Chapter 29

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-Jasmines POV-

I woke up from all of the flashbacks I was having. Me taking care of my mom, my dad not caring, bullies, insults, seeing hate on Twitter, the creep from earlier, everything.

I was trying not to cry loudly, but I was failing horribly so I went to the kitchen to get some water. Maybe a cup water will calm me down.

I reached into the cupboard to get a glass. I filled it up with tap water and started to drink it. My anxiety was acting up and I started shaking uncontrollably.

I pulled the glass away from my lips and tried to control it. In the process, the glass slipped from my fingers and shattered as it hit the ground.

Seeing all of the glass shards made my wrists itch really bad. Please, no. I've been doing good, I don't want to go back.

My breath quickened as the urge to grab one of the glass pieces became stronger.

Ashton came running into the room, sleepily. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

It felt like I couldn't move. My eyes wouldn't leave the broken glass that scattered around the ground. I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat.

"Jasmine?" Ashton said, trying to get my attention.

The itching became worse and worse, and it wasn't until now I realized I had my arms to my chest, rapidly scratching them.

I tried to walk away, but again, I literally couldn't move as the result of my anxiety acting up so bad. "I-I can't..." I mumbled, unsure of what to say.

"Jasmine? Come here. Get away from the glass." He commanded.

I finally regained my conscious and was able to take a few steps back.

I was far enough away from the glass for Ashton to step in front of me and look me in the eye and I stared right back at him.

"Ja-" he started but immediately stopped when he saw that a couple of my old cuts had been scratched open. "Shit." He murmured.

He's been through this before, so he knows exactly what was happening now.

He picked me up and carried me to the bathroom. He wiped away the blood that was surfacing, and applied some pressure until they stopped bleeding, which didn't take long since they are pretty old.

He hugged me and started rubbing my back while I cried into his shoulder.

"What happened?" He asked, gently when I finally calmed down.

"I was having a dream of all these flashbacks of my mom and dad and bullies and all that. I woke up crying and went to get a drink. I started shaking and dropped the glass and I froze but then you came in and yeah..." I explained shakily.

"Listen to me. I understand you have a past of awful things that have happened, but you don't need to think about them anymore. Your dad was a dick. Your mom was a dick. People at school are dicks, and that cup is a dick. Don't worry about them anymore. You have us, and we love you. That's all that matters. We love you so much more than you could ever imagine. You'll be okay because we're gonna help you. I promise we will make you okay again, but you have to promise me something to." He said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"You have to let us. You have to tell us everything: what makes you happy, what makes you sad, what makes you anxious, and what makes you mad. You've gotta open up to us and let us know how your feeling. So, you need to promise me that you will tell us all of your feelings and let us help you." He said. My urge vanished by the sound of his voice. You can hear that he cares, that he hates seeing me like this.

"I promise I will." I said.

He smiled and picked me up, enveloping me in a bear hug. I giggled as he brought me to the bedroom.

He set me down on the bed gently and grabbed something from the desk on the other side of the room. When he got closer, I could see that it was a black permanent marker. "What's that for?" I asked.

He grabbed my wrist and took the lid off of the marker. "It's called the butterfly project. You can't cut, or you kill the butterfly. You can't try to wash it off, but eventually it will go away, along with the urge." He explained while he drew a butterfly on each wrist, with a little signature beside it.

I smiled and zapped my arms around him. "Thank you." I whispered into his ear.

He hugged me tighter. "I love you, Jasmine. You mean the world to me. I'd do anything for you."

My heart melted at his words. He's like the fatherI never had. Regardless of what that creep made me do, he deserved the title.

"I love you too, Dad." I said.

He gently pulled away from the hug and looked at me. "Don't force yourself into anything, okay? If you aren't ready to say it, don't. Don't worry about my feelings." He rushed out.

I giggled and hugged him again. "It's okay. I know it's just you and you wouldn't do anything like that." I explained.

He instantly hugged me tighter and I could feel his cheek raise in a smile against my head.

I yawned and he giggled at me. "Let's get back to bed, yeah?" He suggested.

I nodded and leaned back into the bed and he joined me.

"Goodnight princess, I love you." He whispered as he pulled the blanket over us.

"Goodnight Dad, I love you too." I said before I fell asleep.


People have asked so I would like to say: in America its called a living room and in Australia it's called a lounge. Basically what I'm saying is that a lounge = living room.

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