start a fight [muke af]

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ix

Weeks passed, and Luke wasn't a rookie anymore. Other workers came from Academy, and suddenly Luke wasn't the newest member.

That felt good.

Everything else did not feel good.

He came through the house and kicked off his shoes as tears fled from his eyes. His mother met him at the stairs, concerned at his early arrival and sobbing breaths. "Baby?"

"I hate people," he said as he began to run up the carpeted stairs.

"Lukey, come down, we should talk."

"No!" He yelled, slamming his bedroom door behind him. He quickly unbuttoned his work shirt, throwing it in the empty laundry basket. He tore off his undershirt and pants, simply throwing them on the ground.

He continued to strip himself of clothes on his way to the shower. Luke screamed at absolutely nothing as tears continued to fall from his dull blue eyes.

The shower was running high and hot, he hoped his mother couldn't hear his cries of pain.

He looked at his fingers, dry blood on his fingertips. He hated his job, he hated fights. Memories that Luke begged to forget flooded his mind. He couldn't stand the fighting in prison, even the ones not in his unit. He always got involved somehow and he hated it.

Ms. Hemmings was always one of those mothers that taught her three sons that hate was a strong word. All Luke could feel was hate, though.

He stepped into the shower, watching the dry blood that was not his own wash from his hands and down the drain. He cried harder, leaning against the shower wall. He didn't know why he was crying, he was simply overwhelmed.

He wasn't sure if this was for him anymore. Luke began in a police program when he was twelve, and he fell in love with it. He liked the police, he liked the thrill of the job.

At fourteen, his group of trainee cadets were taken to their local prison, touring the facility. He liked the power the parol officers held, he wanted that power.

Now at nineteen, Luke wants that power gone.

He doesn't want to get called on the radio because someone on level five has a knife. He doesn't want to detain anymore units. He doesn't want to yell or shout at anyone, he doesn't like raising his voice! He can't even tell his dog what it is and is not allowed to do, how is he supposed to tell a real life human being?

Luke stepped under the hot water, his back to the shower head as it washed away his misery of the day.

He never was a loud kid growing up. He had a few friends, he was never lonely. But, he was never one for attention. He didn't mind sitting in the back of the class and left alone to his own thoughts.

He did fine in school. Luke hated public school, but he got through it.

Luke let his two older brothers push him around, it didn't bother him much. If they wanted to steal the television remote from him, then okay, he'd let them. If they wanted something of his, then okay, he'd let them take it.

He never yelled, he never shouted, he never stood up for himself. The blonde boy would much rather let things flow than try to interrupt it all.

Luke sobbed out in pain once more, his head spinning fast. He wasn't ready to be an adult.

(a/n) pretty sure i broke my nose at work yesterday. i was leaving the photography pit and letting this other photographer push his way through the crowd first, it seemed smart--make him do the dirty work. it was not smart. 

he didn't realize i was behind him and raised his camera up to protect it from the crowd. in the process of doing that, it went straight into my nose really, really hard. 

keep in mind, also, that i've broken my nose four times. my nose is very, very fragile. i knocked it out of place, i think that's it. i fixed it and it stopped bleeding and yucky yuck. 

anyways, there's an update on my life. feel free to hmu if u ever wanna talk and bond. 

love u all to the moon and back and then some more.