{CURRENTLY EDITING/SLIGHT REWRITE.}
Ainsley Ashter was a freak-show. A psychopath. An absolute and utter maniac.... Or so they thought.
She was imprisoned at the age of thirteen when she murdered her parents using nothing but the metal leg of her b...
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AINSLEY FEELS LIKE SHIT. A pounding in her head wakes her from her not-so peaceful slumber, moving out of John's grasp with a low groan. Oh. The memories of the night before flood back like a tidal wave. It's pointless to fight it any longer. She settles back down gently onto the couch, trying to be as quiet as possible to not wake him. He's peaceful when he sleeps. A smile on his face as if having the best dream.
She smiles a little. The happiness of this morning is quickly overshadowed by her racing thoughts; she can't stop thinking of those she's left behind. Without a goodbye, even. Especially after Finn's death, knowing how Raven's screams still haunt Ainsley, and yet she walked away without a second thought. She knows they'll be okay without her. That's never the problem, because surely nobody misses her that much, but it doesn't stop her from wondering what has happened there since she left.
Did they ever rescue the others from the Mountain?
“Penny for your thoughts?” John breaks the silence, and in turn breaks Ainsley out of her morose thoughts, while sitting up a little to rest on his elbows.
Ainsley turns to face him, smile unwavering at the sight of him awake, despite the massive headache.
“it's just crossed my mind we've been in the bunker for four days now,” Ainsley admits. “We have no idea if they got the others out of Mount Weather, or if the Grounders turned on –”
“Woah, hey there killer, relax,” John interrupts gently and places his arm around her. “They'll be fine. I didn't think their safety concerned you so much,” he adds, his tone more curious than anything; everyday she manages to surprise him.
“I don't,” Ainsley promises. “But I'm curious.” She sighs. “I tried the door earlier, but it still won't budge.”
“And that's a bad thing?” John asks. “We could stay forever. Just you and me. No Grounders, nobody trying to kill us,” he continues, though his tone reminded her of someone trying to convince himself rather than her. “We could do it.”
“Be realistic, John.” Ainsley shakes her head. It's a nice fantasy; a nice dream. However, she can't imagine being stuck inside this bunker for years. They'd run out of food before then. “We’d die here. That's not exactly a survivor's move, is it?”
Ainsley hates this, hates herself. It's not easy to destroy his vision, if it's true he really sees them spending the rest of their lives here. Her heart aches. Watching his face fall is never something she wants to witness again, even if he is coming to the same conclusions.
“As much as i'd love to be here forever with you,” Ainsley adds after a moment of silence. “We need that door open. We'll figure out the rest when we need to cross that bridge.”
“Yeah?” John scoffs, angry and despondent all at once, waging a war entirely in his own mind before he shakes his head. “Yeah,” he admits, quieter this time, conceding. “You're right.”
★──────────★
Every day starts the exact same way; eat their food, watch the same exact clips over and over again on the television, and try their utmost best at prying those doors open. The repetitive days are killing Ainsley. At least, that's what it feels like. It's not like there isn't some enjoyable moments. After all, they spend the last portion of their night cuddled on the couch, talking, and just being; with okay, maybe a few minor fights in between. Let's face it, neither are used to being locked with only one person. And temperaments do fly.
It's been forty days. Forty days since they'd found the bunker and felt the sun on their skin. It's the little things. Things like that, that Ainsley misses the most.
At least Ainsley and John were growing closer at least; her only solace. She's long since stopped pretending. Allowing herself to grow close and comfortable with the idea that John might actually mean a lot to her. There's only one thing standing in her way. The impending doom that'll befall both of them if they don't open those doors. Soon.
“Earth to psycho princess,” John teases from beside her, taking it upon himself to wave his hands in front of her face. “You missed the best part of the video,” he says, exasperated. “The ending.”
Ainsley shoots him a look at the nickname, but smiles anyway, especially at the sight of his sarcastic grin. “I'm well aware of what part we're on, Jonathan,” she responds, winking at him sarcastically.
“Jonathan?” His nose wrinkles in distaste. “I think I prefer you calling me John.”
“Yeah?” Ainsley smiles, mischief clear in it. She comes closer to him until she's directly beside him, moving her head close to his ear. “Are you sure about that, John?” she whispers, enunciating every word.
John swallows thickly. He hadn't expected her breath in his ear, nor the sudden behavior. After all, forty days ago she'd never have dared to do something so.. risky. Ainsley smirks at him. His heartbeat picks up speed that she can hear through his shirt.
“Am I.. making you nervous, John?” she drops her voice, eyes gleaming, wanting nothing more than to provoke a reaction out of him. Ainsley places her hand behind his ear. Slowly tracing the space behind it, while her other hand rests gently on his thigh.
“Damn it, Ashter,” John breathes, eyes wide with lust as he gently but firmly pushes her until she's underneath him.
He presses his lips against hers in his moment of weakness; fervent kisses growing in intensity, losing themselves to the fiery throes of passion.
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