Ashley's Asylum (3)

30 | Ashleys Asylum

Ashley felt a horrid churning in her stomach whilst she watched the door handle shudder and then fall still. Someone was stood just outside the door and whoever it was, filled her with a cold dread.

Slowly the door opened and she squeezed the quilt beneath her in anticipation.

Michael traipsed up the trailer steps, his footfall heavy and slow. She saw him first. His eyes were far away and his eyebrows were drawn together in a frown.

His pale gaze surveyed the small surroundings and locked on to her within seconds. He paused momentarily on the last step and she felt the way his eyes padded up and down her appearance before he continued. He came to a standstill in the kitchen and let the trailer door swing closed by itself. No Sam.

Ashley was too high on nerves to judge whether it was a good or bad thing. She slotted her hands into the crevice of her thighs to keep them still and waited as he turned on the kitchen tap to wash his hands. The sound of running water filled her ears and pushed out any attempt to think. Exhaustion had her in its grip and she couldn't shake herself loose.

Ashley didn't possess the mental energy to combat Michael right now and desperately hoped he didn't challenge her, she couldn't manage round two.

He flicked water droplets from his fingers before wiping them down his top.

"What do you think?" He asked casually, avoiding eye contact.

Ashley's lips parted as numerous responses fought to springboard off of her tongue.

Was he asking what she thought of the trailer, of the fair or this situation in its entirety because she thought it was all bloody awful. Ashley couldn't stop sweating for nerves and couldn't stand the endless upheaval she felt inside. He made her feel like she was free falling in the dark and at any moment she'd hit the ground and it would all be over.

"What do I think? I think there's some explaining to do" she responded.

"I meant about the trailer" he muttered.

"It's, nice" she croaked lamely.

Michael nodded, his bottom lip protruding a little.

"Would you like a drink?" he offered, gesturing to her crackly response.

Ashley cleared her throat.

She said, "Yes, please" and then chided herself. Why was she being polite? She wasn't even thirsty, it was simply something to do.

Michael reached into the small fridge and retrieved a juice box. He handed it to her before he lent against the cabinets. Ashley slowly poked a hole in the box and lifted it to her lips, perfectly aware he was watching her. They stayed like that and she noted how he no longer fidgeted. It seemed an entirely new person stood before her in comparison to the man she dealt with only an hour or so ago.

She looked him over, from the waist up with the caution of someone who didn't want to look but had to. He had his arms folded and tapped his right-hand fingers against his left bicep like a man deliberating an important decision or perplexing situation.

The situation was perplexing, Ashley wasn't sure what might slip out of her mouth if she didn't watch herself. She needed to make peace with Michael on the surface but the hurricane of unhappy feelings whirling around inside her, ready to spew out like bile if she didn't make an effort to keep them in, couldn't be forgotten.

Michael evidently found this circumstance perplexing for a different reason. Finally, he spoke.

"Fine, you have questions" he murmured tiresomely, like a professor faced with his dullest student.