His "Sister"

Chapter 3: Unexpected Visitor

*Author's note: SORRY THAT I HAVEN'T POSTED IN A WHILE! I had a complete brain  fart when it came to this story. It's better now, though. So read it, fan, vote, comment, all that good stuff. Or don't, it's not too important to me. :) Enjoy!*

I sob a little more, feeling about 10 times more pathetic than I did before.

But hey, that's life. I wipe my eyes with my hand, I will not give that lowlife the satisfaction of having me cry because of him. I think I deserve to feel happy, so over indulgence should do the trick.

I walk to the fridge and search for the perfect fattening food to indulge myself in. I'll probably get fat . .  . oh well. It wouldn't matter if I was the size of balloon, and I floated away, l right now. I'm not really wanted by anyone.

Except for Charles.

I cringe and shake the image of him out of my head.

With just a simple name, description of a situation, or idea, I can instantly picture it.

Sometimes it's a gift, but not in this case.

Charles is the LAST thing I need to deal at the moment.

"Emerson!?" A voice calls, accompanied by loud knocking. Who is interupting my pity party?? Well whoever it is, they're going to regret it.

"I'll be there in a sec!" I rush to the door, and grab a stranded umbrella, for protection. Just in case the person at the door is a child raping ax-murder. If they try to pull any perverted shit on me, I'll whack them unconcious with my little friend.

It's unrealistic, I know.

But I'd rather be safe, than sorry.

I twist the golden doorknob to reveal . . . Ashton.

What is he doing here?

"Uh, hi. Come on in," I mutter, and carefully slide the umbrella out of sight.

"What's with the umbrella, Em?" He chuckles.

"Look, Ashton. It's about 9:30 now, and it's dark outside. So if you happened to be some type of professional criminal, I wouldn't be completely defenseless." I explain quickly, not even really in the mood to see his beautiful face.

"Well, that sucks Em. You got rid of the umbrella, and now you're screwed. Cause I'm a professional criminal." Ashton flashes me an evil smile, then lifts me up, and spins me around.

Before I can even roll my eyes, I'm clinging to his shoulder for dear life.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! PUT. ME. DOWN!" I shriek, and struggle to break free of his grip.

Reluctantly, he puts me down.

Then, he loses his footing on the ground, and the rest is a blur.

I reach out to try to catch him.

I do catch him, but Ashton's weight pulls us down.

So now the guy I'm in love with, is lying on top of me.

Talk about an awkward moment.

"Sorry bout that." Ashton apologizes, his face a bright shade of  pink.

"It's okay, I'm fine." I say, and brush myself off a bit.

"Are you sure? I kinda crushed you like a bug."

"Seriously, Ashton. This ladybug is perfectly fine." I assure.

"Em, no you're not. I can see the giant welt on your head. Let me get you some ice." He guides me to my own kitchen, by holding my hand.  His grip is only released when he gets out some ice.

"You should become a detective when you grow up." I mutter.

His laughter echoes throughout the house, the neighborhood, and POSSIBLY the world.

I mentally slap myself, for talking to myself too loudly.

"You don't need to be a detective to notice obvious things." Ashton smiles.

This is the happiest I have ever been at home. It's funny how one guy can turn my sad moping ass into some smiling girl I don't even reconize.

I think he deserves an award for that accomplishment.

"Still. . . So why did you even come over tonight?" I wonder, feeling rude.

"You forgot your sweatshirt at my house earlier. I put it on the couch." His smile dims a bit.

Maybe he doesn't want to leave, as much as I don't want him too. No, that's impossibe, stop thinking that way. I mentally slap myself.

"Thanks, it was really nice for you to bring it over." I smile fakely, knowing that he's bound to leave soon.

I don't want to be alone again.

We just stand the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. He contemplates his next words, as do I.

I silently start a staring contest with him, our eyes concentrating on eachother, quickly becoming bored and tired.

"Em, um where are . . . your parents? And were you just . . . crying?" He asks, awkwardly.

He plays with his hands, visibly uncomfortable because I haven't responded. The tension has become a dark hole, threatening to swallow us both up.

I remain frozen, feeling both furious and devastated.

Ashton shouldn't have asked that.

"Go. Just leave. Now, please." I demand, coolly.

"What happened?" Ashton's voice is soft and smooth, like melted chocolate.

There is no way I can tell him.

I don't need extra judgement in my life.

An extra topping, on the pizza of pain, if you will.

Wow. I can't stop thinking of food.

I hate getting my period.

"Leave." I curtly say.

I escort him to the door.

"Someday, you will tell me." He promises, as he leaves.

I love Ashton, but I don't want him to worm himself into the roots of my pain. Pieces and parts of my life are seriously fucked up, and I don't want him in anywhere close to knowing why.

I refuse to tell another person about my parents, since I just seem like a helpless damsel, waiting to have someone save me. And that's not how it is, I'm perfectly fine dealing with my own emotional baggage.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine. I tell myself. Maybe if I tell myself this over and over again it will be true.

Lizzie, Stephanie, Caity, and Isabella all seemed to think I was just to broken to be friends with anymore.

So they left.

I might be happy at school, but my school life and home life are like night and day.

He will NOT ever see the darkness that possesses the night, as well as a part of me.

Ever.