Over Again


Ashlyn Rose was your typical hormonal teenager, She did typical teenager things; listened and played music, hung-out with friends and obsessed over boys. There was this one boy in particular though, who changed Ashlyn's world upside-down. But with him gone, she finds herself lost; with no one to trust. When she could potentially find love again will she let them in? or lock them out?


4. It's Really You

Ashlyn’s POV


“Harry?” my voice came out hoarse.


“Wow, Ash. It really is you. You know I thought it was but I figured it’d be awkward if it wasn’t” Harry let out a small chuckle before continuing. “How have you been doing?”


I seemed to be at a loss of words; the ability to form any sort of thought was gone.


After what seemed like ages, I managed to spit out a few words. “Yeah, umm, I’ve been busy. What about you and the band? Pretty big now, huh?”


Harry responded easily, as if nothing had ever happened between us; how could he be so calm.


“Well, I just got off tour with them and that was great. I love just singing in front of crowds like that.” His eyes sweep my face as if taking in the details it contains.


“I remember you singing in front of the school for talent shows. You would always come to me for help; to test pitch and sound.”  I say with a sad voice; recalling on the memories we shared was always hard.


“Yeah, I remember that too.” We both remained silent for a minute or two; reliving some memories. “So, I should go. I have to meet the boys. It was nice to see you again Ashlyn. Maybe another time we’ll cross paths again; but until then, goodbye.” Harry always seemed to know what to say and when to say it; he had a good knack for that. He left the shop with a smile on his face and with a flick of his hand, he walked off.




After closing the store and walking home, I decided I would look for a better apartment building. Mine seemed to home to many criminals; drug dealers, rapists, murderers. You name it, I’ve got it. Next door to me though is a kind old man; he was caught up in alcohol and drugs but quit while he was ahead. Now he lives a peaceful life. He helped save me once.






I made my home after work one night and was stopped in the stairwell by a man. Now this man seemed drunk so I decided to leave him be. I politely made me way around the large man and continued on to my flat.


While walking I could hear thumping of feet hitting the ground behind me. I sneak a glance and sure enough, there he is. I pick up my speed; walking a little faster. But the man does as well. I start to get worried so I run; afraid of him beating me.


He of course ran after me and caught my arm in no time what-so-ever. Spinning me around and shoving me into a wall causing me to groan, made him smile. Only was it now, when I realized he was – pardon my French- higher than a fucking kite; his eyes blood-shot and his hands trembling. He pulled me in close and I could easily smell the alcohol emitting from his breath. I gagged on the smell.


He pulled me flush against his body and leant his head down; towards my neck. I shivered in fear and pushed on his chest, making him retaliate with more force. His lips littered my neck with wetness and his teeth nipped at the skin. He sucked and sucked, making it red, than he would graze his teeth along it. Though as much as I shoved, there was no moving this guy.


So I screamed.


Mr. Thompson, who had heard my pleads, ran out of his apartment with a blade and gun, preparing himself for the worst.


“Let her go.” His voice wasn’t booming but it was stern enough for the man to release my arms and remove his body from mine. I scurried over – and cowered behind – to Mr. Thompson.  He placed a comforting arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his body. He walked me into his flat and set his weapons on the table beside him. I stare at them uneasily.


“Now listen here girl, if you’re going to live here, you ‘ought to have one of ‘em handy.” He gestured toward the gun and knife. I shook my head and picked up the gun.


“Sir, I have no idea how to use it.” He looked at me with excitement in his eyes.


“Good. I’ll teach ya how ta.” His accent making it more difficult to understand. He took my arm and led me towards a blank wall. “Stand here.” He pointed to the ground. I stand where he instructed and he places the gun in my hands.


“'Yer getting’ it girl! I’m almost ‘fraid of ya I am.” I had hit almost every target he had set up. No exactly hitting them where I wanted to, be hitting them none-the-less.
I took almost two weeks for me to finally be able to shoot a gun properly. On my way out of his flat he patted me on the back, told me he was proud of me, and gave me one of his guns.


“Just to be safe, ya know?” I simply nodded and gave him a quick hug. The gun currently sits under my mattress; ready to be fired.




I unlocked my door and locked it right back up after me; you never know. I place my keys in the bowl and sling my jacket and bag over the arm of the couch. I flick the kettle on and ready a mug for my tea. I walk down the hall to my room and strip out of my clothes and replace them with new ones; shorts and a tank. I saunter back towards the kitchen and pour the steaming water into my ready mug. After adding my milk and sugar, I sit on the couch and decide TV would be alright.


I flick channels for the majority of the time I watched; feeling helpless, I turned it off. I place my cup in the sink and tell myself that I’d wash it sometime tomorrow.


I wash off my excess make-up and clean my face; ridding myself of the dirt from working today. I slip off my shorts and tank top, leaving me in merely my underwear. I peel the covers back from the bed and slide in; the blankets creating a barrier for me. I sit up and read for about an hour or so, before deciding to turn in for the night.


Once again, before my hand can flick the switch off, my eyes land on the picture of us; Harry and I. We looked truly and genuinely happy. I flick the switch and I am once more, engulfed by darkness.

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