~Ashton~

"Ash," Kaylie cries running into my outstretched arms.

"Hey, little one." I smile as I rub up and down her spine.

She pulls away. "Where's your friend?"

"Sabina? She's not my friend. Now where's Mom?"

"Why isn't she your friend?" Kaylie pouts. "I told you she's a really nice girl."

I suck in my cheeks frustrated. "Some people just don't go along with each other, ok? Now again, where's Mom?"

Kaylie huffs. "She's in the shower. She's been in there for a while already come to think of it."

"How long?"

"An hour."

"Kaylie." I shake my head. "She could be..." I don't finish rebuking her, instead, I run to the bathroom. Heart pounding.

"Mom!" I begin to bang on the chipped door.

"I don't think she locked it."

I glance back at Kaylie who's watching me through fearful eyes.

The door creaks on its hindges as I push it open. Please, Mom, don't be dead.

I find her slumped over the sink, the water still trickling.

"Mom," I whisper, touching her lightly on the shoulder.

She's unresponsive, which frightens me.

"Mom," I choke, pulling her away from the sink and lying her down on the tiled floor.

I gingerly press my fingers to her neck, relieved to find a pulse. Yes, it's faint, but it's still there and that's all that matters.

"Kaylie."

She appears in the doorway, eyes wide. "Is she...?"

"Unconcious," I tell her. "I need you to get the green pills from her nightstand."

She nods, backing out of the room.

"And Kaylie."

"Yeah?"

"Bring a glass of water too."

Two minutes later, I get down to work by first forcing Mom's mouth open and placing the small capsule inside.

"Swallow," I encourage her, clamping her mouth closed.

Nothing happens.

"Oh come on Mom, just swallow the damn pill," I cry, pressing down on her jaw and nose. "Please," I add, as a tear rolls down my cheek.

"Should I call Dr. Mark?"

I look over at Kaylie. "No. I just need you to pass me the glass of water."

She does. I quickly open Mom's mouth and pour some water inside. "You have to swallow. You must. Now do it!"

I watch her carefully, my body tensed. I can't lose her, at least not yet. Kaylie still needs her, more than me.

That's when she coughs, her pale blue eyes flying open and focusing on me. "Ashton, is that you?" She croaks.

"Drink," is all I say as I bring the glass to her chapped lips. Once she's done chugging it down, I ask, "What happened?"

"I-I-I don't know."

"How do you not know? Mom, you almost died," I say frustrated.

"Maybe the poison is getting to me for the good," she weakly responds.

I don't want to hear anymore. "Just take your pills, ok," I tell her, forcing the pill bottle into her small, bony hand. I then lean in close and whisper into her ear. "If you dare not take those pills again and die on Kaylie, I can swear to you that I'll come after you in the afterlife."

She doesn't say anything as I stand up on stiff legs and stroll out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My knuckles are bloody, but I don't care. I punch at the punching bag continuously, making my skin split even more.

Punch to Dad leaving us - punch to Ivy attacking my mom - punch to Mom not taking her pills - punch to this stupid, pathetic life.

Now my hands are covered in blood, a mess, to compare to my life. Good.

That's when I sense someone watching me. Turning around, I see Sabina hovering in the doorway.

"Go away, Princess." I glower at her.

She doesn't even move a finger. "How long have you been here?" She asks softly.

I turn back to the punching bag, frustrated. "Three hours or so."

Her footsteps reverberate across the room. I ignore them as I continue to let my anger out at the freakin punching bag.

"I think that's enough," she says, taking hold of my arm and stopping me mid-punch.

"Why? Why won't you leave me alone?" I meet her eyes, angry. Super angry.

"What I should watch you cause damage to yourself," she sharply responds. "I mean your hands..."

I look down at them, watching the blood trickle off my fingers onto the floor below. Drip, drip, drop. "I, uh." A lump forms in my throat and my eyes brim over with tears.

"What happened?"

I am surprised when she begins to wipe my hands with her own tee.

I observe her through blurred eyes standing before me in her tank top and jeans, a strand of dark hair falling into her eyes. She smiles at me—a weak smile. "You're crying Ashton, and you don't seem to be much of a crybaby to me. Is everything alright?"

Her kindness is going to be the death of me. Sometimes the kind people are the ones you pour your heart out to. "I guess you could say I hate my life. I mean my dad left us to fend for ourselves and well Mom won't take her meds..."

"You think you have it hard," she interrupts, upset. And there goes the kind girl back to bratty princess mode. "I never got to know my father. He died when I was a baby. And my mom, I watched her being dragged from our home and beaten in the streets before being carted off to prison for helping an Inhuman. I have no family left, so don't you dare hate your life, cause you got plenty to love."

I stare at her and her bloodstained shirt which she ruined because of me. Speechless.

Pulling my wounded hands away from her, I go back to punching the bag; reopening the cuts.

"Ashton, stop it!" Sabina cries, grasping hold once again of my hands and pulling me away from the punching bag. "Why do you have to be so thick-headed?" That's when I notice the tears in her eyes. "Did you listen to anything I just told you?"

I nod slowly.

"And do you see me hurting myself because of my horrible life?"

I now shake my head, no.

"Then why are you doing it?" She whispers, a lone tear rolling down her pink cheek.

I huff. "Because I'm allowed to hate my life, Sabina. I'm allowed to be angry. And I'm allowed to punch a punching bag for as long as I want to."

I attempt to pull my hands away from hers once again, but I have to say, she does have a good grip.

So we stand her, hands clasped together, tears staining our cheeks, and blurry eyes locked on each other.

"Ashton?"

"Yes, Princess."

Her voice is barely audible as she wipes away a shmear of blood off my knuckles. "Promise me that you'll stop hurting yourself, please."

I break our gaze, looking down at our linked hands instead. "I promise that I'll try my hardest not to."

She startles me by letting go of my hands at last and taking a step back. "Good," is all she says.

I don't know why I do it. I guess maybe it's because we are both hurting.

"Sabina," I say, now being the one to take hold of her small hand.

She looks at me surprised when I pull her closer to me and press my lips to her soft, tender ones.

I expect her to pull away since she most likely doesn't want this, us taking comfort in each other because we felt pain, loss, and hopelessness. But she doesn't. Instead, her arms wrap around my neck and her mouth moves along with mine, deepening our kiss.