Hey guys, so here comes an angsty, dramatic romance. Pairing Spashley, of course. In summary, Ashley is sent to a Christian "guidance" program, where she meets an ex-gay Spencer. The story will be consistently in Ashley's POV. It's AU... rating is for language and some sexuality... and that's about it!
Chapter One
"I don't want to do this."
It's amazing that desire has almost no weight in this world. I don't want to do this, but that means nothing to anyone but myself. As far as everyone around me in concerned, it's what I want that is the problem.
"Follow me, Ms. Davies." I don't want to follow. I want to run the other way. Is it pathetic that I'm scared? Because I am. I'm terrified. I follow the well-dressed man down a long hall, pulling a suitcase, refusing to look back at my mother. If I had, I'm sure I would have seen only her back as she walked away from her greatest disappointment.
The man opens a door, leading me inside, and he adjusts his tie neurotically. Hands always tugging at the noose, fixing it just tight enough. "This will be your room," he informs me, and I set my suitcase down.
"I guessed that," I retort, wincing at the angry acid burning through me. He is expressionless, watching me, analyzing me. I feel sick, and I thump down on the bed. "Anything else?" I snap, and he smiles, sardonically, and fixes that damn tie.
"I have to go over your responsibilities," he replies, and I roll my eyes.
"Planning on doing it soon?"
He ignores my tone, which only fuels my anger, and responds calmly. "You must participate in all group activities and program meetings, and must attend all evening meals. There is a cleaning schedule as well, to ensure the house is kept clean."
"Why the fuck should I clean this shit hole? I didn't ask to come here," I spit at him. "Clean it yourself. This isn't my home."
His eyes flash with annoyance, but he presses on. "Miss Davies, you didn't ask to come here, but God called you to us."
I can't deal with this. I just can't. I squeeze my eyes shut tight. "Not my God. My God didn't call me here. Your God hates me. My God doesn't."
"He doesn't hate you, Ashley." Great, first name basis now. I clench my fists at my side. "He wants to help you.."
I let a silence pass, then I glare up at him. "This is my home now?"
He nods his head.
"Then get the fuck out of my room."
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I think it's been hours. I'm still lying on this bed, staring at the ceiling, finding pictures in the stucco. Maybe I can find an escape there, but I don't think so. I think I'm stuck in this goddamn place. I really don't know how I can get out of this. I rub my hands over my eyes, suddenly unable to breathe. Whatever happens, I won't let them get to me. I'm above this shit. They won't change me.
"Miss Davies. It's time for dinner." It's a new guy, younger, dressed in a simple white polo and black pants, the little insignia stitched on his shirt pocket indicating that he is an employee of this hell.
"Not hungry."
"You have to attend evening meals," he informs me.
I don't care. Whatever they want. Dinner is too little to fight over, so I get up and follow him. This place has too many halls, it makes me feel tiny and lost and now I'm even more disillusioned than before. After we traipse through this freaking maze for awhile, both of us silent, he leads me into a long dining are boys and girls seated at the tables, all chatting politely with each other and eating what smells like a steaming pile of shit. I wrinkle my nose as I take in the poorly constructed meal, their dull, ugly uniforms (all crisp, white collared shirts, black pants for the boys and pleated skirts for the girls) and the general atmosphere. I follow my guide to an empty seat, and he points out where to get my food, though says he'll bring it to me for today. When he finally leaves me alone, I slump over my meal, glaring at it. It looks disgusting.
"What's your name?" A girl across from me smiles politely. I barely glance at her. She's not hot. I'm not interested.
"Ashley," I mutter, and eat just so I won't have to talk.
"I'm Rebecca. It's so nice to meet you."
Bitch. Leave me the fuck alone. "Yeah, you too." I shove more food in my mouth. Take a hint, take a hint, I plead silently. I don't want to speak to anyone. I don't want to be involved here.
"Did you just arrive today?" I nod, turning away slightly, but she rambles on. "You're going to love it here. Believe me, you'll be so relieved to finally find some guidance."
My eyes shoot back to hers. "I don't need guidance."
She smiles that same twisted, knowing smile that everyone here seems to sport. "That is how you feel now," she replies in a singsong voice, and giggles. "You'll see the truth soon."
"Oh, fuck right off," I snarl, my temper snapping, and I jump to my feet, slamming my fists down on the table. "I don't need any of your fucking guidance, got it? Now leave me alone." I sit back down harshly, ignoring the looks of surprise from those around me. But I don't fucking care. I've had enough of this place. Someone slides into the seat next to me, but I barely take notice, so busy am I still glaring at Rebecca.
"I think you do-" Rebecca begins, but a voice interrupts.
"Rebecca, leave her alone, okay? She doesn't want to hear it." My eyes flick over to see just who my saviour is, and I feel myself dying. It's terrible to say, but I don't think I believed in beauty until right now, but she's smiling at me with her hair perfectly in her beautiful blue eyes, her teeth white and her lips soft and inviting and just like this, here, in this moment, I'm captured by this girl. "Are you okay?" she asks me, her voice so quiet that I'm soothed. She continues, "I remember my first day. It's pretty overwhelming."
I can't speak to her. I just stare at her, and it feels like I'm seeing my whole life ahead of me for the first time. She frowns slightly, confused, because I'm not answering her, I'm too busy drowning in everything.
I wonder how confused she must look when I rise and bolt from the table. But I'm too busy running to turn back and see.
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They let it go, since it was my first day, but it was made very clear that, from then on, I was to remain at the dinner table during dinner. That made me laugh. What a ridiculous concept, that I am forced to sit and eat if I don't want to. Huddled in my bed, face pressed tightly against the pillow, I shiver, though it's really quite warm out. Another man came by the room, one I didn't recognize again. I wonder if I'll ever see the same face twice. He told me that curfew was at ten o'clock.
I screamed at him for that. Ten fucking o'clock? That was crap. It was bullshit. He ignored me and left.
I glance at the clock. Eleven. This is fucking hell. They have me locked in this room all night. I've never gone to sleep before at least two a day in my life. I guess I'll just be sitting here doing nothing. I tried playing guitar, but it was too loud, they said, and threatened to take it away if I wasn't quiet. I climb out of my bed, feet grazing the floor. I feel dizzy from lying down for so long, but once I regain my balance, I slip over to the window, opening it all the way. It's raining, and I don't mean drizzle. I mean dark clouds, still air, drenching buckets of rain. Just the way I like it. It's perfect. Swinging my legs over the windowsill, I drop onto the soft ground, pulling my guitar after me, not caring if the rain ruins it.
I had every intention of returning to my room after playing a song or two under this big tree across the yard. But as I sat there in the rain, playing my heart out, feeling peaceful and content, I suddenly found myself unable to return to the prison that was my new home. Which brings me here, walking, not sure where but I'm taking charge, I'm getting out of here. I don't need the "guidance" this place is forcing on me. I know who I am. They think they can make me like boys? They can't. And I won't have them trying.
"Hey."
The voice is so quiet that I don't really hear it over the rain. "Hey," it says again, and I stop walking, glancing at the open window beside me. And she's there, the girl, the most beautiful girl, leaning out her window and smiling at me sweetly. "Where are you going?"
"I don't know." I didn't think my voice would be so broken, but it is, and I flinch slightly at the despondency in peers at me, eyes so painfully blue. I look away.
"Why are you crying?" she asks me.
I reach up to touch my cheek. I hadn't noticed the tears in the midst of the rain. "I wasn't aware that I was," I tell her, unable to be anything but honest in the face of her perfection.
"They won't like that you're walking around."
"I know." I'm staring again, I can't help it. She pushes her window up higher.
"Come in," she says, lightly, as if it's no big deal, as if I'm not being asked into paradise. I freeze, and she smiles at me, gently. "You aren't going to run away from me again, are you?"
Now I'm blushing and melting under her teasing gaze and the memory of my panic attack. "Come in," she repeats, and I step forward, then back.
"I'll get you in trouble," I warn her.
"I don't mind."
"I do. I… I should go." I wring my hands, anxious, and take another step back. "I really should go."
"It's Ashley, right?" She catches me off guard, but I nod, wordlessly. "I'm Spencer."
"Spencer," I murmur softly, and I smile at her, a genuine smile, one that only she can earn.
"And I really hope you don't go too far." Her eyes catch mine, smile into mine, and then she closes her window gently, drawing the curtain.
I find myself back in my room, not knowing how I got there, only knowing that I can't leave hell if an angel tells me to stay.