I'll never have kids...
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She imagined herself as Pandora, the Greek goddess. Nobody knew she was carrying a box of troubles with her at all times, but she knew. One of those items was a gun. Ashlyn had finally got a gun. Now, all she had to do was accomplish her last thing. She just needed something in her life that made her feel alive. She never wanted to live, even if she did get a better life. It always seemed like life wasn't worth living.

The weekly visits to the court, then doing the same shit again, trying to live. Almost every drug out there has been taken into her body. That was her one escape. Heroine. Long sleeves hid the needle marks, and not even Xiana knew about her Heroine addiction. She barely knew about it herself. Ashlyn thought she could put the needle down whenever.

She wanted to move up from just weed and Heroine to coke, and Molly. She needed to be hardcore. She always remembered what her brother once told her.

"Any motherfucking coward can sell drugs, any bitch nigga with a gun can bust slugs, and any bitch with a red shirt can fight like a blood. But, only a real thug can stab someone till they die, standing in front of them, and looking straight in their eyes."

Ashlyn always remembered the time when her mother was raped, then killed. The same night, her brother commit suicide. She wondered how this had happened. Her mother wasn't even found till 3 days later. Ashlyn wanted to find out, but instead never tried.

She lays in Luke's bed, his arm under her, and his other arm hanging limply off the bed. She slowly moved over to her purse, pulling out her brand new .22. She wrapped her hand around the handle, squeezing it. She exhaled, cocking the gun to her temple. She smiled, tilting her head up. She felt nice to have death in her hand. She felt a gentle pull away from her head. An arm wrapped around her torso, and worked the gun our of her hand, and felt lips on her shoulder.

Silent tears slipped onto her cheeks, and the arms pulled her back, where her head rested against the white washed wall.

"Shh..." Luke soothed her speeding heart. She wanted her brains to be smeared on the wall right now, her body cold and pale.

"I wanna die." She sobbed quietly, his eyes made contact with the gun. Luke couldn't think straight. It's a brand new .22, the gun that once changed him and his best mate's life. His hairs stood straight up on the back of his neck.

"You have a self destructive destiny when you're inflicted and you'll be one of God's children that fell from the top. There's no diversity because we're burning in the melting pot. So when the devil wants to dance with you, you better say never, cause the dance with the devil might last you forever." Luke whispered softly in her ear. Tears filled in his eyes as he remembered the memory. He cringed, making Ashlyn pull out of his grip.

"What's wrong, Luke?"

"Nothing, I just... a bad memory." Luke rolled over, letting the tears drip. He knew the devil was with him every where that he went, and he didn't want Ashlyn to dance with the devil as well.

Notes

Sorry for the slow updates, so much drama in my life that I hate. I hope you enjoy this!
You'll find out more about Luke's memory with the .22, and his small speech about dancing with the devil ;)