"sometimes things have to get bad, even the worst, before it can get better"

                           It had been months since her mom had died. Months since Sean had been born. Months of bottled up emotions. Months since she had stepped into her moms room again. Months of getting to know Spencer. Months of watching life go on around her. Months of hidden emotions, that she not so skillfully hid. It was all coming down around her. She refused to deal with the things behind the door, she refused to get help, to sleep to let anyone in. She was starting to have a family again, with baby Sean, Clay, Chelsea and most importantly with Spencer. It was finally her breaking point, after all these months, after finally bending till she breaks this was the moment that started the events the finally made Ashley realize she wasn’t a person she remotely wanted to be. Today her dad had finally called, finally gave his two cents in on the situation. Said his peace about her mothers death. Finally made Ashley break. She had answered the phone and before she could say hello he was throwing figures at her, how much the funeral cost, how much he was going to send her a month. Not once giving a damn about her moms death, not once asking if she was ok, or if she’s doing fine, it was all figures and numbers, like people, compassion didn’t exist. And she had, had it. And when he asked if she was still taking care of that ‘nigger’ and her bastard child, she was taking no more.

------ “ Go to Hell dad, go to hell….she is more of a fucking family then you will ever be. Keep your damn money I don’t need it, nor do I want it…Love isn’t a fucking business transaction, and as far as I’m concerned we’re through… do what you do best and walk away… I’m going to make my mom proud and I want you to know that its going to have nothing to do with you. Have a nice life.”

                            Ashley hung up. Over and over slamming the phone into the receiver over and over. Her knuckles where white from her grip on the phone, as she kept slamming the phone. She ripped the jack out of the wall and threw the phone against the wall, and when that didn’t suffice her anger she kicked it and then jumped on it, she didn’t let up her assault until the phone was in tiny pieces imbedded in the living room carpet. Ashley grabbed her car keys and huffed out of the house slamming the door and jerking the drivers side door open. She knew she shouldn’t be driving. She was worked up, there wasn’t a limb on her body that wasn’t shaking, but she couldn’t be in that house anymore she needed to get away. This was it after all of the months of running from everything it was finally all crashing down on her. She just drove for hours she was suppose to be at the ball field, working, doing something, but here she is driving up hours late. Missed calls of people who were worried, who have probably seen the mess she left of a phone. She sat there in the parking spot, she didn’t feel better, in fact the more she drove the angrier she felt. She was still shaking from the events that had unfolded form before, she couldn’t breath, her chest was tight and if she would just let herself go she would probably cry for days. At the rate she was going, she was making herself sick, dizzy with anger, but not letting herself go, refusing to feel vulnerable, refusing to revert back to feeling so lost. Pushing it aside as the anger took over her body. that’s when she saw it. Some guy forcefully pushing a familiar blond into the girls bathroom. On autopilot she followed. She heard Spencer say no forcefully, there where cries, whimpers and that’s all it took, that’s all she remembered before she grabbed the guy off of Spencer and slung him into the wall. The nameless, steroid injecting, jackass came back at her, but she swiftly hit him in his face again. She had so much adrenaline pumping through her veins, so much anger she didn’t even know what was happening. She was on top of the guy, punching his face repeatedly. Much like the phone. Punch after punch. She was blind, she couldn’t feel, she just swung one after another. She didn’t hear Spencer’s pleas to stop, she didn’t see Chelsea enter the bathroom, she didn’t see anything but the pain she had bottled up, she didn’t see the nameless guy that probably deserved a few hits, but she didn’t stop, not for anything. Her hits were violent and messy but she hit him every time. Her hands were bloody but she didn’t stop.