six_word_stories | (no subject)

[Honestly, at one point, Ashley would have been happy to tell Josh that she wished it had been him, too. But she's not that cruel.]

We can't change the past.

They were the good ones, you know? The ones my parents were proud of.

[He snorts derisively and shakes his head.]

They lose their daughters and are stuck with my broken ass. Life ain't fair.

No it's not.

Your parents are good people. Really good people.

[Life was the opposite of fair.]

They've still got you, though.

[Josh nearly laughs bitterly at her assessment of his parents, but nods instead. They are good people. It's not their fault Josh is broken. An embarrassment on them. They worked hard raising the Washington kids so that they'd never be wanting for anything.

Did that mean a lot of Josh, Hannah, and Beth raising each other? Yeah, but lots of families are like that.]

I haven't been back, Ash.

Don't plan on it either. They think I'm dead.

That's awful! Josh, they're hurting. They lost two kids and believe they've lost three. all within exactly a year That's not something anyone should have to suffer through. That's...

that's worse than what you did to the rest of us.

Yeah? Well I was starving and left to die down in those goddamn mines. And when I get out? The lodge is exploded, no signs of life anywhere.

I walked my ass to the ski lift and left. Hitch hiked my way back to a town and then...

[He shakes his head.]

I can still hear them, Ashley. Telling me to take a bite. Just a little bit. Join them again.

Oh- oh god- Josh- [She hadn't even remotely thought of that. Of how it must have been, trapped down with them.

She moves forward just a moment before reminding herself no, you can't just reach out and hug people that are responsible for a lot of mental damage. But hearing all of this- she owed it to Beth and Hannah to take care of Josh now, right? Now that most of them got out?]

Can I hug you? I really want to hug you right now. [And she had questions for him, so many fucking questions.]

You. You'd...want to?

[He can't wrap his head around this. They should hate him. Despise him after all he's done. Why is it so hard for Joshua to remember they were all friends, once? The closest people any of them had.]

I. I mean. Sure. Ain't no Cochise, but you know. Knock yourself out.

[Ashley can't wrap her head around it either. She's had so many nightmares since Blackwood. And part of her cant stand Josh after what he did.

But it was only a prank, right? and not forgiving people got them into at least part of this mess.

Ashley hesitates a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Josh in a tight hug.] I'm glad you're safe. I didn't know what to do, when I thought- [That saw, ripping through flesh...]

Josh- I have so many questions about that weekend...

I can't promise I"ll have decent answers, but I'll try.

[Even though he's tense and uncomfortable, Josh can't help but to relax slightly and reach up with one arm to half hug Ashley back. Give her some of the same comfort she's offering him.

Big brother instincts are hard to change.]

I stopped taking my meds the day before, so my memory of the weekend is real hazy. And I'm not sure what all of it was real. I remember planning it. Took for fucking ever. But the actual weekend?

That part I'm not too sure about. I was really out of it or locked up for most of it.

Oh. Gosh. [Ashley lets go and takes a step back. It's good to have him hug her.]

That's really bad, Josh. [No fucking wonder.] Uhm- I don't know where to start- when we used the spirit board... was that you moving it?

[Maybe getting the answers to some of these questions will help her eventually forgive him. The academic side of her was pretty damn impressed with how he'd managed to set the whole thing up. It was a work of creative genius. It was awful and terrible to be a part of, but the details he'd gotten... Uncanny.]

[He gives a weak shrug.]

Couldn't go through with it otherwise.

[The meds kept him so dull. Wouldn't let him feel, wouldn't let him focus on what needed to be done. It was exhausting keeping up the facsimile of normal when you're on enough anti-psychotics to knock out a fucking horse.

Faking being an average college age guy when all that's inside is static and muffled sadness and rage. But throw away the medicine? It's like breaking the surface for the first time in years. Being able to appreciate the looks of his friends without playing along. Being able to laugh and mean it. ~~The hallucinations and the voices. The paranoia telling him it has to be done they deserve this they did this he has to make it right~~.]

Yeah. I rigged all that stuff up. Ordered fake newspapers. Set up the projector to make that fake ghost girl. I studied everything my old man ever did for a a year, putting all of it together. No detail too small.

[It was neurotic. And for a while, the doing was all that mattered. Not the end goal. It was just something to keep him from suicide. Something to occupy his time. In the end, it had taken throwing away his meds and knowingly suffering the withdrawal side effects to make him go through with it.]