Counting The Seconds

Falling For You. Literally.

(Luca POV)

The day started, I suppose, like any other. Boring. Going about the same routine as always. I woke up, got ready for school, caught the bus, and survived another wonderful day in the realm of public education. Once I reach home, my day worsens considerably. My dad's car is in the lot of our apartment building, which means he's off of work early. That doesn't bode well for anyone, except perhaps himself as it gives him even more time in a day to harass me. After a brief moment of panic, I compose myself and run through the mental checklist so I don't get hate-crimed in my own home. Is my hair down? I switched out of my binder at the gas station down the street, which sounds gross but ultimately could be worse. At least I get a free candy bar when I stop by, for helping out the cashier with his college English classes. My jeans are tattered and torn, which Dad might throw a little fit about as it isn't 'proper', but it'll have to do. I don't need to offer my father any more reasons to call me slurs than he already has.

Walking through the seemingly endless hallways of our apartment building does not help my mood, however the routine of it offers an oddly calming atmosphere before the chaos. I shrug my backpack off and open the door as quietly as I can, and freeze- He's asleep! Maybe. . . maybe. . . I almost make it through the apartment, but alas. Just as I'm about to slip into my room a grunt and shout follow me.

"Charlotte! Get your ass back out here. Your ungrateful whore of a mother decided not to come home today, so somebody better make dinner." My bag hits the floor with a thud, which only tacks on another stream of insults. I rest my head against my door frame for a moment before sighing and making my way to the tiny kitchen. Why did I let myself get hopeful? I should know better by now, honestly. I put on a fake smile, and get ready to start dinner.

Hours later, after a few more rounds of shouting and a semi-decent meal, I'm able to escape to my room under the guise of homework (which isn't a total lie, I do have homework, but I also just need a break from that asshat.) I shut the door softly, pull up my hair so it stays out of my face, and collapse onto my bed. The tears are falling before I can fully process the burn in my eyes or the emotions causing them, but eventually I manage to take a breath between silent sobs. Even if you're good at covering emotions, sometimes your feelings get the best of you anyways. My phone dings, and immediately a small sense of hope creeps in. Is it him? Admittedly it isn't the best coping strategy, but the online friend has evolved into the only true connection I seem to have anymore. The disappointment upon realizing that it was a spam email is overwhelming, and apparently more than I can handle as more tears and the inability to breathe once again take over. Not even slipping into my imaginary little world with him can help right now.

Pacing across the roof, my brain continues to malfunction. I can't really make sense of what's happening. Despite the night being relatively quiet for the city, it feels like something is humming in my ear and that makes it even harder to focus. I know there is a reason I'm so upset, people don't just go into full-on meltdowns for no reason, but I'm just so fucking overwhelmed I can't figure out WHY I'm overwhelmed. Imagine waking up from a blackout with your shirt tear soaked, your eyes burning, and a lingering ache across your entire body. Now multiply that by 10 and add in some really loud flies buzzing around you, and you can start to comprehend how I feel. One of my wonderful character flaws: getting upset over things so pathetic I don't even know what set me off.

My phone in my hand seems to aid me in some way. I can feel the weight of it, and my brain latches on to the fact that there's something important about it. The blinding white of it startles me in contrast to the darkness of the world around me, but after a few moments of staring at it the glare dies away and I can make out the 'call in progress' at the top of the screen. After that, the pieces start to fall into place. The operator's voice registers clearer as he tries to keep me talking, asking dumb questions and assuring me that an ambulance is on the way. Of course it is. Wouldn't that make people want to jump FASTER? You're just letting them know their window is closing. How does that help?