"Thought I'd let Hogart send me an anon?" He giggled girlishly. "I'm not that dumb."
Her breath was coming in short gasps now, and she found herself nearing a panic attack.
"Mouse." She heard a scuffling of feet as Mouse approached. "Pull her pants down."
"Ziggy, I don't think --"
"Now, Mouse!"
She flinched as she felt cold hands on her hips, unbuckling her jeans and tugging them down. She began to cry again as she tried to focus her mind away from the situation at hand.
Ashley imagined that it was all just a bad trip. She was really on the ceiling, and this was just a side effect.
'On the ceiling.' She muttered rapidly. 'On the ceiling. Not happening.'
Her mantra brought her above it all, and weightless, she drifted above, detached from the horror playing out below her.
She remained expressionless as he began to use her. After all, she wasn't there. It wasn't happening.
She vaguely felt a sharp pain on her shoulder. Her above-self noticed the blood dripping from her collarbone, where the knife had cut a clean line on the curve of her bone. He was smiling at it, admiring his handiwork.
When he had finished, he motioned for Mouse to attend to her. Her above-self left its station and settled back into her body. With her disassociation gone, she suddenly felt every stab of pain between her legs. She whimpered and rolled over, curling into a fetal position, her back to him.
"Get her clothes on and get her the fuck out of here." Ziggy buckled his jeans and winked at her. "Come back anytime."
Mouse shuffled nervously, propping Ashley up against the doorframe as he pulled her jeans up her bruised thighs.
"He-He's really a nice guy." Mouse whispered, buttoning her pants. "He's just kind of touchy. Oh, bad choice of words, eh?"
Ashley nodded to Mouse and tried to push herself up. Using the doorframe as leverage, she managed to stand on her own. Mouse hovered around her, ushering her towards the door.
When she had managed to make it to the front steps, Mouse stopped her.
"Please, Renee - Ashley, whatever - don't tell anyone." He told her somberly; a stark contrast to his previous expression of drug induced paranoia. "He will kill you."
She made no move to respond to him, and she stumbled down the stairs and continued down the street.
A light mist fell on her as she trudged through the darkened streets. Without a clear notion as to where she was going, she walked on. Further along the street, the headlights of a taxi bounced into view. As it came nearer, she flagged it down.
The cab driver did a double take in his rearview mirror when she had seated herself in the dingy cab. She paid him no mind as his eyes surveyed her dishevelled appearance.
Indeed, she was a sight. Her hair was messy and unkempt, falling aimlessly around her swollen face. Her right cheek had swelled and was beginning to bruise a deep purple. The other cheek was red and beginning to turn a shade of green. Her right eye was ringed with a mixture of colors that no amount of concealer could hide. Her light blue shirt had become encrusted with a mixture of tears and blood, the collar clinging to the cut on her collarbone. Her jeans were dingy and the thighs were covered in dirt and the occasional spot of blood. The cab driver debated on whether or not to call the police.
Before he could make up his mind, they had arrived at her destination. She thanked him softly and paid him, not bothering to collect the change.
She fell forward, nearly losing her balance as she stepped out onto the damp grass. The cool grass soaked through her sock, and she realized that she was missing a shoe.
Surveying the driveway, she breathed a sigh of relief at the absence of Joey's car. She saw the light through the kitchen window and the flicker of the TV against the opposite wall.
The foot still wearing a shoe caught on the step and she lurched forward, smacking her head against the glass door. She winced at the pain but was quickly standing again.
The creak of the door brought her eyes up and they immediately welled with tears.
Craig's eyes were wide in disbelief at the sight of her. She began to sob and he pulled her to him, hugging her close to his chest.
"Shit, Ash, what happened?" He whispered, bringing her inside.
She buried her head in his shoulder, crying softly. With one hand around her waist, hugging her to him, he brought the other up to stroke her hair. She gasped for breath between heaving sobs, clinging to his shirt.
Angela came running up behind him and stopped in her tracks at the sight of Ashley.
"Craig, what happened to Ashley?" She asked, debating whether or not to attend to her.
"Nothing, Angie. Don't worry, Ashley's gonna be fine, right, Ash?" He tried to smile at his sister, but couldn't force himself to. "Go watch TV until Joey gets home, okay?"
Angela shrugged, her eyes lingering on Ashley, before she turned and retreated to the living room.
Ashley slumped against Craig's shoulder, resigning herself to small sobs every few breaths.
"Ash, what happened? You have to tell me what happened." He said softly, trying to get her to move towards a couch, a bed, anything.
"He-He raped me, Craig." She broke into new sobs and brought herself closer to him. "I wanted some K and Jay said --"
"Jay raped you?" Craig interrupted; his face contorted with rage.
"N-No. It was a dealer.." She gasped for breath. "Craig, my parents can't find out. They can't know I went to a dealer."
"Ash, the dealer raped you. You could get a disease or get pregnant. You need to go to a hospital." Craig pleaded with her, but she shook her head firmly.
"I can't." She repeated, tears streaming down her swollen cheeks. "I can't. He'll kill me."
A swing of headlights shone through the window.
"Shit, Joey." Craig muttered. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."
He led her to the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind them. He turned the knobs on the shower, a quick steam filling the air.
"Just get in with your clothes on. They're pretty dirty anyway." He ran his hand over the blood crusted on her collarbone, pulling back as she winced. "That's a cut?"
She nodded and tried to pull the shirt off the wound, but grimaced in pain as the scabs pulled.
"Let the shower loosen it up, then take your shirt off." He turned as he heard the front door shut. "I'll be back in with some clothes in a minute. I gotta deal with Joey first."
He sighed and moved around her, leaving. She wrapped her arms around herself, surprised to find that she was shaky. Pulling off her lone shoe, she stepped into the stream, sucking in a breath as the hot water soaked through her clothes.
She felt twenty pounds heavier as her jeans sagged down, pulled by the weight of the water. She wriggled her toes, watching the brown water seep from beneath them. She slid her jeans down, trying not to look at the blood spots in the crotch. The brick red stream flowed from them.
She could vaguely hear Joey and Craig arguing. At least, she thought they were arguing. She tried to focus on their words.
"Just call Kate and tell her that she's here." She heard Craig say. "I think she's gonna crash here."
"Craig, I can't just call her mom and tell her that without some kind of reason!" Her heart dropped as she wondered what exactly Craig had told Joey.
"You want to tell her mom what happened? You can't do that, Joey!" Craig was yelling now.
"This is a big deal! If she doesn't get help, it could really mess her up." Joey's voice remained calm.
"She's already messed up, Joey! He was a drug dealer -- why do you think she went to him?" She recognized the desperation in his voice -- he was pleading with Joey not to tell on her.
Somewhere, beneath the pain, fear, and shame, she felt warm. He was defending her. Protecting her. Her knight in shining armor, come to make everything better.
She peeled off her shirt, wincing as the scab pulled free. She felt the blood washing down her chest as the wound was reopened. Her white bra was soon a pale pink. She sat down at the back of the fiberglass tub, pulling her legs to her chest. She rested her head on her knees, her matted hair wetting to her forehead.
She heard the door open, but didn't bother to lift her head.
"Ash?" Craig's voice broke through the steam. "There's a shirt and some pants on the counter."
She heard the rustle as he lay them down. His feet shuffled, and he sighed.
"Joey is calling your mom." He hesitated before continuing. "I think he's going to tell her. I tried to tell him not to, but I guess, in a way, he's right." He sighed again. "She should know."
She could picture him running his hand through his hair, like he always did when he was stressed out.
"I flushed the bag you left at the park that day." He said softly.
The door clicked shut as he stepped out, leaving her alone once more.
She was surprised to find that she didn't care that he had flushed the last of her stash. In some part of her, she knew he had done the right thing, while the other was screaming that if she had had that baggy, she wouldn't have gone to see Ziggy Stardust.
She stood and washed her hair, scrubbing her legs and stomach nearly raw with the luffa. She almost admired the swollen redness, realizing that it was probably as clean as she would ever feel again.
After she had dried herself off, she slipped into the clothes Craig had provided. An old Led Zeppelin concert tee and a worn pair of plaid pajama pants. They fit loosely around her thin frame, the pants sagging just under her hips.
As she quietly stepped out of the bathroom, she could hear her mother and Joey's voices. Silently, she crept towards Craig's bedroom -- she did want a confrontation with her mother right now. She just wanted to crawl into a bed and sleep the entire evening from her mind.
His door was open, and she could hear a Radiohead album playing softly. She was surprised to find him not in his bed, but also relieved. His bed was unmade, but she didn't mind. She crawled underneath his comforter and rolled onto her side, facing the wall.
She was drifting off when she felt a pressure on the side of the bed. She turned, seeing Craig leaning over the bed.
"Don't worry, I'm just grabbing my pillow." He smiled at her. "Your mom left awhile ago. She said you could crash here for the night."
He got up to leave, but she reached out for his wrist, stopping him.
"Stay." She pulled him down. "Don't leave me."
A flash of excitement danced across his features, but it was gone before she could catch it.
"You sure?" He asked hesitantly.
"Yea. I don't want to be alone." She said softly.
He shrugged and crawled under the covers, trying to chase the awkwardness of the situation from his mind. He turned away from her, but she reached for his shoulders and pulled him over. She laid her head down on his chest, in what could almost be called cuddling if it weren't for the circumstances.
He nervously brought an arm around her shoulders, holding her. He had to remind himself that this was nothing like what it used to be -- there was no sexual connotation to this. He was soon nodding off, his mind abuzz.
"Craig?" Her voice was fragile; he wondered if she had been crying.
"Unh, yea?" He replied groggily, blinking rapidly, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes.
"I'm sorry."
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Author's Note: Thank you to all the loyal readers. It pains me to be asking for reviews like this, but I am very proud of this story, and would very much like to know what you all think of it! Please, give me your opinions! Constructive criticism is what drives the modern writer, and praise just pushes us on to make it better.
So please, be a good reader, and review.