"Good morning, sleeping beauty." The voice was wry and made his head hurt just to hear it. When Ash opened his eyes, he looked up at Ivory and because he's an amazing person, he had the blinds closed, and minimal light on. He sat beside the bed Ash lay on and Ash had the presence of mind to realize it was his guest bed.
Ash vaguely remembered deciding to go to his house, to tell him... everything. He remembered how the doorman hadn't let him up to his apartment, how Ivory had been forced to come down to get him. He remembered staggering when he did, so that Ivory had to catch him before he fell, remembered his whispered, "What the hell? Are you high and drunk, Ash?"
And then he remembered answering, "I killed dad, Ivy. Do you think she was my punishment for doing it?"
Ash flinched at the memory. "Well, shit."
Ivory chuckled lightly. "Here, man. Drink this and take these." He held out a bottle of Powerade and two pills. One Ash recognized as an aspirin and the other he glanced at warily.
"Um, what's that one?"
"Well, since you're already down the experimental drug route, I thought a light dose of that might help you out for the conversation we're getting ready to have. It's a tranquilizer, little brother, because you have some answers to give me."
Ash sighed and sat up in the bed, wondering how it came to be that he was in Ivory's hands while he took care of him for once.
Usually, Ash had ended up with Ivory sleeping in the back of Sulfur's, collapsed after he was on some emo shit from how dark he liked to play.
Always before, it was Ash waking him up with gentle words of how nothing was wrong with him, and how he obviously had a conscience.
And now here Ash was. In his guest room. And oh God, the door guy. He drained the Powerade, took the aspirin and light dose tranquilizer. "So how does this stuff feel? The OxyContin last night was super weird. Does this do the same thing?"
He laughed. "You know, it's questions like that one that made me the most scared about what happened last night. I have never seen you take a single drug, or pick up so much as a beer. Not one, Ash. What did you end up drinking, by the way? Whatever it was, you sucked at handling it."
Ash flinched. "Yeah. It was whatever stuff you drink. It tasted like hell."
He leaned back with a grin. "Only if you're not used to fucking liquor, little brother."
Ash stared at him and then down at his hands. "Oh. Oh, that's what this stuff feels like. How fascinating. I imagine this would be more addictive than the painkillers, for most people. All the emotions are dulled out and easier."
"Great, now I can play psychologist. So what happened to you as a kid, Ash? This might shock you, but it was very easy for me to believe that you killed dad. I didn't know him, but I know you, and I know that you have always seemed hollow or something. No one can ever look you in the eyes for long, because there's something missing. So, when you said that in a drunken haze, it was pretty easy to believe you. What happened, Ash? I'm your fucking brother. Whatever it is, I'm going to take your side. And, while we're at it, who is the 'she' you keep talking about?"
Ash opened his mouth and the words just started. The walls were gone now and it felt like he had shed a skin. It felt kind of like a wound that was scabbed over and accidentally been ripped open again.
It was a feeling that hurt like hell and felt raw, but also felt kind of good. The sensation from the tranquilizer made everything easier, and once it started pouring out, it was like a dam bursting wide.
He told the whole horror story, about a father who had a, shall we say, illegitimate job. He told about the late night drives across state lines that seemed innocuous, told about the way violence seemed to flood like a poison into their dad, told how his boss liked him that way and encouraged it.
He told about how he was turned more and more mean, like a dog pushed into brutality, told about how Ash never really blamed him. No, Ash always felt a deep sadness and fear of him, for how he was so volatile and so unstable.
Alcohol was his best friend first and foremost, which probably had bearing on why Ash wouldn't touch most substances, for fear of losing control. He told about his first pet puppy and how it had been killed in a rage.
And he told about how he finally turned old enough to realize what the late night drives were, finally turned old enough to realize that the drunken violence was going to end his life if he didn't do something and do it quickly.
The breaking point was when he fell out of favor with his boss, and every second was torture. Russians were not exactly the most trusted, and he had done one too many drugs, so the paranoia made him into a screaming nightmare.
Killing him had always felt more like a mercy than anything else. Ash had done it silently, when he was asleep one night. It was only after Ash realized he had talked himself into the thought of murdering him, before someone else got to him.
Ash didn't know that he ever would have done it, but he did know his mother's sudden disappearance wasn't innocuous, so he might have been capable of it by that time.
The act had definitely broken something in Ash, definitely made him realize that he had done something akin to selling his soul. Murder was the ultimate disconnect from humanity, even when done in desperation.
No one would ever know or suspect that it was him, given his dad's known past affiliations. No, all anyone found was a traumatized teenage boy who was quiet, but brilliant.
Ash kept his head down in all things, and played the victim card for the first and last time in his life. And he made a deal with himself.
Ash had broken a rather terrible legal line and there was a danger in doing that. Like any depravity, it would be so easy the second time and a time after that.
He had gotten away with it and that feeling was, horrifically, pretty powerful. So he swore he'd be good. He never felt much of anything anymore and it was easy to get through life.
And at that part Ash smiled ruefully, while Ivory and he took another drink from a bottle together. This time, Ash was in moderation with it. Ivory watched him and tilted his head at the change in his expression.
"It wouldn't be much of a story if I got to keep that control, I suppose. Maybe you can guess what happens next, based on what you've heard. I met her."
"Holy shit." The second time it was Ivory's turn to say it. Somewhere in the middle of talking, they had ended up on his balcony. They hadn't drank much, and Ash especially hadn't with the tranquilizer he had taken.
He wanted enough sensibility to finish the story and Ivory turned out to be correct. Moderation was a good word.
"Fuck me, Ash, why the fuck wouldn't you tell me this? You've been through, like, actual hell."
***