We the fools

Chapter 12: Death and Recall...

I open my eyes, and they focus on a white fan occupying the ceiling. I blink and open them again. I lay there quietly as I take in my surroundings. A large room with pale blue walls, blink 182 and Nirvana posters covering the walls, and other band posters littering the place. I breath silently as I remember the events of last night, my reunion with the house, the memories, my crying, Luke comforting.

He had taken me in his arms, his soft jumper smelling of mint, and him, rubbing against my cheek as I cry myself to exhaustion on the threshold if my very own house of horrors. He had gotten up, still holding me, and carried me to his car while I sobbed. Oblivious to the world around me. The last thing I remembered was the worried look on a mothers face as I was carried down a hallway.

I hear a click to my right and I turn my head as light floods the large room, making the posters on the wall shiny and the eggshell blue walls seem even paler. A blond quiffed head pokes through the door and my blurry vision takes in Luke, carrying a heavy wooden tray. he has a concerned look on his face.

He clears his throat, setting the tray down on the table beside me and sitting on the edge of the bed before speaking.

"Hey," he says softly. "How are you going"

I give a small, forced smile.

"I've been worse"

Luke nibbles on his lip ring, worried, and unsure.

"Do you want to talk?"

I shake my head, declining his offer.

We sit in silence for a while, staring up at the small white fan rotating slowly. I shift under the blankets and realize that I'm not in my own clothes, I am wearing black boxers and a torn nirvana shirt. I furrow my eyebrows looking up to see Luke looking at me questionably.

"How-"

"It took self control. Let's not talk about that" Luke says quickly, avoiding my gaze.

He shifts uncomfortably, his cheeks are red, as I presume mine are.

Well this is awkward.

I sit there in silence, thinking about my past.

"You know, it helps to talk about things... to get it off your chest."

"Luke, you wouldn't understand. My past is difficult, and sensitive. You would just laugh, I'm being silly."

"Do you really think that low of me?" he asks

"No- I just, I mean" I look down at the blankets, twisting them between my hands, not daring to look up.

He sighs sadly, shifting so he is sitting upright next to me,

"Just try me, I won't laugh I promise, and I don't think your silly." he pushes a few loose strands from my head but I jerk away. His face falls and he drops his hands to his lap, looking down at them before looking back up at me.

"When.." I begin

"When I was little, my mother and father argued a lot. Everybody told me that they were just growing through a rough patch, but I was too young, the explanation didn't help me understand. Then one day, when I was about seven, I remember being in my room, and hearing loud bangs down stairs. I heard my mum cry out, and I ran downstairs. She was lying on the floor, just lying on the floor, cowering as he stood over her, yelling. He had hit her Luke, hit her!"

My voice cracks as a tear slides down my cheek and Luke moves to put his arm around my shoulders, pulling me in, and I rest my head in his chest, taking a deep breath before continuing,

"I remember crying out, running up to my mum, wrapping my arms around her, as she just cowered on the floor, afraid of the man she loved. and my father came up to her, trying to get to her and he was yelling, how she didn't love him anymore. how she had found a new man too love, and he yelled to me that she didn't live me anymore either, and how she wanted to leave us. I yelled at him that it wasn't true. That she did love me, and him, but when i looked at her she avoided his gaze, and looked me in the eye, saying how she loved me more than anyone else in the world, but how she didn't love daddy anymore, because he wasn't the man he used to be. He wasn't the kind, loving man who gave her roses every Tuesday out of his pay. My father got angry and started to kick her, in the ribs, in the dace, in the chest. I screamed at him over, and over, and over to stop, that she could love him again, if he would just let her. I remember grabbing his leg, and he got angry and kicked me in the stomach, and I skidded across the floor. it hurt so much. When I opened my eyes again I saw her in the floor still, blood all over her face and chest, and my father standing over her with a broken bottle. I had crawled over to her body, my ribs were fractured, and I remember touching her cheek, yelling her name over and over again. But she didn't reply. She never did."