Go Suck an Egg

well, ashley has quite a fear of the dark . do you feel bad for her?

It was only natural that Ashley would have more questions than she ever would answers, a notion consistently proven as their dialogue transpired; yet where other’s might grow impatient and potentially annoyed, the High Prosecutor would show sympathy and compassion despite her parent’s ego within her, “To put it into simple terms, a year down here is about twenty up on Earth; it will seem longer than it actually is, but your sentence should be finished before you know it.”

Justice would shuffle around more papers, organizing them in a fashion that would prove presentable to her boss upon later submission, “You’re gonna need to come back and pay us a visit once a week during your probation, pretty standard like it would be up there on Earth.” there was a slight laxation in how she was phrasing thing at this point, yet not to the point where any sort of professionalism would be sacrificed or tarnished in whatever capacity they could have been.

“Don’t sweat it too much, Miss Brown, you’ll come to find Hell to be awesome and better than Earth in time.” with that statement, the woman would close the other’s file, her attention fully back towards that of Ashley.

There’s the slightest twinge of anger yet wonder at the conceptualization of twenty years. She never even reached that age on earth, just two years shy. Under the river, will she have to fight it, feel the water fill her lungs over and over again? Will she sink to the bottom and look up, harmless as a dove, watching Hell pass by above her as the river she’d just been down takes more souls? Twenty years, two past her time on earth, yet she’ll never age. 

Hell certainly doesn’t seem as fire-and-brimstone as people describe it. As a matter of fact, none of the major world religions seem to have gotten it right. ❛Thank you,❜ is all she can think to say, wiping the tears from her dried face. She feels none of the hunger she felt before, none of the exhaustion. Perhaps that’s an indication that the physical pain, if any, will be minimal. Perhaps it’ll be a time to reflect. 

The concept of eternal life is certainly strange, but perhaps her tragic, short life on earth will be more fulfilling here. ❛Will my mother be okay?❜

The High Prosecutor would sit there in respect, letting the woman take as much time as she possibly could need to answer the question and wrestle with the emotions she was no doubt undergoing… Justice may have the arrogance of youth, but she did still have a heart.

Remorse seemed to easily coat every syllable that left Ashley’s mouth, speaking the language of honesty was something very valued in Hell and this woman was doing it fluently, “Ashley…” Justice dropped some of the formality, hoping it would bring the other woman some semblance of ease, “…You seem genuine, and I find that awesome, which is why I am going to designate you to Circle 5 housing after you spend one year beneath the surface of the River Styx, once you reach your housing you are on probation for the next 100 years and will be reevaluated by the High Prosecutor based on your behavior.”

Reaching over, the demon would take a sip from her water before meeting the gaze of Ashley once more, “This is a fairly light sentence that takes the context and your remorse into consideration and is deemed finalized. Do you have any questions?”

A light sentence. She tries to reassure herself, to stop the incessant shaking. She can’t pretend she’s cold anymore, she’s in Hell. At least it’s somewhat of a relief from subzero Canadian Februaries. The legal system on Earth is complicated, and who’d have known a supernatural place had something so similar? 

The drop in formality doesn’t escape her. It’s the same sympathetic tone the judge had when granting her mother’s protective order against her father. It brings a semblance of the same comfort of her mother squeezing her hand. But she can’t think about her mother for too long - she’s not going to be able to reassure her of anything. She’d find out somehow about the way her daughter perished. Thinking of Jamie Brown’s anguished screams pains her already. 

              ❝ It’s not like that, Ash. ❞ Sam said, offering a sympathetic smile. ❝ I want to; I want this, I’m just… scared. Feels like we’ve lost too many people to start anything sometimes. Josh, Beth, Hannah, Chris, the list keeps growing and I don’t know if I can handle one more. ❞

              Sam crosses her legs on the chair as she feels one of her calves begin to tingle from her foot falling asleep. She tries to focus on her word choice, knowing what they have was delicate, even if Ashley was being patient with her. Sam knew she’d been hot and cold; it had to be obnoxious, even if she did understand why.

             ❝ Maybe Amy Winehouse had it right when she said love is a losing game. ❞

              Matching traumas didn’t exactly make for a good first step in a flirtationship like theirs. And although Sam knew she’d had the faintest glimpses of a future with Ashley, she couldn’t help wondering if she should even bother thinking about the unknown. Squeezing Ashley’s hand, she takes another slow sip of wine and thinks for a moment.

              ❝ Or maybe I need to stop thinking so much, ❞ she chuckles darkly. ❝ What we have is good. You’re right. You usually are. We don’t need all the answers, just need to take it a day at a time. I just get in my head, you know? I worry now. A lot more than I used to. ❞

She looks into her wine glass, absentmindedly swirling the liquid, before glancing back towards the blonde, gazing upon her tanned face. The only face that provides her solace nowadays. Perhaps they, too, were doomed, but she couldn’t think on that now. ❛Me too,❜ Ashley admits. ❛And I know we’ve lost so many people. We have. But...if I have any power over it, I’m not going anywhere.❜ 

Squeezing back in reassurance, a smile grows on Ashley’s rosy features. ❛One day at a time,❜ the redhead reminds Sam, echoing what her therapist had taught her. ❛All we can really do now is put one foot in front of the other. Even if it is a losing game, I would kick myself if I never tried. I can’t let fear rule my life anymore.❜ She sighs, grazing her thumb over Sam’s palm. Uncertainty makes her stomach churn, but there’s nothing else to do here. 

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea– That’s all he was thinking when she finally started to actually sew him up. He didn’t think she’d actually do it! And, shit, he didn’t think it’d hurt worse than being nearly sawed in half! But, fuck, too late now! And to say he screamed, that would be an understatement. In there howling like some banshee. Surprised that alone wasn’t enough to get Sam, or anyone to come running. Wasn’t Mike and Jess out here somewhere? The cabin wasn’t that far away!

Didn’t matter. Because as fast as she started (well… kind of), she was gone. She left him there on the ground. Bleeding to death. Well– it slowed up. But now he was just slowly bleeding to death. On the cold floor of the shed. What a weird turn of events. He couldn’t even be mad! He deserved it. He always deserved it. He didn’t blame her for leaving.

It didn’t register when she came back to him. He didn’t even hear her speak at first, just staring blankly. He doesn’t know if it’s from the blood loss, the withdrawal, or his own fucking addled head. But eventually the words hit him, and he whimpered a little. “ ‘m tired, Ash–”

She feels like she’s going to choke on the lump on her throat, face dry and raw from the cold and her tears. They need to somehow get inside, actually inside to where there’s heat, but Ashley definitely isn’t strong enough to carry him back on her own. They’re both going to die out here, and would Chris even make it to find the radio tower with the blizzard? 

❛I know you are,❜ she says, moving to hold his head in her lap so he can be somewhat more comfortable. ❛Just- just hold on.❜ It doesn’t even register when Emily and Matt are back, nor when they help to get the pair to the lodge.  Ashley’s legs feel like Jell-O, and the shaky walk back to the cabin seems like it goes on for miles. A deathly pallor casts her face, relieved by the warmth of the cabin.

She’s not a doctor! Of course he knows that! He does– he’s not either! He’s just sat here, bleeding out on the shed floor. Ashley asking him a bunch of stupid questions when the only thing he can think about is the fact that it feels like all his organs are going to spill out onto the floor. Which, okay, yeah, the cut isn’t that deep, but it’s so gnarly in there. Fat and even the littlest bit of muscle bulging out under his fingertips. It’s so fucked.

“Just– just– Please–” He doesn’t even know what he’s asking for now. He’s woozy, which is an odd feeling when you know you’re just lying on the floor. He’s just sobbing, now. Wracking, horrible things that shake and rattle his chest, stomach heaving with it. He can’t remember the last time he cried like this– probably when they called off the search for Hannah and Beth.

He already forgot about the body double. Why they were here. It washes over him in waves, but gone as quick as he came. Hell, he’s having trouble thinking about his own name right now. But– yeah, he should warn her. “Don’t– don’t go near it–” because it stinks. It reeks of death and old meat, whatever it is that pig guts smell like. Which is to say: not good. But he also knows he threw it together so fast that even just the odd touch could send everything falling out. What a sight to behold.

Hopefully the cameras are still rolling.

“Tired. Tired– please, just–” his hands are starting to fall off the wound. It felt like he had just taken laughing gas– or some of his stronger meds. His body was just… tired. Not working. Hmm. “Push. Push.”

❛I- I don’t want to make it worse, Josh!❜ She doesn’t want to look. She really fucking doesn’t want to look at anything, but she has to see what she’s doing. God, it’s dark in here. It’s so dark, even with that dim light overhead, and she shakes. She hates this so much. She should’ve just stayed home. So much for curling up by the fire with a nice book. 

Wincing, she ties the knot at the end, and tries to suture him up, hesitant to poke the thing through his skin and hurt him. ❛A-are you ready?❜ She pushes through, trying to the best of her ability to sew him up. They aren’t exactly the neatest sutures, and oh, it still looks awful. Sam would know what to do. Where is she? Is she still in that goddamn bathtub?

Ashley feels a bile rising in her mouth, the thing she’d been suppressing for the past ten minutes now that Josh is sewn up shoddily. Shoving her hoodie back to his side and placing his hand there, she  runs to open the gate and hurl the last of her dinner up into the snow, coughing. Much better. 

Shuffling through more paperwork, the High Prosecutor would eventually come to the documents she had been looking for and began reading their contents, “Yeah, they are both here in Hell and have already been processed and sentenced; I’m not allowed to give you the specifics though, so I hope you understand.” setting the documents down, Justice would meet the gaze of the other woman once more, “As for your punishment, that all depends on you and whether I think you are truly remorseful or not…”

The demon would trail off, leaning forward and shifting her expression into a more serious one, “…are you remorseful, Miss Brown?” If the woman was lying, she would know, it made her job all the easier. Her gloved fingers laced between one another, expective of an answer and a truthful one at that.

It truly was the moment of truth for the accused, whether she would be subjected to eternal punishment or something more lightened was entirely up to her at this stage.

He’s shaking bad. He had shed the overalls for the little event– much too warm while he was inside that little pallet box. This was… It was a lot. It hurt a lot, and he knew he was losing blood fast. It was a bad feeling, a cold feeling. Weak feeling. Not one he was hoping to feel again anytime soon– but that’s a story for another time.

He groans a little, tears streaming his face. Hurts hurts hurts hurts– he’s grabbing at his side– pressure, right? Pressure helped. That’s what all the shows said– that’s what they said over the phone to his mom when she–

He’s going to pass out. If not from the blood loss, from the pain. But he’s trying. He’s trying. Hopefully he doesn’t remember this. “Sew– sew it. Sew it.” He’s begging, pleading. Sew it up! Get some needle and some thread! Is there some in the shed? Maybe. Maybe, they stored so much extra shit out here. But there was no way he could tell her where it might be.

“Please, please– please, it hurts. Holy shit,” he sobs, eyes closed tight. Fuck! Fuck, this was a mistake. All a mistake. They don’t even have fucking cell service up here, he’s going to fucking die up here–

Maybe he deserves it.

As he holds it to his side, she’s frozen for a moment, her doe eyes befitting her current deer-in-the-headlights look. ❛What?❜ she squeaks, eyes narrowed in confusion. Aren’t you not supposed to remove padding from injuries until the hospital? So as not to disrupt the clotting or something? She panics.. ❛I- I don’t know how, I’m not a doctor!❜

Oh, God, this could make things so much worse, but his yelling is enough to convince her to scramble until she finds a sewing kit. her hands are so shaky right now, and she’s relieved when Chris brings back the first aid kit. Before he’s off again, he says something about finding the others, about a radio tower somewhere, but Ashley doesn’t quite catch it. 

To the best of her ability, she sanitizes the needle with an alcohol wipe, trying not to gag at the sight of the injury and blood. Josh had forced her to watch enough horror movies in her time to see gratuitous gore, but somehting makes it different when it’s real life.  

Ashley shakes, trying with the best of her ability to thread the needle, but her eye hadn’t missed something odd in the room. Without the saw buzzing, havving stopped it’s track, strangely, the shed feels eerily quiet. ❛Josh...why is that body thingy wearing your clothes? What’s going on?❜ she demands.  

The High Prosecutor would release a sigh as the woman began sobbing through her explanation, despite the prestigious nature surrounding her position… it was this part that she had both grown numb to, at least on a conscious level; her subconscious would feel immense levels of sympathy that was not allowed to show up whenever she took the stand, if she went easy on any one sinner then she would have to let every other sinner off easy… and that would simply bring massive imbalance to the hierarchy of Hell; it sucked, but that was just the way things were.

“Miss Brown, there’s no need to cry; you’re simply starting new, that’s all.” The white haired woman would set the papers down, lacing her fingers together, “I know that you were in a life or death scenario and that you acted out of paranoia that happened because you were betrayed by someone you trusted.” She would reach for a pen, beginning to write things down on an unseen stack of paperwork.

“This would place you in violation of Purity Code 256A-3, and you would be charged with Wrath in the second degree…” It was all so formal, a dictation that the awesome demon was not a fan of in the slightest, “Given the context of the situation, you would receive a somewhat lighter punishment.”. Setting the pen down, red eyes would lock with green once more.

“If you would like to ask any questions before we move on, don’t hesitate to ask.”

She’s calming down a bit, but not by much. Her heart still feels like it’s going to fall out of her mouth and onto the floor, if it were still beating. The woman’s voice is so monotonic, no hint of emotion in her face or voice, and Ashley is unsure whether that’s reassuring or terrifying. She nods, taking deep, shaky breaths. Starting new. Perhaps that could be good for her - as far as she was concerned, her two closest friends meant nothing anymore .

❛Is anyone I know here? Besides....him?❜ she inquires, digging her fingernails into her wrist and creating little half-moon shapes in her skin. ❛And how will I be punished? Are you going to torture me?❜

It's a warmth she hasn't felt in a while, and for once, she's not going to pretend it's not there nor fail to act on it. That decision caused her far too much anguish last time after she lost her light. Ashley is never letting that light slip away from her out of fear. Never again. She knows the guilt in her feeling that she's betraying Chris, betraying Jessica with her feelings is stupid. But she can't bear to let that stop her from anything.

Leaning her head on Mike's shoulder, her eyes flicker briefly to his lips, still hesitant to close the space between them. She frowns, her thumb nervously grazing back and forth over his hand. ❛I thought I was protecting you by holding back a-and not telling you how I felt,❜ Ashley admits, swallowing.

Everything about this trip screams 'bad idea' - it doesn't take a genius to notice that Josh is clearly not in the best of states right now, and everyone is at each other's throats. It's no wonder, then, that Ashley jumps at the opportunity to walk to the guest cabin with Chris to gather more firewood and materials. The growing darkness of outside spooks her out and she really wishes she'd worn more to protect her legs from the blistering cold, but she'll take that over listening to Emily and Jessica cat fight over Mike any day.

For once, she's grateful that the cloak of darkness hides the flush to her face and that she can use the cold as an excuse to have rosy cheeks. ❛I am, too,❜ Ashley smiles, her stomach somersaulting and radiating a warmth into her chest before her face reddens further. ❛Um- I mean - you, too. I'm glad you came, too. I...I honestly don't think I'd be able to get through this weekend without you.❜

Her hand brushes against his, and she's tempted to take it, yearning for the comfort and warmth, but she decides against it. ❛Is it just me, or does Josh seem....off? Like, even more so than usua-❜ Before she can finish that sentence, she falls into the thing she hadn't even seen in front of her, yelping as she luckily lands on her feat, heart pounding loudly.