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He's fifteen when Ashton is born; an isolated boy who watches the world through a camera lens and spends as much time as possible in the corner of the cellar he's converted into a darkroom.
He expects to hate his new baby sister; it's a familiar emotion. Comfortable. For their part, the adults don't trust him alone with her, but one day when his father is down at the pub and his stepmother is asleep he slips into the nursery. Curious, he touches the palm of her hand.
Tiny fingers curl around his, and he knows; he'd kill for her.
He expects to hate his new baby sister; it's a familiar emotion. Comfortable. For their part, the adults don't trust him alone with her, but one day when his father is down at the pub and his stepmother is asleep he slips into the nursery. Curious, he touches the palm of her hand.
Tiny fingers curl around his, and he knows; he'd kill for her.
