It freaked her out almost, her last dying moments- her life wrapped up in a nutshell. Eye contact. Were the confessions on the television all theatrical lies, or was she truly that messed up and incompetent she couldn’t even have her fluttering chronicalization of life done right? "Ashley! Oh my God… Aiden’s down too- call 911!"

"Yes, I’m sure the gunshots popping off in everyone’s face wasn’t enough reason to call." Those voices did not belong to the shot callers up above, or below no matter the nice sounding of effects working circles into her ear echoing from the pathways that they had traveled. Unless, Clay was truly God and Glen was the Lucifer. On second thought…

The largest sweeping breeze came over Ashley’s body as she gasped choking on air as the weight had been lifted, as she panicked searching for the reason. If it was an out of body expierence, being afraid of heights the floating session that surely was going to come next would be enough for Ashley to dig her heels and crawl down to Earth- past Earth if she needed to. Oxygen had become her remedy as Ashley’s cycles of progression towards death stopped, the fleeting image of huge gray watchful eyes disappearing into moons of rich, dark eyes speedily assessing analysis on her health. "Ashley- just lay down, help is coming okay?" When Clay was nervous, he had the innate ability to blurt worlds out in chunks of jointed syllables confusing Ashley’s as she looked around just trying to remember the exact reason of why Ashley Davies was just so important, the swirling sirens clouding her mind as she tensed up her hand pulling up to her forehead to soothe the pressure of her brain fighting to get out from her skull. The moistness of her hand confusing her just as much as Clay had.

She pulled her hand away, staring down at it’s crimsion thin covering on her skin. Blood. "Don’t worry Ashley, help is on the way." The worst pains of Ashley’s life, Spencer’s voice alone had managed to calm her to sleep. Looking up, she found Spencer standing there still in her dress, Ashley’s corsasage that she had given her around her wrist still in good condition, though limped and crushed from the choas but still better managed than Ashley’s wittled with blood. Ashley wanted her voice to belong in her heart and mend it like before, just as much as Spencer wanted to pull Ashley into her arms tightly unconcerned with the pain she may bring upon her by her tight squeeze as she stroked her, needing the proof that she were alive. But this night, the shooting wasn’t the sole factor that had changed all their lives, the blame of the shattering rift between them all had been envoked before any physical tragedy. Before any newcoming Carlin or long lost Davies. The sole cause, had been love trying to take it’s rightful place.