Hold My Hand - Lashton

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

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Every muscle in his body felt as if it were being crushed into tiny paper balls. All his limbs retracting into his body so he was curled tightly into a ball on his childhood bed.

The pose wasn't foreign. The bed had experienced the same position more than enough times and if it was not inanimate it would have pitied the boy. It would have used it's cushioned fabric to engulf the ever-growing boy and cover his ears so that all sound vanished.

It was rare that Ashton was sensitive to sound, he hadn't been this impacted since he was fourteen when one of his English classes got a little too heated about socialism and capitalism.

He doesn't even remember his reaction but he always remembered his classmates recalling it now and then when the memory resurfaced. How he slid off of his chair and curled up on the dirty floor under the table.

Nobody noticed until the girl sat next to him started screaming, breaking apart the debate, yelling that he was dead. Sometimes Ashton found it funny, but other times he just felt humiliated.

He always took pride in being able to control and manage his bipolar. He liked to be independent, and be the only person who knew when was struggling. If he did experience something like he was experiencing now he liked to do it in the security and darkness of his room.

But his childhood bedroom didn't feel so safe now. There was no lock, unlike his university room. The walls were thin and covered in posters. Posters Ashton loved but they felt overwhelming. He was used to the blank white walls of his accommodation that provided him with something calming to stare at when he did have episodes like this.

And the room was far from silent. He could hear his younger sister on the phone to her friends having innocent conversations. His brothers yelling at his television screen as he lost his game. Downstairs pots and plate were being carelessly moved about making as much noise as the schools marching band.

Ashton was in agony with all the different sounds that were flooding into his room. He could feel the rage building up inside of him. He wanted to scream, to hit something so hard his hand fell off.

He lifted his body off of his bed and stared maliciously at his wall and groaned. He stalked over and began to tear all of the posters off of the wall, ripping shreds of paper off at a time. He didn't care what state the posters were in, he just wanted to see the dirty white paint that was hidden underneath.

After five minutes his floor was covered in shreds of paper, the carpet looked like the inside of a hamsters cave. He ran his finger down the cold hard wall. The pale surface sent images of the blonde boy back into his mind, their hands intertwined and his finger running over his nearly translucent skin.

The curly-haired boy closed his eyes and took a deep breath trying to conjure up a better image of the boy, concentrating as much of his mind on that to rid of the surrounding sound.

Ashton knew it would be a struggle leaving university, he knew he had established a tight and secure schedule that calmed his mania. But he had only been home for a little over twenty-four hours and he didn't think he could live here for another four weeks. With his siblings not at school anymore and his mother taking some time off of work, he knew that he barely got to be alone.

He knew that he had to do something about this. Whilst he couldn't control what other people did, he could control what he did. He knew he had to find somewhere quiet to be for a little while to calm his mind so that he didn't stress out his mother or snap at his siblings. Ashton knew that his bipolar wasn't something that just affected him, it affected everyone.

"Ashton?" his mother called from the door. She had pushed it slightly open, letting a beam of light flood through.

The curly-haired boy opened his eyes but didn't look at his mother. His eyes were still focused on the wall. He could see why the wall had been covered up now, it was dirty and there were dents scattered around.

"We could paint it if you like?" his mother said softly sensing his embarrassment at the sudden burst of emotions.

Ashton nodded and smiled at her. "Just go over it with some white paint," he said with a shrug.

"I think we might still have some. Your brother and sister are out tomorrow so maybe we could do it together?" Ashton nodded again. "Too old for the posters now?" she chuckled.

Ashton laughed too and looked back down at the shreds of band posters that he had torn out of magazines. "I think I've just learnt to live a simpler life," he admitted. "I just need to get used to all of this again."

She sighed and sat down on his bed, she was worried that he would struggle to settle back in and his suspicions were right. "You have to tell us how you're feeling Ashton because we can try and do something to help you."

Ashton sat down beside her and stared out of his window. The position was exactly as he and Luke sat in his bedroom. "Do you remember Luke?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

"Was he the small boy who ran out after seeing us?" she asked, recalling him being the only person she met whilst they visited.

The curly-haired boy nodded but didn't say anything for a while. "He didn't know it, but he helped me. He's never told anyone, not even his parents but he anxiety and I think there's something else wrong. But he won't talk to anyone. I don't want to make that mistake."

His mother gently rubbed his shoulder knowing that he was getting upset. She could tell he cared for this boy, she didn't know it what way and she didn't want to pry. "You didn't talk to any of us for a while. One day he'll be ready, and maybe it's not as soon as you would like but just keep reminding him that you care."

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I've now roughly planned at the whole story and it feels so good that it has fallen into place. I don't think you are ready for what is to come!

Please comment what you think!

Thank you so much for reading!