gone ✧*｡ luke a.u.

40: october 9 2011

if you're reading this, i love you. potential trigger warning for some parts of this chapter.

~:~

ELLIE

THURSDAY, 9TH OCTOBER, 2011

Ellie's head collapsed into her hands, a tortured groan escaping her lips.

I can't do this.

Her fourth attempt at a simple still-life lay before her, not too horrible but not quite right, either. The other three lay in crumpled balls, scattered across the old picnic bench she had taken residence upon. This one too dark, that one too heavy, too many shadows, too jagged, angles not aligned, something unsettled about images that were supposed to be serene ... No matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to work.

She didn't know what was wrong with her. All she knew was that a vast, overwhelming sense of hopelessness was threatening to swallow her up whole, engulf her in darkness. Right then, looking over her failed, discarded pieces of work, Ellie wanted nothing more than to retreat, to curl up in a ball under the covers of her bed and hide from the world.

But in the life she had, such a basic pleasure was beyond her. Her home was in ruins, her father gone, their money gone with it. Morgan had no job to help them pay for the bills, and food; the only thing Ellie could think of to keep them upright was to sell her artwork on the street for money. Yet how could she do that, when she couldn't even draw the simplest still-life?

It was the second day in a row that she had skipped school. Yesterday she'd ditched it completely, and today she'd attended all classes except one. Biology, she thought, was an understandable miss. It would have worried her, once. Now she found she didn't care at all. (Or, at least, she tried to convince herself of that. Ms Ashford's disappointed face still haunted her; she found she couldn't meet her teacher's eyes when she passed her in the school halls.)

Ellie lit another cigarette, balancing it between her teeth as she tore her fourth drawing into small pieces and sent them scattering into the winter winds. They flew like doves, lifting higher and higher, carried away until they were gone from her sight. Thick grey smoke followed lazily as she exhaled.

Footsteps sounded on the paved footpath behind her, and a moment later she heard her name and three tall, male figures sat down around her, taking up the space left free on her picnic bench. Unspeaking. Still, Ellie didn't look over; she knew who they were, why they stared at her curiously, as though she was an impossible riddle they couldn't decode. She simply gazed out at the overcast sky, at the spot where the fragments of torn art parchment had disappeared on the wind. The trees whipped themselves into a frenzy above her head.

A hand touched her tentatively on the shoulder. Withdrew. A throat cleared.

"Hey," Calum's voice said softly. He was sitting opposite her; she could feel his concerned gaze trained on her face. "It's almost five o'clock. Why are you still at school?"

She looked over then, startled out of her reverie. She hadn't seen anything of Calum since that night in the park, weeks back -- but there he was, flanked on his right side by Michael, whose hair had newly been bleached platinum blonde. Luke sat beside Ellie, watching her with concern. A taut, uncomfortable silence hung between them like an invisible barricade. When did things become so tense?

Calum cleared his throat again, and Ellie realised the boys were waiting on a response from her. She'd gotten lost in her thoughts.

"Killing time," she finally said, forcing a smile and gesturing down to the pages of her art notebook. The answer didn't seem to be satisfactory; the boys all glanced at one another, conveyed silent messages only they understood, and eventually, Michael asked, "Ellie, are you sure you're alright?"