I know after a year of disappearing, all of you wanted a chapter in Obsession. Remember how almost everyone begged for an Ashely POV in Obsession and I kept gently telling everyone no in personal messages? Well, this was the reason. I planned a sequel/companionship to Obsession with Ashely's POV and her history. This is my apology.
A lot has happened in a year. Long story short, I started my career with a new demanding job plus some issues with a place to live, twice. And well, life took over with responsibilities and 16-hr days and unfortunately, writing took a backseat. I'm trying my hardest to find a balance and maybe now this will stick.
My sincerest apologies. I will try my hardest to update Obsession; in fact, I'm going to re-read the last chapter and start on it now.
Prologue - Numbness is a Beautiful Thing
Do you know what it's like to be high? It's like the movies, right? The thumping beats in the background, the awe-like big eyes, the blur of lights, and most importantly, at the beginning, you're aware but as time flies, you're just in the flow. Everything is fast-forward and you wake up with a hangover and blank slate of black that's supposed to be your short-term memories of the hours before. There's the sigh and the pain your body is putting you through for what you did to it last night. There's the wondering and the self-loathing bitch routine or just the not giving a fuck. Then life moves on and it's normal again.
It's nothing like the movies.
The movies got it somewhat right. In the beginning, on a drug-binge, it is the awe-inspiring big eyes. Everything is heightened. And you feel; you feel a multitude of things. The air, the music, the breath, whatever. You feel. But what the movies got wrong is the very fact that you're aware of what you're doing. I remember everything I do when I'm snorting that Snow White powder. The thing I'm feeling though, eternally, is numbness.
And that's the beauty of getting high.
You know exactly what you're doing and why you're doing it, but that numbness makes it okay. That numbness makes you feel the most. That numbness makes you the most honest thing in that exact moment.
As you can see, I think numbness is a beautiful thing. That's why I get high. I can be myself and do stupid shit, and it's me. It's who I am. These horrible mistakes I'm making? I know. The numbness makes it real and it allows me to feel. I pretend when I'm sober. I pretend I'm okay and that my life is perfect. But when I'm high, my true colors brightly show, and I just don't give a fuck.
I have numbness to thank for that.
My musing is over as the blond screams in my ear just so I could hear her husky slur over the pounding of the club bass. Ashley Benson. She just landed a coveted role in her career but I really don't care or give a fuck. She knows how to party and best, knows how to snort coke off my body that gets me in the mood to fuck. That's honestly all I care about.
"You sure about this?" She screams again.
Her hot breath gives me shivers and my flat stomach reacts the right way. My hazy eyes follow as the long white line that starts at my clavicle and ends at my waist line move up then down like a sexy roller coaster bump. None of powder deters from that perfect line. Goddamn, she lined that perfect. I can't anticipate any longer so I give her my famous smoldering look.
What I like most about Ashley is that she doesn't waste time. She immediately gets the clues and goes right for what I want from her. She leans in for the kiss and it's sloppy because I'm fucked up. The alcohol makes my stomach a little queasy but the lightness I feel from the copious amounts I drank in the last two hours does it's job. The coke counteracts any nausea that's building from the too much alcohol. Again, the numbness makes everything better. And so beautiful.
Ashley moans and I know she doesn't mind the kiss is sloppy. She's fucked up, too. So it shouldn't matter as long as her tongue ends up licking my slit. But I still deeply kiss her and as her mouth opens for a breather, my teeth catch her bottom lip and I bite. I don't let go and add more pressure until she hisses.
Because pain is another emotion.
It's a reminder; a reminder I don't need about my dead baby that my body couldn't carry but a reminder that everything else around me is real. Sometimes I get lost in the numbness and it's almost like a dream, although I'm aware this is truly happening. I'm about to get fucked by a "young hollywood" actress in Echo, a popular club hotspot for L.A.'s celebrity culture and known drug party locale. There's paparazzi outside, probably inside now just waiting for the troublemaker daughter of a rock legend to start another juicy scandal. And they're gonna get one. It all seems a little too dream-like. It's like something I would read in those trash rags. That's why sometimes I need to cause a little pain to make sure it's really happening.
"Damn girl," Ashley practically groans out.
I'm done with her talking.
"I want you to snort the coke," I say lowly against her cheek. "Snort all of it in one shot and fuck me for all the world to see."
I end my request with a long, almost animalistic, lick up the length of her cheek. And because I'm a biter, I nip her earlobe.
I hear her groan and her voice is a little muffled as I'm assuming she demands a straw from someone nearby. I'm not for sure what she does because my eyes are already closed and I adjust my shoulders against the plush furniture. A relaxing breath escapes me and I can't wait to get fucked.
It's the last relaxing thought I have tonight.
Everything else is a blur which really fucks up my philosophy of getting high. Yes, I remember everything. I remember every emotion that suddenly floods, the actions, the chain-reactions, and the most fucking ironic thing ever: it just happens to rain that night in L.A.
Rain in L.A. is like bad karma. Earthquakes, fine. No biggie. No one fucking flinches on an earthquake. It rains in L.A. and it's like the omen. It never happens so when it does, something bad happens. And something did.
If only I knew how much getting high could affect everyone around me.
I remember in the middle of Ashley snorting the coke off me, I hear commotion. My smear in my vision kind of recognizes the haziness of Dante's silhouette and his soft hands reaching for my forearms. I remember frowning because Dante never interrupts my partying.
Sure he runs a shady business but he always a had a gentle gaze for me. In a way, he looks out for me. There's always a sober driver for me at 6:00 a.m. curtesy of him. When I'm too fucked and can't exactly defend myself, the sleazy guys who try to take advantage mysteriously disappear and it's Dante somewhere in a corner who slightly bends his chin down when we make eye contact. He watches out for me, which is more than what I can say for some people.
I remember Dante's mouth moving but I can't hear words because the moment he reached for me, Ashley screams. Then multiple people are yelling, one of them, my father. The back of Ashley's hair is in his vice-like grip and she's defenseless as her arms move back to his arm holding her. He turns them around and unceremoniously shoves her away from me. Then Dante is shoved by him and it's his rough hands on my forearms now. He squeezes but he's not rough but his voice says different. I don't bother hearing his tirade to the group of people around us. I'm focused on my screaming at him.
Then there was the rain pounding on my skin. I remember the shock of it all. The coldness almost makes me sober and I realize why I don't like the rain. There's more yelling, bright white lights that leave dazzling white spots in front of me and I'm temporarily dazed. It stops my fighting against my dad's grip long enough for him to shove me in the passenger side of his SUV. There's more yelling; they're like stupid questions and lights keep going off. And for a brief second, I start to maybe like the white spots in front of me then the white stuff flowing in my blood stream. I'm still getting the effective numbness even if my dad is a major buzzkill.
There's honking, a lot of honking and more yelling. Then it's just me and my dad. The yelling never stopped and I never noticed the heavy raindrops practically giving a rhythmic doosh on the windshield or the power of the windshield wipers desperately trying to make a clear path of vision. All I'm focused on is the fact my father ruined my night and I was going to make him pay for it.
We're both screaming at each other and I'm surprised I'm able to string a coherent thought full of cuss words without hesitating or using filler words. He's equally as eloquent as I am in his arguments. We're going back and forth and I'm not paying attention to how fast the car is going or the fact that it fogged up in the car. I'm not even noticing the white lights are back. They're against my profile and I see it my peripheral but what's more important was how much I hated my father at this moment.
"You're 15!" He would scream.
"I don't give a fuck!" I would scream back. "Since when did you care I've been doing this? The past ten months you were on tour. You sure as fucking hell did care then!"
"I've always cared!"
Back and forth we go. I accuse his lack of concern due to his career. He would counter back that he did stupid things but he is a parent and he is going to start acting like one. This time things are different. He is going to be there. I said it was a load of shit.
"I'm your father, Ashley!" He screamed over me. "Whether you like it or not, I am here. I'm going to be here for you. Always. And we're starting with getting you help. I love you and I'm going to be here for now on."
It is the last thing he says before the wheel violently turns and he tries to overpower it. There's the screech of tires against wet pavement and we're gliding. There's metal crunching and glass breaking all over my skin and the prickles I usually feel aren't the same and sure as hell is not as welcomed. There's screaming and I remember my heart spiking because for once in my high, I felt fear instead of numbness. I remember something slicing my back and the anguished yelp that escapes my mouth, following by a bone somewhere below me cracking. The taste of blood followed by the lurking black that appears on and off in my vision.
There's a horn honking but it's distant. Everything stops but the one thing that's constant was the last thing I screamed at my father before all this happened.
It was like a loop and my numbness was starting to fade. I didn't like it at all; my numbness starting to fade…
I want it back, but what I want most of all, is to erase what I said.
"I hate you!"
End of Prologue.