.

 Ashton rolls over to face me, groaning. Sleep drains from his body. He haphazardly drapes his arm over my hip, pulling me into him. I have been awake for about thirty minutes, and I had to pee, but I was too afraid to go to the bathroom, knowing his father was down stairs. My face is squished into his chest. “Ash, please don’t,” I beg him. I really don’t feel like peeing on my boyfriend right now.

 “Cuddle with me.”

 “Ashton, really, don’t-”

 “Ugh,” he whines, as I slip out from under him.

 “Sorry, but now is not the time.”

 “Why not?” He sits up, shuffling his hair around on his head. I roll off of the piece of furniture, trying to sort out my hair as well.

 “I really need to use the bathroom,” I tell him the truth.

 “So go and come back.”

 “You and I both know there is no way in hell I am going out there alone,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

 He groans again, flopping his limbs across the entire mattress. “Why?”

 “I told you last night he scares me, and I prefer not to be raped or-”

 “Fine,” he says, not wanting to hear my long explanation about how I am afraid of his dad. He climbs out of bed, fixing his flannel pants on his hips. He grabs his glasses from the nightstand, and he hands me mine. “Let’s go, but when we get back, we’re cuddling,” he huffs.

 I put them over my eyes, looking around for a second while my eyes adjust. “Agreed,” I say. I follow him out the door and down the hall. He flips the light outside the bathroom on and gestures for me to go in. He closes the door behind me, waiting outside patiently. I use the toilet, brush my teeth, and I comb my fingers through my hair. I finish, going back out to meet him, but he isn’t there. “Ash?” I whisper, looking around.

 I hear a bang from downstairs, and Ashton shouting, “Get the hell away from her!”

 I rush down the stairs after the sound of a scream. “Don’t talk to me like that you little shit!”

 Tears fall at the sight of Ashton on the floor, clutching his stomach. I freeze on the last step of the staircase. His father takes Caroline’s wrist in one hand, crushing it. Her face is twisted and contorted, displaying the excruciating pain she is experiencing. He opens a door, tossing her into a small empty closet like she is a rag doll. Phoebe stands straight with her back to a wall, arms by her sides. He slaps her, but she keeps a brave face. When he doesn’t get a reaction he turns away from her. He catches me watching, and the veins in his neck make an appearance. “You will pay for spying!” he growls, coming after me.

 I don’t move in time, and I collapse to the ground in a ball. “Don’t you dare touch her!” Ashton roars, shoving him. His father loses his footing, falling to the ground.

 “I suggest you run,” he hisses at Ashton.

 “Same to you, you asshole,” he spits back. Ashton kicks him in the shin, and I stand, pulling him back.

 “Daddy!” Phoebe gasps, running for her father. He shoves her off. He stands, pushing his son into a wall. Ashton takes many blows to the stomach and face, and I sit there, sobbing, unable to help him. His glasses are crunching under the man’s feet, as he is stepping on them again and again while he hits his son. I grab Phoebe, hiding her behind me.

 Their dad comes at me, reaching for my wrist. I snatch it away, but he yanks me to the ground. He moves past me to the front door, rushing out. It slams behind him, and we all sit in silence until we hear the car engine rev. I get up, moving toward the closet. I open it, letting Caroline out. She caresses her wrist, and I wrap her in a hug, even though I do not know her well.