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The Outlaw's Opposite~~Ashley Purdy

Chapter Four--One Bad Event after Another

A week later. A week of horrible nightmares. A week of intense pain. A week of not being able to leave Ashley’s bedroom without his help. A week of being comforted by Ashley’s sweetly soothing voice, his protective arms, his warm body against mine.

“Ashley?” I call out, leaning back into the thick fluffy pillows. He strides in, shirtless with an electric guitar in his hands. “Can I get up now?” I ask impatiently. I hate being restricted in bed, not being able to do things for myself. I’ve always been so independent. “Yeah. The doctor told me he doesn’t need to come in anymore, as well.” He says, leaving his guitar on the end of my bed. I smile appreciatively as he gabs my arms, helping me out of the bed.

I’m in sweatpants and a loose, blue shirt. While I was only waking up for a few minutes at a time, I was in a hospital gown but when I came here, Ashley had to change me. I shakily stand on the floor, quickly taking my hands from Ashley’s shoulders where I was holding onto to balance, clutching my head. “Ahh…” I groan as my head pounds, visions of the car crash flashing in my mind, images of my fiance. “Hey, Natasha, come on… it’s okay.” He whispers, holding onto my waist tightly.

“I’m fine.” I say dismissively, pulling my hands down to wrap them around my chest. “Okay. Do you need anything while you’re up?” He asks, taking one hand away from the waistband of my sweatpants. “My pills.” I tell him, brushing hair back into my messy bun. “Yeah, sure. Get back in bed; you aren’t supposed to be up much.” Ashley replies, jogging to the kitchen.
I snuggle into the bed, wrapped in the comforter. He comes back in with a handful of pills and a glass of apple juice. I glare at the pills—the amount is constantly decreasing, now down to three painkillers as I’m still having horrible headaches and dizziness, two pills to fight infection, two vitamins and one pill to get rid of the nightmares. I love the numbing they provide although I would never tell Ashley that.

I swallow them all, sipping the juice. The pills slowly start to fog up my brain, hazing away the pain. I sigh in relief although yesterday I was given two more pills than today. “Alright, well, the band needs to discuss the new album we’re working on so if you’re feeling well enough to be alone for a few hours, I need to go. Is that okay?” He asks, grabbing his guitar. I nod. “Alright, I’ll be back by supper!” He shouts, dashing away. He’s excited about his new guitar, the one that came in yesterday. He hasn’t got a chance to play it since I had a terrible headache yesterday.

I wait for the door to shut, then the rumble of his car. I get up slowly, dizziness almost making me fall over. I shuffle to the kitchen. I hurriedly root through the cupboards, jars of spices and vitamins crashing down. I find the pills I’m taking, intense painkillers. I curiously rip off a schedule for my amount each day, scanning it over. Apparently, I should be down to only vitamins by next week. Scoffing, I unscrew the child locks and empty two painkillers out. I’m about to swallow them when the glint of an alcohol bottle catches my eye.

Chewing my lip excitedly, I grab the tequila and find a shot glass in the cabinet. I fill the glass and down both pills, along with the alcohol that burns my throat. I grab a different kind of painkiller, this one much less intense although it still creates a wonderful feeling when I take it.

I empty out four, laying them all on my tongue. I don’t bother with the shot glass, emptying a bunch of the tequila in my mouth. My heart pounds as the drink starts buzzing through me, blood pumping through my veins. I check the clock—Ashley shouldn’t be home for another hour or so.

I take a depression pill; the one for my night terrors. I gulp it down with another shot. I grab the half empty bottle and collapse on the ground. I take mouthfuls of the alcohol, loving the buzz that runs through my body. Like electricity. I start to laugh, spewing tequila everywhere. “Aww shit!” I chuckle, closing my eyes and leaning my head on my knees.

In the darkness of my closed eyes, strange shapes and pictures appear due to the many pills I took. My fiancé shows up in my brain, cackling at me. I shiver, clutching the empty bottle tightly. “Stop it! Stop!” I scream, popping my eyes open. The room spins and shakes. I see the many ultrasounds for my baby, the pictures of him inside my womb. “Stop!” I shriek again. I biff the bottle at the wall. It smashes, remnants of the tequila splashing onto the floor.
I gasp for air, the happiness created dulled by the hallucinations I can’t get rid of. I feel disgusting and amazing all at once. I can’t feel the throbbing sting of my cuts, the pulsing ache of my broken wrist. But my head is foggy, my thoughts are confused and muddled, my heart is almost beating out of my chest, my lungs refuse to fill with air. I moan, letting out a breath. “Stop…” I whimper.

I slowly start to sob, great heaving sobs that take up the remainder of air that I manage to get into my lungs. I gasp, thoughts of the day the love of my life died. “No.” I groan sadly, clutching my head. I stretch out on the floor, curling up in the fetal position. I must lay here for a long time because before I know it, Ashley saunters in.

He hums lyrics under his breath, a grin plastered on his face. I glance up through teary eyes. He looks down and gasps. He runs past me, to the counter. He sees the pill bottles laying scattered around. He picks them up, weighing them in his palms. He must realize that I took a lot, each bottle is significantly lighter, because he drops beside me and clutches my palm tightly between both his hands.

“Natasha! How many pills?” He demands, his eyes flashing so many emotions. Pain, anger, frustration, guilt, sadness, panic, worry. “A shitload.” I slur. He notices the empty bottle of tequila and under his breath. He presses his ear to my chest, his hair tickling my face. “Fuck!” He mutters, grabbing his cell phone. He dials a number, listing off our address and the situation.

He sets down the phone, gripping my hand so tightly it hurts. I’m way too drugged up and drunk to complain though. My eyes start to droop close. “Natasha! God dammit, stay with me. Don’t you dare fucking close your eyes. It’ll be okay. The ambulances are coming.” He mumbles, cupping my cheek with his other hand. I mutter something unintelligent back, not loud enough for either one of us to hear considering I have no clue what I said.

He talks to me, tears brimming his eyes until paramedics burst in with a stretcher. They rush over and a middle-aged, brunette woman gives me a shot of something before putting something over my face. I’m lifted gently yet roughly onto the stretcher and put into the back of the ambulance. Another paramedic fills a zip-lock bag full of the pill bottles as Ashley jumps into the ambulance with me, resuming holding my hand. The lady stays with me as well, constantly checking my pulse, temperature, how fast I’m breathing.

I hold onto Ashley’s every word, desperate to stay awake and alive for his sake. No, not for mine. What do I have left to live for?


What? 2 updates in one day? Yay! Hope you like and hope you don't think it's moving too fast--as you can tell, I love dramatic stories! ;)


@Havic Fortuna

Aww, thank you so much!

BeccaSixx BeccaSixx

I really like this. The story is very addicting, and the writing is simply amazing. Looking forward to the next update.

Havic Fortuna Havic Fortuna

@Purdy 4ever
XD yup!!

BeccaSixx BeccaSixx


All three XD

CountryEmoGirl CountryEmoGirl

@Purdy 4ever

Haha! I think I would've kicked him in the crotch and then drive his car into the lake c;

BeccaSixx BeccaSixx