Hopelessly Falling [book 2]

Chapter Thirty

XXX
• • •

Crystal's POV***

        I couldn't sprint to my car fast enough.

Connor had fallen asleep and me and my mom were catching up with each other when I got the call from Layla. I quickly told my mom I would fill her in later, and assured her everything was fine as I grabbed my keys and ran out the front door.

I called Ashton's phone over and over again as I sped across town, trying to find the place Layla told me he probably went. She sounded hysterical over the phone, and really the only information I got was that he was beyond pissed off and about to be drunk off his ass. I hoped nothing too terrible happened between them two.. I don't think I could stand it.

My heart hammered in my chest as I got sent to voicemail for the hundredth time. I swore violently and threw my phone down onto the passenger's seat next to me. It took way too long, but I finally found the old warehouse Layla was talking about in the middle of nowhere. Jeez, sketchy much??

I would have been more hesitant to get out of my car if I hadn't seen his black sports car parked in the darkness, lit up by my headlights. The air that night was cold, but I couldn't even tell, my skin burning up from worry. I heard some commotion inside, and burst threw the doors.

The warehouse was empty except for each corner, which were lined with various items and belongings. I pushed any confusion to the back of my mind as I took in Ashton standing in the middle, and the small fire he had going in front of him. He didn't even notice that I was there as he continued to toss what looked like pictures into the flames. I marched right up to him.

"Ashton," I spoke, and his eyes finally snapped up to meet mine. There was a lot of vodka gone from the bottle he held in his left hand, and I hoped with everything I had that it hadn't been full when he started. He stumbled a little in surprise when he saw me.

"Crystal?" He slurred out, wiping his face with the back of the hand holding the pictures. I grabbed them out of his hand, and his disoriented state let me do so with ease. I looked down at them, and in the light of the fire I could see that they were a bunch of pictures of him with his mom and a few with his dad.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I looked up at him, horrified, and tucked the pictures away into my jeans. He swayed a little, an expression of pure numbness and hurt molded across his typically perfect features.

"You're lucky to have those pictures!" I yelled at him and tried to snap him out of it. I had lost all my old family pictures when my laptop was destroyed about a year ago, and it's killed me every day since. To see him voluntarily burning his... I couldn't even stomach it.

A tear slid down his cheek as he brought up the bottle and took another long swig, leaving a silver trail down his face. I tried to grab the bottle from him, but this time he managed to push me away. My eyes burned a little at how broken he looked right now.

"Ashton, talk to me. What happened?" I tried to get through to him, and he wiped his face off again with his free hand, anger and despair sharing dominance over his eyes.

I had a descent amount of experience dealing with people when they were drunk- from those years with my mom- but nothing that had ever hurt my heart as much as this did. I held back tears of my own as I waited for his answer.

"Can you go," His voice rumbled out, "why are you even here?"

"I don't know. That's what I'm trying to figure out," I replied, trying to hold his gaze, but he kept looking at the fire, his gaze burning more than the fire itself.