Feel the Beat

What happens when you have two soulmate timers? What happens when you find out the one thing your soulmate's life revolves around is the one thing you'll never have? What happens when your soulmate is a drummer in a famous band and you're deaf? What happens when your soulmate seems to be anything but your perfect match?

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36. Chapter 35

Nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

Nothing could’ve prepared me from being woken up in the middle of the night by Anne-Marie who has tear stains on her cheeks while she slowly ushers me into the kitchen.

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the two men dressed in blue trousers and matching blue shirts with a logo of the Australian Federal Police stitched on there.

Nothing could’ve ever prepared me for the words they spoke to Anne-Marie and I, the formality, their reserved polite expressions, the pity I could see in their eyes. The “I’m sorry.” and “there was nothing we could do” that they wrote down on a piece of paper that seem so empty.

But nothing could ever be as empty as I feel now.

There’s no feelings, no emotions, just emptiness that makes me wonder if maybe I’m the one that died, instead of Ashton.

Anne-Marie tries asking me question. The police try to ask me questions, but I’m too numb to think. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone or be around anyone, so I just get up and start walking. The cool night air hits me as I close the front door behind me. I don’t want to wait around and try to understand their questions and tell them what happened tonight. And I certainly don’t want to wait around and having to identify the body.

Body.

It sounds so lifeless, so static. So unlike Ashton.

Ashton used to be the most energetic and excitable person I’d ever met. He had the cutest dimples in the world, his eyes used to shine bright, his giggle made everyone around him laugh.

Used to. Had. Made. All past tense.

Never again will I used present tense and never will we have a chance to see if we could have a future tense together.

As I breathe in fresh air I can feel my brain starting to process this new information. I don’t know what I prefer; the numbness or thinking so many unbearable thoughts.

My brain must be playing devilish tricks on me for I cannot stop imagining my would-have future with Ashton. How I would pick him each and every day. How he would force me to hiking and camping with him in the mountains even though he knows that I’m not fond of heights. How I’d bake him proper biscuits one day and let him eat the whole batch. Would we get married? Would we ever have children? I always wanted children, but now I won’t have anyone to raise them with.

Images of children with dirty blond hair and cute dimples plague my mind. I can vividly imagine our daughter trying to colour her curly hair using felt-tip pens so she can be like Michael.

Michael.

Shit.

Do Michael, Luke and Calum know already? Or are they still out partying? What will happen to 5 Seconds of Summer now? Will they quit the band and give up their dreams or continue without Ash and find him a replacement?

I stop walking and slump down on the curb with my back leaning against a lamppost. Do they know why Ashton showed up at Calum’s house party? Do they know it’s my fault that he drove that late at night? Do they know about the FaceTime call? Do they know that he died while I was angry at him? Throwing pillows and cursing at him. My last words to him were angry ones, saying that I didn’t want him to come back anymore, that I didn’t care.

And look what happened now?!

I angrily clutch my hands into fists and hit them hard on the road until the concrete starts to split open the ball of my hands.

It’s all my fault. If I hadn’t gotten mad at him he would still be here. If I hadn’t insisted on baking biscuits the car crash would’ve never happened. I know for a fact that the guys will hate me forever for what I’ve done. Anne-Marie will not allow me to attend his funeral. Oh god, I don’t even know if he wanted to be buried or cremated. Lauren and Harry don’t deserve to lose their brother, because his girlfriend is such a bitch.

Ex-girlfriend.

I jump up and start walking again trying to give my brain some air. Across the road a dimly lit playground appears, the night sky in combination with the swing set reminds me too much of Ashton to ignore. I sit down on the swing and let my fingers trail across the chain that holds the seat of the swing up. I push myself a little using my feet, the soft swinging calms me down a bit and I start going higher and higher, kicking my feet into the grass. I keep swinging and swinging the soft summer air ripping through my curls in the process and without thinking too much about it I let go. I let go and feel myself tumble through the air painfully colliding with the grass beneath me. The air gets knocked out of my lungs and I’m too scared to turn my face, because this time Ashton won’t be there smiling down on me, so instead I stare up to the stars and try to catch my breath, filling my lungs with oxygen. And I can’t help but feel guilty of that privilege, because I get to breathe. I have air circulating in my lungs and blood coursing through my veins and I feel guilty, because I get to have that and Ashton can’t.

And while lying here with tears starting to roll down my cheeks I can’t help that I don’t want all that. I don’t want my blood to keep pumping, I don’t want air feeding my body, feeding my brain and its horrendous thoughts. I don’t want to think. I want to close my eyes and forget, I want to sleep for eternity.

So I shut my eyes, hoping that all of this might stop, but as tears still slip out from under my closed eyelids I know they won’t. 

 

 

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alright guys. I'm sorry for dropping this bomb on you like this...

thanks for reading

your thoughts, comments, rants and hate mail for murdering ash can be left here xx. 

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