BOOK II.
Four months have passed since Ashton and Ria's relationship fell into ruins. He's convinced that she hates him and she believes he never loved her. Giving up on each other, they attempt to mend their loneliness in the arms of their past; Ch...
❝I don't care what's at risk. I am going to murder that bastard.❞
Йой! Нажаль, це зображення не відповідає нашим правилам. Щоб продовжити публікацію, будь ласка, видаліть його або завантажте інше.
NEARLY SIX YEARS have passed since Ashton's been to this God-forsaken place. Merely sitting in the driveway staring up at the massive house brings back his darkest memories. Eighteen years of living with wealthy parents who harbored indigent hearts.
There was his father who refused to acknowledge his existence. Never speaking a word to him. Never even looking at him. Ashton can barely recall a single one of his father's features.
Then there's his mother. The woman who claimed to love her family while running off with Sophia's father every chance she got. The woman who pretends to be a parent whenever she feels like it.
A parent is supposed to be a teacher and your best friend. You love them and they love you back. If your parents die, you're supposed to be overwhelmed with complete and utter devastation. Grief beyond imagine. Agony. A pain that is indescribable. It's like losing a piece of your life.
Yet Ashton feels absolutely nothing.
There was not a single pull of emotion when his mother told him the news. Hearing his father died is like hearing a complete stranger died.
"Are you going to be okay?" Ria places a gentle touch to his thigh as they continue to sit in her car. She's been hesitant over the situation, not saying much, probably in fear of saying the wrong thing.
"I'm fine." He shrugs. "I honestly don't care. I just don't want to go into that damn house again."
Too many memories reside here. Times he experimented new drugs that Vivian brought to him. Times she'd sneak into this house, broken and battered, searching for comfort. Long nights when his parents filled the hollow walls with their screams, arguing over whose affair was worst.
Pain sears his very soul. His skin is too tight. Uncomfortable. He itches to shed a layer and free himself of this torture.
I don't want to be here.
"We can wait for Sophia and Dea to get here," she whispers.
"No." Ashton swallows his pain and burns the memories that corrode in the back of his mind. "Let's just get this over with."
Together, they climb out of her car. Ria is quick to stand by his side and slips her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. They approach the massive suburban home that's still picture-perfect like it was plucked from a home and living magazine. Only he knows of the horrors that rested inside this place.
When they reach the burgundy front door, Ashton rings the doorbell. They wait. Mere seconds later, Charlotte swings it open. Shadows encircle her red eyes. Her skin is pasty white. She looks awful. Sickly.
"Ashton," she exhales with relief and her lips pull up into a half-smile. Though the expression falters when her eyes flick to Ria. "You," she trails off and shock molds her aging face. "You're the mute woman."
