"Fuck it, you're crying again!" He snapped.
Ignoring me, Ashton began his frantic search for Bryan, tearing through each room in the mansion and shouting his name. I watched, helpless and bitter, as he stormed from one room to the next.
What an idiot.
An utter bastard.
Why couldn't it have been him who died?
Why did it have to be Bryan?
Dark thoughts clouded my mind as I watched him. After several minutes, Ashton finally returned, out of breath, his frustration clearly growing.
"Where is he, Kathryn? Don't test my patience," He warned, his voice edged with a threat.
Another tear slipped down my cheek.
I was becoming weaker, especially when Bryan crossed my mind.
"Stop crying and just tell me where my son is!" Ashton demanded.
Silently, I wiped my tears and turned, leading him up to the second floor where Bryan's room was.
"He's not here, Kathryn. I already searched this room!" Ashton insisted, his voice tight.
Ignoring him, I opened the wooden door and stepped inside. Without a word, I moved to Bryan's closet, pulling out a large, ornate chest. I placed it carefully on the table, right in front of Ashton before meeting his gaze.
I saw the color drain from his face.