Worth It {Ash x Eiji}

Kindness

{ Flashback warning! If you've read the Introduction, you already know this book has references to noncon NSFW, violence, death, and other mature themes.

I still try and give a warning, though. Love you all, and enjoy the start of this story! :D

-Soki <3 }

When a white van pulls up to someone, the door slides open, and people jump out, the first instinct the average person has is to run. Run, let their feet hit the sidewalk over and over, and get away at all costs. But what about when it happens twice? Three times? What happens after someone loses count?

The arms around him, throwing him inside the musty back of the van, they became a regular occurrence. And with thin, scrawny limbs... it was exceedingly difficult to get free. His blonde hair was yanked, emerald eyes filled with tears, and no one could help.

Ash was twitching while he was tossed onto the front lawn, narrowly missing the toys that littered it. His breathing was shallow, and he couldn't move. His muscles were stiff from trauma, and he was leaking white liquid from any hole he had. He could taste it, smell it, feel it. It was everywhere, even staining his tattered clothing.

" Ash?"

It was all muffled, everything distorted. How anyone could live like that, Ash didn't know.

Tires screeched down the street, and he was helped to his feet even in spite of his knees trying to give out.

...

Ash shot awake, drenched in sweat and his hand flew toward the nightstand. A pocket knife weighted down his palm as he armed himself, looking around the room frantically. It took a few seconds for him to come down and realize his nightmare. No one was there. There was only a ceiling fan and the smell of food from downstairs.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down. It was time for school, after all. For once, he'd managed to wake up on time, so he wouldn't be strolling into his first period five minutes before its end.

His past, the dark... dark... past. It could be hard to stomach, but as a 17 year old, he was stronger. Ash could fend for himself, and anyone who touched him was sure to have a broken hand or worse. That was just how it was, how he lived. And somehow, he'd come to accept it.

Groaning, Ash rolled out of bed. It creaked and he threw his comforter aside. Time for a shower, and some cleansing of his mental state.

" Ash! Get down here and eat!" Was shouted from downstairs, and by that time, Ash was laying around in his towel, wet and tired. He rolled his eyes.

" Coming, old lady!" He yelled back, clicking his tongue at the end of it. Quickly, he glanced to his curtain to make sure it was shut. Really he'd just tacked a jet black blanket up to the window, wanting to make sure that nobody would see him.

One long sleeved black shirt, some socks, a pair of ripped blue jeans, and a green flannel later... he was dressed. He ran a quick comb through his hair, brushed his teeth, and then went toward the stairs. Walking down them, the smell of bacon and eggs became more strong.

Childish laughter was heard from the kitchen, and Ash yawned while shuffling in.

" Michael, eat your eggs." Jessica told her son, pointing at him. And the boy, who was wearing a red shirt and was sporting a bed head, pouted.

" Hey, Ash, good morning."

Ash pulled out a chair at the dining room table, plopping down and resting his face on the table cloth. He grumbled a response, and a plate was sat down in front of him. The glass clinked and Ash sniffed while sitting up.