Ashley's Asylum (3)

36 | Ashley's Asylum

It was between late or very early when a blanket embraced Ashley from behind. Michael took a seat on the step above her, and after a moment's hesitation, placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know somewhere that will still be open" he murmured.

Ashley checked for the watchful figure, but they were gone or worse out of sight.

Michael led the way to a small hut on the far side of the fair. Covered by a see-through plastic tent, a ring of white fairy-lights and the orange glow of an outdoor heater created shapes on the cover. Steam rose from a small chimney, but still, the plastic misted so when Ashley and Michael entered it was tropically warm. Ashley could see a strange mixture of drinks being had in the small space, large mugs of hot chocolate and, larger still, flagons of beer. She half expected a cup of chocolate so hesitated when presented with a jug of frothing beer.

She accepted and took a quick sip, it popped and fizzled on her tongue.

Choosing a table, Michael sagged into the seat opposite her. Now night, the shadows returned to his features. Here sat someone she recognised, clad in darkness and weary. He drank half his beer quietly, leaving her to sip at hers to pass the time. It surprised her to see him drink alcohol, he had never struck her as someone who'd purposefully dim their perception and awareness.

While they sat, she looked out through the gap in the plastic where the night awaited. The hut felt separate from the rest of the fair which was currently clad in darkness. To Ashley, it was as if everything within the gazebo existed in a different time zone or a different place altogether.

She never thought somewhere so mundane could feel mystical.

"What you saw earlier" he began, drawing her attention away from the dark. He subtly shook his head, "we won't mention it after tonight. It never happened."

Ashley saw no sense in arguing with that, what she saw had left her feeling at odds. She would, in all honesty, prefer to forget. Seeing Sam vulnerable made him human, and she didn't want that sort of thing clouding her mind. That being said, she wanted to know what, more than anything, made someone like him do something like that to himself. It appeared her face was as readable as ever.

Michael placed down his drink and loosely folded his arms on the table. He spoke in a hushed tone. "It is Sam's business what secrets he keeps but," he shrugged his hands, "when he acts like this, he opens the door to questions. Now you're with us I will tell you enough to keep you out of trouble, but it is still his secret."

Michael held out a hand and whirled it around while searching for the words to begin.

"When we were young, Sam," his eyes wondered as he searched again for the right words. He brushed the table with his fingertips as he thought. "You see, he doesn't like being touched."

His gaze met Ashley's, and he held it, urging her to connect the dots.

"Has he always been that way?"

"No."

She leant closer. "Did something happen-"

Michael waved a hand dismissively, and the rest of her words dropped away. He wouldn't tell her, but she couldn't fathom it being anything else. A rapist who didn't like being touched. Was it only when he was on the receiving end of unwanted attention, the irony would be unbearable.

She leant away from Michael and took a sip of the beer. The flavour had grown on her, and after consuming a little, it didn't seem unwise to ease the nerves with a small amount of alcohol.

"He hasn't had a fair life," Michael added, drawing her attention back. He stared deep into his beer like a crystal ball, seeing past events as clearly as he saw her. "He has suffered a great deal, that I can honestly say. He's been let down by family...and friends." Michael's forehead creased. The haunted look in his eyes unnerved her.