The Body

Ash's limbs stretched out far while he sat in his seat during sixth period. He was so ready to leave French class. He had no idea why he took the stupid class to begin with—wait, yes he did. Misty and his mother were as persistent as a group of rapid hyenas around a roast duck. Vicious when challenged; he had no other option but to comply.

"You need to learn a second language!" His mother and girlfriend would scream at him all throughout the last three years of his high school life. He did not need to learn a second language, they wanted him to learn one! It was uncalled for and unfair and...ugh. Ash had never been the brightest apple on the tree, so school was hard enough without the tedious effort of memorizing a new language's complete vocabulary. He could only borderline write in his native tongue, how in the world did they expect him to learn another?

He tapped his fingers on the desk, itching for the sweet release that swimming practice would bring him. 3:15 could not come fast enough. Tapping his sneaker against the carpeted floor below, he dart his eye around his fellow classmates, some of them were taking notes, a few were trying to pass off texting below the chairs, but Ash just tapped his fingers away on the desk; eying the clock like like an animal stalks its prey.

He counted down to one minute; which meant in less than sixty seconds he would be back out in the world where he wanted to be. Ash was only about a week or two into his last year of high school, his senior year. Homecoming week bellowed along the hallways, streamers hung up around lockers and throughout classrooms and the air was doused with a cheerful nature. Not to mention they were able to attend school wearing whatever they wanted this week instead of their normal, stuffy uniforms—but more importantly; as any seventeen year old would; he wanted to see his girlfriend who spent the summer in swimming camps.

The only reason she joined the swim team was so he could spend a little more time with her. It had nothing to do with the uniforms. Nothing.

The bell rang, and Ash was the first one up, shuffling-practically sprinting towards the exit doors. His teacher couldn't even speak her closing goodbyes before Ash was out of the side door and through the hallway, shooting past the flood of other students. The pools were up the hill towards the gymnasium, but he waited below the catwalk for his red-headed companion. She had calculus as her sixth period so she was only in the next building over.

Ash stuffed his hands into his jean pockets and whistled earnestly as he tapped his foot against the pavement below. Only two weeks into the school year, and he couldn't wait for winter break! The end of the day was the best part—especially when he stood apart from the shade, taking in the sweet summer air.

"Hey, man." The deep voice of his oldest friend, Brock rounded the corner of the pillar beside Ash as the students spilled out of the building, racing for the bus stop; others to the student parking lot which was on the way to the gym. Ash smiled.

"Hey, Brock. How was Human Anatomy?"

"...They're going to make us dissect frogs." he grimaced with a shudder that forced Ash into a laugh. Brock was a wonderful student, but his queasy stomach made Ash wonder if he would become a successful doctor or not—maybe he could be one of those sit-behind a desk doctors? Ash grinned.

"How was french." Brock quirked a playful eyebrow, shooting the raven-haired teen a grin.

Ash inhaled and wiggled his eyebrow, awkwardly stammering. "Bien. Ou' est la salle de bain?"

"...er.." Brock's face fell slightly, half impressed, half-in pain. That was the worst accent he had ever heard. Ash's mouth flat lined, trying hard not to laugh.

The older boy admit sheepishly. "I have no idea what you just said."

Ash, almost giddy, was more than pleased to clap his hands facetiously and reply: "I asked to use the washroom."

"You're learning the language of love and you learn to ask that?" Brock smacked his forehead, glancing at the approaching figure.

"Hey, it gets me out of class." Ash murmured, partially offended.

Brock raised a quizzical eyebrow. "What does Misty say?"

Ash snickered, covering his mouth with his fingers. "Misty has no idea what I'm saying so I can say what ever I want and she loves it."

"Well now, Ketchum." She snarled behind him, thumping him upset the head as she found perch beside the boys. "Good to know." Misty whisked from beside him, causing Ash to spin on his heels to face her, mouth a gap. Brock wiped his nose playfully, grinning at Misty. She winked at the older man and Ash looked between them, betrayed.

Ash gasped, "Brock, why would you do that to me?"

"You were the one that said it." he retorted with a cheeky grin.

Misty snaked her arm around Ash's neck hastily, glowering beside his ear; eliciting a firm yelp from the boy. "So last night when you were saying all of those things—what were you really saying?"

"You better just kill me now." Ash mused pathetically as Misty tugged on his cheeks with a mischievous smile.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Swim practice was always a pain for Ash. The work out was nice, the days he got off for swim meets were wonderful—and being on a champion team was also a perk... but Brock always came with them because Misty was his ride home—plus he loved to watch the girls. In Brock's own words, he could study, and gawk at the same time. Ash figured that as long as his eyes didn't go anywhere near Misty, Ash was okay with what ever weird fetish he had for ogling women. Besides, three made for better company, especially if Misty was in a bad mood.

Ash was already finished with his practice for the day, and was now waiting on Misty. He stretched tiredly as he watched Misty approach him in that two piece, athletic yellow and teal swimsuit, she looked like a goddess. Laps over with, she was wrapping herself in a towel to watch the rest of the swimmers go. Ash was seated beside Brock; the boys team typically let out before the girls, so he was already showered and dressed when she approached them, leaning up against the railing to pose her question to the boy writing down notes.

"You're not trying to take pictures again, are you Brock?" Misty swiped at his hand, checking for a mobile device but found nothing but a bright blush.

"No! And I never was. I was busy." Brock denied, slamming his human anatomy book closed for effect. Ash pursed his lips while wriggling his fingers against the straps of his bag.

"Brock, you didn't turn the flash off." Misty warned him, rising a chuckle from Ash's throat while Brock turned scarlet and covered his face with his hand. The incident in question was last year at the final swim-meet of the year. Brock was thrown out of the stadium and it was a sore subject.

"Now, now children." Ash intervened jokingly, getting a whistle from Misty.

"This coming from you mister-'can I use the bathroom?' What the hell even?" She pushed him against the knee playfully reaching over the railing. A worried laugh escaped his lips in return. She was difficult to read some days, he wouldn't know how much trouble he was in until later.

Which drew Ash to his next thought; "Are we still on for the game and then the party at Drew's house tonight?" Ash questioned, looking between his friends excitedly.

"Yeah, I thought so." Misty chirped quickly, running her thumb over her long red hair. Brock seemed flabbergasted for a moment, and then pursed his lips slightly.

"I have a test tomorrow..." He muttered, but Ash slapped him on the back cheerfully.

"C'mon Brocko! It's only homecoming week once a year! Our last one at that! We need to attend all the festivities." Ash pat him harder each time he slapped the man on the back, getting a wince from each blow.

"This coming from you." Misty mocked, leaning her elbow on the railing to cradle her chin with her index and thumb. "We could hardly get you away from your pokemon video games and weird animal collection for the last three years." Misty mused sarcastically, knitting up her eyebrows.

"Well excuse me," Ash chimed. "We didn't all have popular sisters to start our popularity like you did, Misty." he gushed while sticking his tongue out at her.

"'ey I wasn't popular." She denied with furrowed eyebrows.

He scoffed, remembering their early years. "You were more well known."

"People used to call me the dwarf sister—that's not a compliment."

"Really?" Ash paused thoughtfully, almost confused. "I thought that it was." He wagered with a sly grin. Misty blushed accordingly and pinched him on the thigh whilst pursing her lips.

"You are such a dolt sometimes." She sighed, though adoringly; Ash smiled lovingly in return and Brock shook his head, effectively destroying the cute moment.

"You two make me sick" he grimaced. "I miss back in middle school when Misty used to make you eat dirt." he gestured to Ash, a grin pulling on his lips at the pleasant memory.

"I don't miss that at all." Ash said quickly, painfully. "Please let that never be a thing again." He whimpered, causing Misty to laugh boldly and shake her head. She pat her two companions on the knees and then flipped them a peace sign.

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and then stepped away from the railing, back towards the pool. "I'll go shower and meet you guys at my car, okay?" She waved at them and then turned, holding the towel firm against her still-damp neck. Watching her leave, Ash's head tilted and Brock lowered his eyelids at the dark-haired boy.

"Now whose the pervert?" he quipped, watching Ash nearly jump out of his skin.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Swim practice lead deep into the afternoon on most occasions; fitted with boys practice before girls so even after Ash was finished, he waited for her until around 5:00pm, which was fine on most occasions. His mom did expect him until supper time at seven, so long as he promised to 'be safe'. She was oblivious to the nature of Ash and Misty's relationship; but he thought she rather liked it that way. Preferring to remember him as her innocent boy, and not the near-college student that he was. It didn't help that Misty was already almost a year older than him and therefore more 'experienced'. If they didn't lie about practice lasting until supper time, he wouldn't be allowed time with the red-head without his mother buzzing around; even when they stayed over at his house watching television in his bedroom, she would peek in every few minutes to check in on them.

It drove the young couple crazy, but not more than her sisters. Daisy, Lily and Violet were twice the handful of Delia. They didn't only check in, they joined in; ate their popcorn, sometimes tried to hit on Ash just to see if it would work, and occasionally even brought their own dates for a forced and unwanted double date. It was frightening; so the lovers would take Delia's shy glances and home-made cookies any day.

Especially the cookies.

"Hey guys!" The blue-haired Dawn cheered from across the student parking lot, still in her cheerleader uniform. "Are you going to the game tonight?" She shouted, surrounded by a posse of the female student body. Brock had to contain his lustful sigh as he inhaled sharp.

"Yeah we are!" Ash yelped with a grin, sitting on the top of Misty's blue impala.

"Well it starts soon! Don't be late! I'll save you guys seats at the front!" Dawn cheered, throwing up her arms like a professional.

"That would be great, Dawn, thanks!" Ash said, pumping his fists joyously. Cheerfully, Ash looked to Brock who seemed utterly enthralled with the idea of attending the game now that he knew pretty girls would be there. Ash shook his head at his simplistic nature. So easy to please.

"Front row seats to watch those girls..." He said, blowing out steam from his nose as he wiggled against the hood.

Ash's eyebrow rose. "I always thought you like older women? What was her name? That police lady."

"Please! My heart belongs to all women! It's only fair everyone gets a piece of Brock!" He gasped, holding up his fist dramatically.

"Fair if you want stds." Misty corrected, drawing both of the boys attention to her. "Brock have you ever had a girlfriend?" Misty's snide remark came from just down the lane, she held her book bag over her shoulder by one strap and held a sophisticated glare as she licked her lips.

Brock's head fell. The answer was no. Brock had never had a girlfriend. Ash pat him on the shoulder gingerly. "There, there Brock. At least you don't have to worry about-" Ash paused, his eyes shifting to Misty who looked at him skeptically, as if saying 'go on'.

"It's the best thing in the world." Ash said loudly, and then leaned over to whisper. "Save yourself." Into Brock's ear, perking the man up. They slid of the top of the car as Misty unlocked the doors and shook her head. She was wearing a yellow tank top and black basketball shorts—her go-to attire after swimming practice.

When they slipped inside, even after both students had showered, the interior of the car was stained with the smell of chlorine mixed with a plentiful amount of sun screen; two of Misty's most prized possession as a frequent swimmer and fair-skinned female. If she missed sunscreen during any of their out-door meets, she turned into a lobster for several days. Ash grinned at the thought while he hiked the radio on the moment they settled in with seat belts on; switching the station over to rock music. Misty quickly changed it back to the new-age music and pursed her lips at Ash in challenge, he shrugged his shoulders, and then pressed the button again, beginning the endless roulette of their music battle.

In the back, Brock slapped his forehead hard, groaning as the two fought over control of the station. It was fruitless anyways, Misty always won—either by threatening to unbuckle him and turn hard enough that he flies out, or by, well, threatening to remove a certain appendage. Both threats effectively stopped Ash from touching the radio; though Misty would always change it back to the rock station after wards. They fought over the weirdest things to be victorious, but she always gave in at the end. He wondered what their se- No, wait. Brock didn't want to know.

"Hey, after the game I need to stop over at Ash's house. I left my Statistics book there." Brock grimaced, recalling the lecture he received for forgetting it again. He glared at Ash. "I obviously can't rely on Ash to bring it to me."
"Brock you know I barely bring myself to school in the morning." Ash grimaced apologetically, scratching the back of his neck. Being apart of the lower class family that he was, he walked to school every morning.

"You know, Ash, if you tried a little harder you wouldn't have to pay so much for university." Misty scolded, rolling her eyes. He was bright, he just never applied himself to anything outside of sports. It was insanely frustrating for the red-head who was on the honor-roll. Her sisters may have been prettier, but she was proud to be smarter.

"Eh..." Ash moaned, leaning back in his chair. "I plan to enjoy my young life, Mist. Not all of us can have our nose stuck in a book like you and Brock." He grinned toothily at her, and she rolled her eyes in return.

"I do not." Brock chimed from the back seat—at least Misty didn't deny her love of books.

"You do so!" Misty and Ash screamed in unison, checking the review mirror to garner evidence; he was reading his human anatomy book as they drove.

"I do not!" He denied earnestly.

"Then what are you doing now!" Misty bellowed with a laugh. Brock threw his arms up.

He whined, "I have a test tomorrow!"

xooxoxoxoxooxxoxoxox

It was not unfamiliar for all of Ash's friends to pile into the small house at the end of Pallet Street. The Ketchum residence had always been a home away from home for the odd trio, even when they were kids and Misty was technically Ash's nemesis; Delia always allowed the red-head time to feed and wash herself away from her berating sisters. Brock was always given the time to take a break from being caretaker over his siblings because his father was no good at it. It was the corner hub of their friendship; a place where they could always be themselves, full of laughter and great memories.

However, when they rolled in a quarter after nine, Ash was swearing.

"I forgot to tell her I was going to the game tonight. She's probably pissed." Ash muttered nervously, the wooden floors creaking under his feet. The lights were all out, aside from the one in the kitchen.

"Maybe we can just sneak in and out?" Brock suggested while pressing towards the stairs. Misty on the other hand didn't seem to mind as she started her ascend up the stairs.

Ash hissed; "Misty, what are you doing?"

"Puedo el bano something in french." She muttered and waved him off. "I have to pee. I'll be right back."

Typically, Ash would have sworn at her to use the downstairs washroom, but it was unavailable since a sewer back up blew the pipping a few weeks ago. They were waiting for a plumber that seemed to always forget where the Ketchum residence was. Ash decided that instead of fighting with Misty, who was painfully light on her feet, he followed Brock into the kitchen.

"Hey, she didn't make dinner tonight." Brock noted while he scooped up the book that remained unmoved from breakfast that morning—the dishes weren't done, either. Which was odd for the home-making woman. Ash didn't seem to think much of it as he inhaled, eyes fluttering slightly. He pursed his lips.

"Pikachu?" Ash made kissing noises, listening to the bound of the golden retriever from upstairs. Ash raised his eyebrows while Brock scoffed, listening to the dog's paws scamper against the wooden floors as it made its way down the stairs.

"I can't believe you named your dog after a video game." Brock chuckled while shaking his head.
"Hey man, Pikachu was the best." Ash grimaced slightly, eyebrows furrowed. On cue, the dog rounded the corner, only it lacked the typical excitement that it usually had. The dog's tail was tucked between his legs, his head down until Ash dipped down to pat the dog on the head, only when it looked up to its owner, is snout was red as if it had been trying to lick something.

"Whats that on your face, bud?" Ask grimaced, leaning down to view the sad-looking dog.

All alarms went off in Ash's head only seconds later when Misty's blood curling scream echoed from upstairs.

"Misty!?" Ash yelled for her, charging past Pikachu as Brock dropped his book onto the floor and ran after Ash and up the stairs toward the scream.

From down the hall, the two boys could hear Misty's faint cries. "Delia?" she called loudly, the light turning on followed by a very devote "Oh, god." Ash reached the door as Misty had, grabbing him by the shoulders and thrusting him away from the door.

A sort of horrible smell penetrated Ash's nostrils right away, like rotten milk, of a softer variation... like the after smell of the empty pools during winter.

"I need a phone!" Misty screamed, pawing at Ash's pockets to fetch his phone—she had left hers in the car. She dialed the emergency contact number as she pushed Ash up and away from the door; leaving room for Brock to walk in.

"Oh my fuck!" Brock yelped at the entrance, only setting off more triggers in Ash's mind as he looked up at his old companion; eyes wide and wild.

"Brock do not let him in there!" Misty shrieked, slamming her hand on the wall beside Ash's head so he wouldn't try to dart around her; the phone call went through and Brock ran inside, leaving Ash in the hallway with only a frantic Misty to stare at. On the palms of her left hand, the one that held the device to her ear, he could see blood. His face paled.

"What's going on?" he muttered quietly, only drawing her frantic gaze away from the phone conversation for a moment.

"Hello? I need an ambulance at 201 Pallet Street right now! There's been an accident, it's an emergency!" the urgency and terror in her voice tore at his insides. She was unable to say the proper words; they hung off her tongue but Ash couldn't question them.

"Misty, what happened!?" Ash's voice rose disquieted, trying to move pass Misty as tears stung her eyes and she grabbed Ash's wrist to keep him in place in the hallway.

"Ash, don't!" She yelled into the phone, trying to keep him still and the operator on the line informed—but Ash wasn't interested in that. He could careless what the operator had to say, or Misty right now, for that matter. He ripped his wrist free of her grasp and charged into his mother's bed room with Misty hot on his heels. She tried to protect him from seeing it.

...but it was too late, he saw the body. The blood. The contorted, cold expression.

If it was possible for someone's heart to stop beating for a millisecond, for every muscle in his body to stop working all at the same time, for every nerve ending in his face and his arms to die in a split second—Ash would have felt all of these at that single moment. Kneeling beside his mother who laid on the ground near the foot of her bed was Brock, checking for a pulse probably the same way that Misty had only seconds ago.

"...Mom?"

Author's note: edited 2020

I wrote this in 2012 and no longer wish to complete it. It's too close too home, and is discontinued.