Ava

Ch 7 Behind These Copper Eyes

Asher and Faye stayed like that, side by side for a while. Just laying there, talking about books, and music, and poetry. They had contrasting views on poetry. Faye thought that Walt Whitman was brilliant. She liked how he said things that no one else would ever dare say, even now. Asher appreciated Whitman, but he thought that the way he phrased things was pretentious and entitled. Asher's exact words were, "He's a prick!" They continued arguing, playfully. They teased each other. They talked about Shakespeare and then Yeats and then Tennyson. They never ran out of things to talk about. But they did fall silent for a moment.

There was a pause. A lull. Time had seemed to slow down and maybe even stop altogether. They turned onto their sides to face each other and stared at each other. Faye had never really realized how long and dark Asher's eyelashes were. She had never realized how large his eyes were, bright and ready to experience the universe. She had never realized how warm his eyes were, how deeply copper-brown they were. She had never realized how easy it was to get lost in them. As they stared at each other, they lost track of time in each other's eyes.

Outside the glass pane of Faye's balcony, night had fallen, and soon, neither could see the other. They laid there. Faye was cuddled up in her blanket to keep warm while Asher watched her. They were whispering lines of poetry to each other, but soon it was only Asher. She swore she was listening but Asher could tell she was drifting off. Off to sleep. He watched her. As she fell deep into sleep, he held her. He may not have been able to feel her skin under his, but he did hold her. He whispered his favorite lines into her small ears, watching as her eyes closed shut.

"I went to thank her, but she slept. It was short to cross the sea. To look upon her like, alive, but turning back, it was slow."

At this, he gently pressed his lips at the edge of her face, against the skin right in front of her delicate ears, and let go. He got up, careful not to wake her and then slipped out into the cold, snowy, winter night.

~~~

When Asher got home, Ava had already gone to sleep. She was laying on her side; her head rested on one hand while the other hand was crossed at her chest. One of her legs was hanging out from her blanket. Asher tucked her leg back in and then pulled the blanket tighter around her. He couldn't feel the harsh winter air but he could tell that it was freezing by the way Ava was curled up. It was nights like these that made him question his own existence.

~~~

Asher was born in 1982 to his parents, Henry and Rose Wilde. Both were 22 years old. They were high school sweethearts and Henry had finally proposed in their 2nd year of college. Henry was studying to become a software engineer. Rose was going into banking and had already graduated with her Associate's degree. They were the perfect couple, now with a beautiful baby boy, Asher Elliot Wilde.

Asher grew up just like any other boy his age. At 10 months, he had said his first word, "bunny." At age 4 he had made his first friend. At age 6, he met his first bullies who made fun of his scrawniness. Overall, Asher had a very typical childhood. It was when he was 7 that he first noticed that things were a little off.

Asher had been read a bedtime story, tucked into bed, and then kissed goodnight by both his parents. He decided he was going to be the teensiest bit bad and would stay up past his bedtime of 8:00, so he turned on his night light and started to go through his picture books. He didn't know how long it had been but he heard sounds coming from his parents bed room. Yelling. Cries. *Crash* Something hit the wall and shattered. Asher turned off his light and climbed back into bed as fast as he could, pulling his blanket tight around his small body. He buried his head under his pillow and clamped his hands over his ears, praying it would stop. He could hear his mothers sharp, piercing cries. He felt the tears run down his face. He couldn't imagine what was going on.

Why wasn't daddy stopping whoever was hurting mommy?

He didn't know how long it lasted, but when it stopped, Asher didn't even notice. His mothers cries were in his head, playing over and over again. He cried himself to sleep that night.

The next morning when he woke up, nothing had changed. His mother was her same happy self and his father was just as playful and loving as usual, so Asher kept to himself. That's how he survived, even in school, keeping to himself. Sometimes his mother would ask Asher to keep secrets from his father.

"Listen Asher, someday, you and me might go on a little road trip for a while, won't that be fun! The only thing is that daddy won't be there, okay? This is our little secret."

From age 7 to age 9, the screams happened almost everyday. Asher had started to be able to make out some of the words.

"You worthless little...!"

"You think you can steal my son away from me?! Who do you think you are?!"

But he never told...it was their secret.

He noticed that his mother had started to come home later and later, drunk. She said that she worked but Asher knew she didn't have a job. He had overheard his parents talking. His father didn't even bother with her anymore, so Asher would be the one to take care of her. He would lead her to the bathroom. He would wash the vomit off of her and then he would take her to bed. In the morning, he would try to feed her, but all she ever wanted was another drink. Asher was only 10.

Asher's father had a little bit of trouble controlling his temper. He would get angry with the way the house was kept, a speck of dust would set him off. So everyday, after 4:00 when he got home from school, he would clean the house for two hours, and then make dinner. He did what he could to survive.

When Asher was 12, he accidentally burnt some pasta. He hadn't meant to and would have cleaned it up, and hidden the evidence, but his father had smelled the burning and was ready to hit something. Asher sank into a corner as his father came for him. He felt a chunk of his hair get ripped out of his skull as his father grabbed him and pushed him aside. He shielded his face with his hands.

"Put down your hands Asher! NOW! Take it like a man! I knew you were a coward, just like that mother of yours!"

Asher stood straight up to defend his mother only to feel his fathers fist pummel into his stomach. He struggled too breathe, gagging, clutching his stomach. Something knocked him to the ground. Asher was angry now. He didn't care anymore how much pain he was in. He started to get up only to be knocked to the ground again as something smashed into his skull. Little shards of a broken plate flew everywhere around him. Asher heard a crunch as his father stepped down onto Asher's left leg with his foot.

"Don't you dare insult my mother!" Asher cried as he felt something drip from the side of his head, into his mouth. His mouth tasted like metal now.

"Oh, you think you're a man now. That you can fight me? That you're big and tough. You're barely half my size. I'll call your mother whatever I want."

Asher tried to get up again. This time, no one pushed him back down. This time, he made it half way up before a sharp pain shot up his leg and caused him to collapse. He felt someone pull him up, grab his arm, and then felt teeth sinking into the soft flesh on his arm. Asher shrieked in pain. He couldn't stand it anymore. He felt whoever had pulled him up let go and felt himself collapse back onto the ground again and pass out.

Similar events occurred many times after this. This was simply the first.

When Asher was 15, his mother had managed to stay sober for a year, to give birth to Ava. Asher fell in love with Ava from the moment he saw her in the hospital. She was his brand new baby sister and he loved her. He would love her and protect her forever. Asher took care of Ava once his mother went back to her old habits.

One day, Asher had come home from high school to find his mother passed out on the sofa. He tried to wake her but nothing worked...

"I meant to find her when I came; Death had the same design; but the success was his, it seems, and the discomfit mine."

When Ava was 2, and Asher was 17, he just couldn't handle it anymore. He kissed Ava goodbye, promising to look after her in the after life. Then he went up to the old Keyes mansion...and pulled the trigger.

"Because I could not stop for Death, he kindly stopped for me; the carriage held but just ourselves and immortality."