I don't need help (Luke Hemmings) /Editing/

White Liar (Edited!)

Okay hello!! This book is going to contain scenes of detailed self harm, suicidal thoughts and attempting suicide scenes, so if you don't like that stuff--please don't stop reading-- just skip those parts!

If you are a victim of self harm or are suicidal remember we all have those times in our lives where we just want to give up. Don't give up and stay strong!

If you need someone to talk to all you have to do is message me and we'll talk about it.

Ongoing major editing.

White Liar by Miranda Lambert

-

-

"Darling," My dad's voice replayed in my head. "you're going to love Australia. It's so beautiful there."

"It's hotter than London." My mum had added. "Maybe you'll get a tan or even go to the beach."

I rolled my eyes at those thoughts and continued to look out the window of the taxi.

My parents are complete ass holes. Why? Because they're making me move to another country because they couldn't 'handle me' anymore.

I mean, in only four short months I'm going to be eighteen and I'll be able to be on my own.

They just couldn't wait four months.

I balled my hands in fist wanting to just grab a blade and cut right in the cab but I knew I needed to wait until I was somewhere safe.

My cutting, is one of the main reasons why they shipped me out to Australia. Cutting makes me not go crazy but truth is I am crazy.

I can admitt to myself that I'm crazy but I don't let anyone know, I act like I'm perfect to everyone I meet or everyone I'm around.

I used to have my parents thinking it but one time I forgot to lock the damn door and my mum walked in on me.

She was pretty upset so she got me help.

Wait, let me rephrase that, she tried to get me help.

I don't need help from anyone especially someone who gets paid by the hour to get me to break down, I don't break down in front of people.

I have walls.

Walls that even bulldozers couldn't even knock down.

The cab came to a stop in front of a huge gray house with a white picket fence.

"I can get my own bags." I told the cabby quickly.

I carefully got out of the car and fully opened the popped trunk.

I pulled out all of my luggage before shutting the trunk quickly.

The cabby drove off and beeped.

Sighing, I picked up my bags and headed for the door but something.. well someone stopped me.

A blonde boy whose hair was higher than my IQ, supporting a lip ring walked closer to me giving me a huge, annoying smile.

"Hey, do you need some help?" he asked.

I shook my head "I'm good, but thank you." I gave him a big fake smile before I walked up the brick stairs leading to the front door.

I noticed the guy was still near me so I gave him a confused look.

"I live here," He informed me, before opening the door. "come in."

I cautiously stepped inside and set my bags down giving my arms a break.

"Your name is Lake right?" he questioned.

I nodded, not meeting his eyes

"Well I'm Luke." He held out his hand and I hesitantly shook it before putting it in my jumper pocket. "Annie should be home in the next hour, I'll show you up to your room."

I nodded and picked up a couple of my bags. Before I could get the other ones, Luke grabbed them for me.

I was about to say that I had them but decided to keep my trap shut.

After going up a couple flights of stairs, we walked into this hallway.

He opened the first door and I followed him into it.

"I'll let you get settled then." He set my bags down.

"Thank you." I gave him a weak smile.

He smiled back and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

I quickly locked it after him and dug in my bathroom bag.

I pulled out a pink razor and headed into the bathroom.

"Holy shit." I muttered.

This thing had to be the size of my old room back home.

Shaking that thought away, I sat on the ground and pulled my pants down so my thighs were exposed.

Worthless bitch, your own parents don't even want you.

With shaky hands, I ran it deep into my leg until the blood was gushing from it.

The pain stung a little but I ignored it. Tears were falling from my eyes but I didn't do anything about them.

Crying is not a sign of weakness, what I'm doing is.

But I don't care....I don't care at all.