Broken Memory ✓

19. Treehouse and Nirvana

"Ash, what happened to you?" Dad asks the moment I walk into the house. My clothes are still soaking wet and my skinny jeans have dozens of prominent mud stains on them.

"Uhh," I mutter. "It rained."

Dad chuckles. "Did you fall or something?"

"Uh, yeah," I laugh. "I'm gonna change, it's kinda cold." I'm shivering at this point and he nods.

"I can wash that for you, just put your clothes into the washer and I can do the rest. I'm gonna add some clothes as well into the load."

"Cool, thanks. Where's Mom?"

"In her room," he lowers his voice. "Try not to let her see ya, just because she'd have a lot of questions."

"Will do," I flash him a thumbs up, then quietly make my way up the stairs and to my room. I shut and lock the door, then head to my dresser and pick out clothes to change into.

After getting changed, I brush out my wildly disheveled hair, then exit my room with the wet clothes and throw them into the washer. Returning back to the living room, I tiredly sit down at one of the couches and sigh in exhaustion. Dad glances at me as I lay down on the couch, sits there for a few seconds, then stands up and walks away. I stay on the couch, too tired to get up, and hear his footsteps approach me. A blanket is draped around me and I snuggle into the warm cloth, my eyes closing as I doze off.

I probably sleep for a couple of hours until I wake to loud footsteps - almost stomps. My eyes flutter open and I feel a headache coming on. I sit up and see Mom walking down here with a scowl on her face. In her hand is my Nirvana album.

Welp, I'm doomed.

"Ashlyn, care to explain why this was in your cupboard?"

"It's an album," I sleepily respond, rubbing my eyes... I'm trying to keep my cool, but anxiety is flaring up in my chest.

"Yeah? Why 'Nirvana'? Hm?"

"They sound pretty cool," shrug.

"Is that a necklace?" Mom gets closer to me and pulls my Nirvana necklace from under my shirt. She must have seen the chain.

"Look, why is me liking Nirvana such a big deal?"

"Because," she inhales deeply. "They're not a good influence. I don't want you to be as rowdy as they are."

"Are you kidding me? It's just music."

"Yeah, rock music. Have you heard some of their songs? You shouldn't be listening to them."

"Shouldn't I be allowed to like the music I like!? It's not like Nirvana is telling me to worship the devil or something like that."

"Subliminal messages, Ashlyn!"

"You're going insane," I laugh, standing up. "Look, give me my album back."

"When did you get it? Huh?" she moves the album out of my reach. "And what about that necklace?"

"Does it matter?"

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Mom," I snap.

"I know you went to that music store with Caleb the other day, is that when you got these?" she gestures to the album and my necklace.

"Okay, that's it," I brush past her and slide my flip flops on. "This is stupid. It's music, not some sacrificial cult like you're making it out to be. I'm going."

"It's getting dark out, Ashlyn. And it's still raining," Mom follows me as I grab a sweatshirt from the closet next to the front door.

"And?"