Hey people )
I just wanted to tell all of you that English is almost my third language, so any mistakes you'll find are because of that )

Stone's throw

I am stupidly wishing that I am somewhere cold, somewhere where my breath will create cold smoke as I'm letting my breath release from inside me. At least then I would have something to focus on, something to occupy the pounding of the veins inside my brain, the pounding of my heart as it ferociously pumps the blood up to my head. Instead I'm sitting on some steps, not even a cold breeze gracing my burning skin, helping me cool down.

I didn't get far.

Half a mile, or probably less, is how far away from the car, and the Carlin household, that I managed to run. I wish I could blame it on an internal voice whispering for me to go back, or someone running after me, telling me they didn't mean it, or me getting some kinda revelation from God, but no. I can't blame it on any of those. The blame is completely and solely on something so far away from these things that is isn't even funny.

I stumbled.

On a rock.

When you think that it would take something huge, something magnificent and meaningful to ever make you stop, it happens to be a tiny, inconvenient piece of rock that brings you down, makes you stumble to the ground and shatter your dream of an endless runaway.

I pick at the loose skin on the inside of my hand, squinting to see if all the small rocks that entered the wound after my fall has been fully removed. It hurts, but the physical pain is better than the emotional pain going on inside me.

I wish I had never run in the first place, 'cause I've got nowhere to go. I know I need to go back there, back to the Carlin's, and I know they'll understand, whatever psycho story Spencer gave them, I know they'll let me explain my side of it.

I wish I had never run, 'cause now I will have to walk all those feet back, and each step will make it that much harder.

But it's got to be done.

I'm going to fight for this family.

---

Still sitting here. Still not a single step back on my way to the Carlin's. Still completely dark outside.

I'm procrastinating. That exactly what I'm doing. I'm dreading something, and instead of diving straight into it, I'm making it all that much worse by waiting. Thinking. Imagining all the scenarios that can take place.

It's a stupid thing to do, really, 'cause it won't help the outcome. Not the least bit.

Still I do it.

Still I choose to observe my surroundings with forced concentration. I'm making those shades behind the tree much more interesting to me than they would've been if it weren't for the dread of going home.

Notice how I suddenly used the word 'home'?

I just noticed that myself.

Back to focusing on the shades. Hm, someone going for a nightly jog down the street, isn't there? At this time a night? Maybe they just got home from work. Or maybe they're working night shifts, and this is their morning jog? 'Cause if it is, it's kinda sad. Taking a morning jog in the middle of the night. I hope I don't end up like that. Taking my morning jogs at night.

Notice how I desperately try to focus on anything but the long
walk back home?

I do.

Because I hope to God my usual ramblings are a bit more interesting that this.

The jogging shade is almost by me now, on the other side of the street. Who would go jogging in flip flops? I mean, seriously? The only person I can imagine doing that would be Glen.

Glen looooves his flip flops.

Wait, Glen? Wasn't that Glen?? I can faintly recognize the floppy noise the flip flops make when Glen tries to run in a masculine way, and as I squint in the darkness for a better view of the jogging shade, I know I'm right.

Those flip flops always give him away.

Then reality hits me. What is Glen doing here? Why is Glen running around in flip flops?

"Glen...?" I distantly voice out, as the shade runs past me. How he managed to hear that is beyond me, but he's slowing down, stopping, breathing hard, hands resting on his knees. It takes him seconds before he turns his head around, searching for the owner of the voice, knowing full well it was me. It takes him a few seconds more before he sees me, and trudges toward me.

What I was trying to face has now come to face me.

"Ashley? God, I've been looking for you everywhere...!"

His concern is evident in his voice, and it soothes me, warms me.

"You-..."

He stops to regain his normal breathing, before he continues his sentence.

"You can't just run off like that Ash, we all got really worried."

I know it's wrong, I know it's inappropriate, but hearing him utter those words makes my face light up, makes my heart skip a beat. I'm not used to people worrying about me.

"Whatever Spencer did, I'm sure she didn't mean it."

What?

"What?"

"I saw you run off from the driveway from the window, and when I asked Spencer about it, she had this really weird expression on her face, so I know she did something. What did she say Ash?"

I'm dumbfolded.

Not because Spencer didn't say anything, but because Glen so obviously is taking my side.

Glen is taking my side over his sister's.

"Uhm, she-..."

I stop mid-sentence, knowing that whatever I utter now can be used against me later, if Spencer suddenly gets the desire to tell her side of the story after all.

"It's not-... She didn't do anything, it was me, okey?"

He's staring at me like he doesn't believe me, like he's daring me to say the truth.

"Can we just-... Can we go home...?"

It wasn't just me noticing the word 'home' being uttered from my lips this time. The warmth of his sympathetic smile doesn't compare to the warmth of his eyes, as he extends his hand and helps me up. I cringe when the palm of his hand hits the wound inside my own palm. He notices and lifts our joined hands up, looking at me for approval, and when I nod he carefully inspects it.

"Did Spe-..."

"I fell when I ran, that's why I didn't get further than this," I hurriedly breathe out, not wanting him to utter those words of blame I knew he would do. He looks at me wearily, before he continues to inspect the wound. As we're walking toward the house, our house, I can't help but smile, the way he's treating me with such calmness and love. The way he looks at me with adoration.

I can't help but feel he's becoming the brother I never had; just like I hope I'm becoming the sister he deserves.

---