Deciding on You || a.i. (Book 2)

22 | Ashton

When Harry cries, you can hear it throughout the entire house. He wails and sobs so loudly that it reverberates off of every wall and, just to make things worse, he stomps on the floor until he can no longer stand.

Now that he's getting older, he only cries on rare occasions, but we still can't predict when he's going to erupt. And when he does, it's as if all of the times he could have cried are wrapped up into one.

"Where have you been?" My mom asks, rushing down the stairs just as I close the front door behind me. Her messy hair falls in her face, and she wraps her bathrobe tightly around her.

Upstairs, Harry's crying.

"I was at Maddie's; she had a panic attack," I say, glancing up the stairs, "What's going on?"

"See for yourself, but you're going to want to get the tool kit before you do," she turns to the kitchen, clearly stressed out of her mind, and I follow her. "You can't just leave in the middle of the night, Ashton."

Harry's screams from up above are already making my head throb, and I've been here for less than a minute.

"I'm sorry, but it was important," I say, "You know how important she is to me."

"What about us, Ash? I'm important, Harry's important," she sighs, "You have school today; your education is important."

"Well, maybe Maddie's more important," I mumble to myself as I pull open the drawers one by one. I can't even think with all of Harry's crying, and I can't remember where the hell we keep the tool kit.

"What?"

I close my eyes. I can't even think enough to be better, clearly. Talking back is what the Disappointing Ashton would do. Finally, in the bottom drawer, I find the tool kit.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I correct myself, grabbing it and sliding the drawer shut again, "I'll try not to do it too much, or at least come back before morning. But sometimes I'm needed over there."

This seems to calm her down a little, and I don't even want to know how quickly this conversation would have gone south if I had just repeated what I said. She takes a sip of coffee and sighs.

"I know, I know, Ash," she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand, "You're almost 19; you've got your own life. I just have to get ready for work, and it would have only taken me two minutes to fix, but he started screaming for you. It would have been nice to have you on hand, is all."

It would have been nice to have a dad on hand, too is the first thing to come to my mind, but I wouldn't dare say it. Not to her, and especially not under these circumstances.

It's not her fault, I remind myself of what my therapist said. It's not your fault. It's his, and only his.

"Well, I'll take care of this," I say instead, gesturing to the tool kit. "And I'll take him to school, too, if you need."

"Ash, you're already missing first period."

I shrug, "It's fine. I haven't skipped much this semester, and I don't have anything lower than a C so far. Just call and tell them it's a family emergency or something."

By now, Harry has heard my voice and is screaming even louder. His stomping above us is a lot more annoying now that he's older, too.

"Which saint are you?" My mom asks, walking over to me and cupping my cheeks in her hands, "And what have you done with my demon baby?"

"How do you know that it's not Satan himself invading my vessel," I ask apathetically before grinning at her, "Trying but failing to pass as your loving son?"