Resistance • l.h.

Prologue

Warning: This is a stepdad Luke story. It might be rated Mature in later chapters.
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Love has always had a strong meaning to me.

This is why I rarely used it, saving it only for my family and close friends. Even with them, I used it sparingly.

My mindset often led to let other people jumping to the conclusion that I was a cold-hearted person, or that I was hard to get along with, which wasn't completely false to begin with.

It started when I was 6. I was only in kindergarten. But the fact that I was quiet and shy, afraid to speak my mind, hindered my ability to make friends. The few ones I had, always left me behind once they found other girls that they could better relate and talk to. How are you supposed to believe in love when everyone around you always leaves?

It continued when I was 10. It was the first time I was bullied because I had differently shaped eyes, and the first time I got teased because I'm part Vietnamese and had excellent grades, which, the last time I checked, was actually a good thing. It was the first time I started hating my own culture, something you're supposed to be proud of. How are you supposed to believe in love when you don't love yourself?

It dragged on when I was 14. This was the first time I stared into the mirror, and broke down crying. The first time I literally felt like I had no one in my life besides my parents, who were never home anymore, anyway. They even began getting into minor arguments, about petty things such as walking the dog when they came home from work, or who's turn it is to wash the dishes. It was the first time I cried myself to sleep. How are you supposed to believe in love when you're surrounded by hatred?

It crushed me when I was 16 to see my parents decided to get divorce. I was never a big believer in true love, and seeing them fight and separate nearly completely diminished my hope to find someone for myself. That is, until my mother moved on and found another man.

To say I was shocked was an understatement. It had been less than a month, and I could tell that she was rushing to forget my father. I tried to hate her; I truly did. But my mother was my best friend. I didn't have the guts to tell her that what she was doing is impulsive. The anger and resentment I felt towards her was sometimes uncontrollable. I was surprised I never snapped.

Not to mention that her new boyfriend, Luke, was only 24, and she was 34. There is also the fact that I'm only 8 years younger than him, leaving a smaller age gap than him and my mother. Didn't she learn anything from having a young marriage? Didn't she know that her actions not only affect her, but her daughter as well?

Luke Hemming, millionaire, inherited his father's company. His father was one of the founders of Alka-Seltzer, the pill-like thing that you drop in water to relieve upset stomach, heartburn, and acid. Ignoring the fact that he has money, his physical appearance only made him more appealing. He is over 6'0, which means he towers over everybody, especially me; I'm only 5'4. He has sandy blondish-brown hair that is always perfectly messy, along with a pair of strikingly blue eyes that I've always found intimidating.

Oh. And he has a freaking lip-ring.

Now, it has been almost two years. It was incredibly nice to see my mother happy again, even though I was never quite fond of Luke. It wasn't that he was mean, controlling, or annoying, I think I was just still biased. Biased because I thought that my true father is still the only man that I can call Dad. That, and I couldn't stay in the same room with Luke for too long without feeling some kind of tension between us. I'm not exactly sure what it is, but his gaze makes me highly uncomfortable, as if he could look through me with just a glance.

I still remember the sick feeling when my mother and her boyfriend told me to sit down, as they delivered the news, huge smiles on their faces.

"Camille," my mother began, her body almost trembling from excitement. I could already tell where this was going.

"After your father and I separated, I know you were hurting, and it was absolutely unfair of me to do that to you. So I promise this time, you will live in a household where you see your parents happy with one another. I-"

Please spare me from the bullshit.

"Mom, I'm not stupid. I have eyes, believe it or not, and I can see that huge engagement ring on your finger. You don't have to explain anymore; if you're happy with Luke, then I'm happy for you too," I say quickly, trying to prevent her from going into an hour discussion about how marrying Luke would be for the better.

I watched as her eyes teared up, and she brought me into a bone-crushing embrace, to which I reluctantly returned. My eyes landed on Luke, who was still sitting on the couch, giving me a small smile and a nod, as if confirming everything I just said. I adverted my eyes to the ground, inwardly kicking myself for not having the balls to look into his eyes.

Things would be okay now. The bill would be paid, I would come home to a happier environment, and I wouldn't have to worry about my mother as often because he could look after her as well.

Everything would be alright. So why can't I get myself to believe my own thoughts?

Hi guys I hope you like the beginning. It'll be a bit slow, but I'm just trying to develop the plot. Thanks for reading, remember to vote and comment!