🔱 BROKEN 🔱
A feeling of hopelessness, loneliness and despair. A feeling that leaves a person empty, blank and stone cold because of it. Usually accompanied by a lack of self worth.
Cause: Trauma, depression or loss of a loved one. Sometimes all of...
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《Ashley Aesthetic Above》
Ashley's heart thumped hard in her chest when she pushed the door open. She shut her eyes, silently praying for him not to be in the room.
Fate, however decided to show her that it had a savage side because the moment she opened her eyes and looked to the right, her gaze landed on his bare back as he leaned on the couch.
She trailed her gaze at his heavily tattooed arm and down to his hand. Her breathe hitched when she noticed the object he was holding and she froze, her knees actually wobbling before threatening to give out on her.
She licked her shaky lower lip and held it between her teeth. He held the black gun as if he was holding the TV remote; casually and loosely but not loose enough for it to slip from his hand.
She frowned. It looked like it was meant to be there, like it was a part of him. Which it was; she just didn't understand how much.
He let out a sigh, his shoulders almost flexing as he did and leaned his head back.
"Lock the door."
Is this how I die? She wondered.
She gladly locked it, a little too fast for her liking but dammit she was slowly growing scared of him, seeing him for who he really is. She now understood why people were so afraid of him—even the teachers; he had a way of intimidating other people without even trying. Hoisting her rucksack up and closer to her neck, she clenched the strap hard and walked past the living room.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him bring the gun closer to his face, flicked his thumb on something before the magazine fell into his awaiting hand. He then pulled the slide back after putting the magazine on the table and caught the bullet that popped out the middle top of the gun. He then place the bullet next to the magazine.
Ashley looked away at that point, perplexed at how fluid and choreographed his movements were. It was kind of hot but she'd never admit it.
To anyone
Not even herself.
She pushed the glass door open and stepped in, her heart still beating furiously in her chest. Tossing her rucksack on her bed, she quickly got changed into her pajamas, which only consisted of her big brother's old shirt that reached her mid-thigh, and her underwear before she sprawled herself on the bed and studied for the stupid business maths CAT her class was to take the following day.
Of course, her gaze occasionally snapped up at the boy now sprawled on the couch with the back of his head facing her, and his feet crossed on the arm rest across him.
