Nothing Left to Lose
Page 187
Within ten minutes, my muscles were screaming at me to stop, my breath was coming out in pants and sweat ran down my neck and back. I knew that Ashton didn’t like me to run like this… but Ashton wasn’t here right now, and I didn’t want to keep thinking about Jack and how he should have been twenty today. I didn’t want to think about how he should be half way into his medical degree, or how he probably would have joined the college football team. I didn’t want to think about the fact that he was gone and that it was entirely my fault. I sped up a little on the treadmill, running as fast as I could to block out the grief and the thoughts that were trying to pull me under, but this time I was unable to outrun my problems.
When my knees wobbled and I almost fell, I knew it was time to give up. As I slowed down to a walk, I gasped for breath, pulling at the neck of my T-shirt because it felt tight all of a sudden. Once the treadmill came to a standstill, my legs gave way and I slumped to my knees heavily. Instantly, my whole body hurt and my leg muscles cramped and seized. Pressing my forehead to the floor, I gritted my teeth against the pain, gripping my thighs as tears slid down my face and fell onto the floor.
“Shit,” I hissed.
“You okay, Baby Girl?” Ashton asked suddenly, reaching out to rub my back and legs.
I jumped and let out a little squeal because I hadn’t realised that he was in the room. “Shit, it hurts so much!” I hissed through my teeth, unable to move from the little ball on the floor that I’d curled into. He sighed and continued to massage my thighs. After a few minutes, I twisted my head to the side to look at him. The sad and disappointed look on his face made my heart sink and guilt twist in my gut. The disappointed look on his face was so much worse than the disapproving scowl that usually followed one of my intense sessions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I apologised. I hadn’t walked into the gym planning on running like that, I’d just needed a distraction and my old habits and coping methods had taken over.
Ashton nodded sadly. “I know. It’s okay; I know why you did it.”
“Please don’t look at me like that, I can’t stand it,” I begged, feeling my chin tremble as I looked away from him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He let out another heavy sigh as he tugged on my hand and tried to pull me into his lap. I shook my head in protest. “I can’t I’m all sweaty.”
He laughed incredulously as a playful smirk slipped onto his face. “I like you sweaty,” he replied, tugging on my arm again. “Just do as you’re told for once and come here.”
I sniffed, swiping at the tears that were now falling down my face and complied with his request, manoeuvring myself into his lap and setting my head on his chest as his arms engulfed me. His hands resumed massaging my thighs softly.
“Are you okay? You want me to run you a bath or something?” he offered.
I lifted my head, looking into his caring eyes. “Why are you not shouting at me for doing that?”
He sighed, his forehead lined with a frown. “Anna, I understand why you do it. You haven’t done it for so long so something must really be bothering you.”
I closed my eyes, not being able to look at his face anymore. “I was just thinking about Jack’s birthday. He would have been twenty today.” He pulled me closer to his chest, wiping the sweat from my forehead, but not saying anything. When I opened my eyes, I saw that same disappointed expression on his face. My chin trembled, and I silently wished he’d just shout at me, it would be easier. “Please don’t keep looking at me like that. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” I promised, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes.
“Looking at you like what?” he asked, confused.
I shook my head. “Like you’re disappointed. It’s not nice to see, I can’t stand it.”
“I am disappointed, Anna,” he replied, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
A lump formed in my throat at his admission. “I know, I’m sorry.” I turned my face into his T-shirt, trying to block out the sight of his face.
“I’m not disappointed in you, Baby Girl. I’m disappointed in myself,” he said sadly.
I snapped my head up to look at him. Disappointed in himself? What on earth does that mean? “What? Why?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I try to make you happy, I try to help you, I try to stop you hurting so badly that the only release is for you to kill yourself through exercise. I try, but I’m just not good enough,” he stated, looking at me apologetically.
Disbelief almost made me gawk at him. He honestly thought he wasn’t good enough to stop me hurting? I sat up, shocked, and looked at him in disbelief. How could this boy, who had saved my life and made me live again, possibly think that he wasn’t good enough?
“Ashton, seriously, what the hell are you talking about? Not good enough? Are you crazy? If it wasn’t for you, I would be hiding in one of the bedrooms in the White House, expelled from yet another school, screaming myself awake every night, afraid to let anyone near me, wearing baggy clothes, and drawing pictures which, quite frankly, scare the shit out of me. I didn’t have a life before you, I had an existence, and I didn’t even want that,” I admitted, blurting out more of my feelings than I had ever done before.
His hand closed over mine as I unconsciously started pinching the skin on the inside of my elbow. “But you still won’t talk to me, Anna. You’d still rather come down here and make your whole body hurt, rather than talking through your feelings with me,” he explained, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.
When my knees wobbled and I almost fell, I knew it was time to give up. As I slowed down to a walk, I gasped for breath, pulling at the neck of my T-shirt because it felt tight all of a sudden. Once the treadmill came to a standstill, my legs gave way and I slumped to my knees heavily. Instantly, my whole body hurt and my leg muscles cramped and seized. Pressing my forehead to the floor, I gritted my teeth against the pain, gripping my thighs as tears slid down my face and fell onto the floor.
“Shit,” I hissed.
“You okay, Baby Girl?” Ashton asked suddenly, reaching out to rub my back and legs.
I jumped and let out a little squeal because I hadn’t realised that he was in the room. “Shit, it hurts so much!” I hissed through my teeth, unable to move from the little ball on the floor that I’d curled into. He sighed and continued to massage my thighs. After a few minutes, I twisted my head to the side to look at him. The sad and disappointed look on his face made my heart sink and guilt twist in my gut. The disappointed look on his face was so much worse than the disapproving scowl that usually followed one of my intense sessions. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” I apologised. I hadn’t walked into the gym planning on running like that, I’d just needed a distraction and my old habits and coping methods had taken over.
Ashton nodded sadly. “I know. It’s okay; I know why you did it.”
“Please don’t look at me like that, I can’t stand it,” I begged, feeling my chin tremble as I looked away from him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. He let out another heavy sigh as he tugged on my hand and tried to pull me into his lap. I shook my head in protest. “I can’t I’m all sweaty.”
He laughed incredulously as a playful smirk slipped onto his face. “I like you sweaty,” he replied, tugging on my arm again. “Just do as you’re told for once and come here.”
I sniffed, swiping at the tears that were now falling down my face and complied with his request, manoeuvring myself into his lap and setting my head on his chest as his arms engulfed me. His hands resumed massaging my thighs softly.
“Are you okay? You want me to run you a bath or something?” he offered.
I lifted my head, looking into his caring eyes. “Why are you not shouting at me for doing that?”
He sighed, his forehead lined with a frown. “Anna, I understand why you do it. You haven’t done it for so long so something must really be bothering you.”
I closed my eyes, not being able to look at his face anymore. “I was just thinking about Jack’s birthday. He would have been twenty today.” He pulled me closer to his chest, wiping the sweat from my forehead, but not saying anything. When I opened my eyes, I saw that same disappointed expression on his face. My chin trembled, and I silently wished he’d just shout at me, it would be easier. “Please don’t keep looking at me like that. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” I promised, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes.
“Looking at you like what?” he asked, confused.
I shook my head. “Like you’re disappointed. It’s not nice to see, I can’t stand it.”
“I am disappointed, Anna,” he replied, closing his eyes and shaking his head.
A lump formed in my throat at his admission. “I know, I’m sorry.” I turned my face into his T-shirt, trying to block out the sight of his face.
“I’m not disappointed in you, Baby Girl. I’m disappointed in myself,” he said sadly.
I snapped my head up to look at him. Disappointed in himself? What on earth does that mean? “What? Why?”
He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up on end. “I try to make you happy, I try to help you, I try to stop you hurting so badly that the only release is for you to kill yourself through exercise. I try, but I’m just not good enough,” he stated, looking at me apologetically.
Disbelief almost made me gawk at him. He honestly thought he wasn’t good enough to stop me hurting? I sat up, shocked, and looked at him in disbelief. How could this boy, who had saved my life and made me live again, possibly think that he wasn’t good enough?
“Ashton, seriously, what the hell are you talking about? Not good enough? Are you crazy? If it wasn’t for you, I would be hiding in one of the bedrooms in the White House, expelled from yet another school, screaming myself awake every night, afraid to let anyone near me, wearing baggy clothes, and drawing pictures which, quite frankly, scare the shit out of me. I didn’t have a life before you, I had an existence, and I didn’t even want that,” I admitted, blurting out more of my feelings than I had ever done before.
His hand closed over mine as I unconsciously started pinching the skin on the inside of my elbow. “But you still won’t talk to me, Anna. You’d still rather come down here and make your whole body hurt, rather than talking through your feelings with me,” he explained, rubbing his thumb over the back of my hand.
