-ASH-
"Jesus Christ, Ashton. How did you get this?" Mr Roger almost screams, so the customers turn their heads to us.
Well, I couldn't do anything to hide my black eye, or my bloody nose and bottom lip. Shit. This is how I feel and how I look.
I'm trying to act like it doesn't bother me, but it still hurts.
"We have to take you to the hospital." Mr Roger says as he's still checking my face.
"No. I'll be fine." I say but I can't help groaning to the pain.
"Fine? Ashton, have you looked at your face? Because it's not fine at all."
I try to convince him that everything's alright, but after the library goes all empty, he grabs my hand and gets me to his car.
"Yes Daria. I'm taking him to the hospital ... No I don't know what happened." he says to his phone. He sounds nervous. Ms Daria's voice sounds so sad. I didn't mean to worry them.
::
There's an awkward silence during the car ride, until he decides it to break it.
"I'm very concerned about this situation Ashton. I want this to stop." he says as if it's all my damn fault.
"Don't you think that I want the same?" I ask him furiously.
"Well, you always say that and you always get yourself in trouble." he says all serious.
"I'm being honest to you sir. It wasn't my fault." I say and turn my head back to the car window.
"You're telling me that just a random stranger came and hit you like that?"
"Well, I don't know the guy and I'll keep it that way. He just got mad because ... I k-kissed his girl." I say quietly.
There's a small pause between us.
"I don't know Ashton. Maybe we could take you to see a therapist or something." he says and sighs.
"A what? I'm not sick. Why would you do that? You don't trust me, right?" I whimper.
He doesn't respond and takes another sigh.
"I just want the best for you. Both Daria and I." he looks straight in my eyes which causes me chills. "Let's go to the hospital for now." he says as he stops the car in the hospital's parking lot.
As we both step in the building, I feel terribly anxious. I feel cold sweat dropping on my forehead. I also notice patients with such problems worse than mine.
Mr Roger seems to know exactly where we should go, and he finally knocks a door until a middle-aged man -- maybe a bit older than Mr Roger -- shows up.
"Roger? Oh my God. It's been so long." the doctor says cheerfully and grabs him in his tight embrace.
"I know Pete. So long. But, I'm here for Ashton." he says and points at me.
I swallow the lump in my throat and crack my knuckles.
"Sit down young man. Seems you've been in a lot of trouble. I didn't know you had a son Roger." he says and makes me feel like I have butterflies in my stomach.
"No. He's not my son. But, I care about him like a son." he says smiling, causing me a stupid grin on my torn lips, as I make myself comfortable on the patient's bed.
I like the way he said that. I think.
I try not to think about the pain, but I keep wincing as he's touching my face.
