Present day- Ashley’s POV- Afternoon: Before the Carnage

I take the last swallow from the vodka and throw the empty bottle across the room. In front of me are a bunch of pictures from my childhood, some from my early teen years and a bunch of me and Spencer. When we first got together I had to take a million pictures to insure it was real, to insure that I always had something to remind me of the girl that I loved. The pictures…… they’re priceless and from a time when things were good. I only take pictures when it’s a happy time in my life, which is why there’s not too many of them besides the ones of me and Spencer.

Get up from the floor of the kitchen and walk up to my moms room to see if she has any pictures of her childhood. I don’t know why but I’m interested in how my mom was before my dad broke her heart. As I make my decent up the stairs I fall a few times, tripping over the stairs along with my own feet. I think about going back down and grabbing another bottle of vodka but my stoamch gets a quessy feeling and I turn back and go into my moms room.

In her closet, which is huger than mine…… wait, sorry, bigger. Spencer’s always wanted me to stop saying huger. Back to the closet, there’s all kinds of clothes, mostly slutty, and a few boxes on the top shelf. I pull them down in a non-graceful way and they all fall down on top of me. I fall back, catching one box as I go down, and watch the rest fall and spill their contents across the floor.

Some of the things aren’t really that cool……. a dildo……. another dildo…… damn, I guess my mom’s as bad as me……. except I don’t need dildo’s. I look at the box in my hand and shake it as if it’s christmas. It sounds like there’s only one thing in the box, and it’s big and heavy. I open up and memories come flooding back……

I remember the last time I saw this. It was my 12th birthday and my dad had taken me out to a shooting range with a variety of different guns. He let me fire of this 357 magnum that’s in this box. I let of a few rounds, missing the cans completely at first. Then my dad showed me how to hold it and aim, spending hours teaching me exactly how to shoot. By the end of the day I was able to hit 2 out of 3 cans, sometimes all three. My dad of course was a great shot, he’d never miss and if he did it was just to make me feel better.