Chapter Text
You and Ash pull up to a rather large house. It was familiar since you've passed it a few times. It was a little rugged, a soft yellow was painted on the house. You sit there, processing what you had seen that day. It slowly sank in. You look to Ash, partially expecting him to say something. "I-uh, my dad's not home. We should wash up before he gets back. I don't need any more shit from him." Ash says, he then steps out of the car.
You follow Ash to the house. Before you walk in, a passing kid yells "Ashy Slashy's gonna get you!". You turn back, seeing the kid laughing on his bike. A ball of guilt builds up in your chest. You're quick to follow Ash into his home.
The house was dusty, dark, and a bit humid. From the outside, the house looked quite large but it was much more cramped than you expected. To be honest, you expected Ash to be living alone by now. You couldn't quite gauge is age, but he wasn't much older than you. He must be around 24, maybe 25? You decided to discontinue your judgement of him. He probably had a hard time getting to where he is now.
You continued to follow the boy as he led you up the stairs, down a hall, and into his bedroom. His room was small but made sense for what teenage Ash must've been like. A double bed was pushed into a corner, posters of classic movies and half-naked women lazily hung on the walls, different items that are usually given out at highschool games.
"Nice room." you complement. How long has it been since he's been In here with anyone else? Ash was looking through his closet, pulling out a t-shirt and throwing it onto the bed. He took another moment to look for a pair of pants. Ash looked to you, then to his closet. None of his pants would fit. "Thanks," Ash said, "so, there's a small problem. I'm pretty sure none of my pants would fit you comfortably. Are you okay with these?" he pulled out a pair of boxers. You looked at him, then the boxers. Well, it could be worse. You nod.
"Thank you," you say. He throws the boxers next to the shirt.
"It's no problem, I don't want you to get into any sort of trouble. I'm gonna get you a towel." Ash left the room. You were there alone for a moment, looking around his room. He had a box full of old tapes, many of which had labels written in Sharpie. It wasn't long until the blood-stained boy came back with a fresh towel in his hands, cautious to avoid getting blood on it. You gratefully take the towel and then the clothes that were provided.
"Bathroom's at the end of the hall."
"Thanks again."
You leave the room, making your way down the dark hallway and into the bathroom. The bathroom was also small, but nice. You set the clothes on the white marble sink and the towel on the rack next to the shower, soon closing the door behind you. There wasn't any kind of lock, so the closed door was the best you were going to get. You start the shower, occasionally feeling the water as it slowly heated up. You then soon stripped of your bloody clothes and stepped in. The warm water was refreshing, spraying off the caked-on blood. The dark red soon becoming liquid once more and mixing with the water as it swirled down the drain. You look for some soap, only to be met with whatever manly scents that Ash probably used. So, you use that.
You kept the shower short, knowing that Ash also had to clean up. Once you were sure you were clean of the gore, you hopped out and got dressed. You carried your blood-stained work uniform down the hall, going back to Ash's room. You came back to see him cradling his chainsaw, cleaning it the best he could. He didn't make any effort.
"Where should I put these?" you ask.
Ash looked up at you, his lips parted. You could see him physically gulp out of nervousness. "There should be a basket in the closet," he said. You did as he said, throwing your clothes into a hamper that harboured the boy's other clothes. It seemed almost out of nowhere when Ash handed you the chainsaw and said, "Clean this, would ya'?". He had a goofy smile on his face, knowing you'd do much better when it came to cleaning the power tool. You took it and he left the room.
You sat on the bed, the spot warm from where he was sitting. Taking the rag he was using, you begin to go to town on the chainsaw. You listen closely to the water running through the pipes. There's no way Ash would be able to bring anyone over without his dad knowing what they were up to.
The front door opened, then closed.
You felt your anxiety bubble up in your stomach as footsteps go up the stairs and a man's voice yell, "Goddammit, Ashley!". You soon met eyes with an older man. He had stark white hair and a strong chin. Ash looked like his father, rather much younger and with high cheekbones rather than wrinkles. It was quiet until "Who the fuck are you? What the fuck are you doin' in my house?! You murderin' people too?" the man accused. Suddenly the water in the pipes stopped. You began, struggling for words, "No- I- your son saved me.". The man looked at you, his brows furrowed, lips parted. The bathroom door down the hall creaked open and hurried footsteps approached the door.
"Dad, get out."
Ashley's father left the doorway, glancing over his shoulder to his son. Ash walked in, buttoning up his shirt. "Sorry, he's an old fart. Don't mind him," he said, taking a seat next to you. You look to Ash, the chainsaw resting in your lap. Only the very end of it was clean. It hadn't been cleaned in years. You chuckled quietly, glancing away for a second.
"Ash," you start
"Yes?"
"Are you okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"People here treat you like shit, Ash. You can't think that this is okay. I'm sorry no one believes you after all this time, even after what just happened. Some kids were yelling 'Ashy Slashy'. What the fuck?"
It was silent for a moment. You could tell that Ash had been through so much and no one believes him. Ash only looked down, sniffling quietly. You put the chainsaw down, immediately wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a hug. Ash wrapped only one arm around you, his hand pressing on your back and pulling you close. You couldn't tell if the sudden wetness on your shoulder was from his wet hair, or if he was actually crying. It felt like hours until Ash pulled away.
"Lets blow this fuckin' town," Ash said.