Long Way Home ; muke [completed]

5*

TRIGGER WARNING * SELF-HARM

Luke's POV

I ran into a door. My cat scratched me. A soccer ball hit me.

All the lies I've told to hide the fact that I'm being abused by my parents.

My own parents. My own damn parents. How could they sit there and criticize me? Their own son? Their only child? What the hell goes through my mother's mind as she raises her hand to hit me? As her eyes glaze over looking at the bruise she left?

What about my father? What is he thinking when he glares at me and tells me to lay off the chips or that I'm a failure?

I'm surprised I haven't scared away Ashton yet, or even Michael. I did drunkenly climb into his window at 2AM, and he still likes me?

Maybe my parents are right.

Maybe I should listen to my mom when she says that I need to stop being such a loser and get a girlfriend. Or when my dad tells me to do something productive with my life.

The kids at school tease me, too. They tell me to kill myself, to die. That everyone would be better off without me, but Ashton doesn't know they taunt me like that, and if he did, they'd be the ones dead.

My cheek still stung. Not as much as before, but still there. I didn't know who to turn to. Ashton would flip if he knew they abused me, and Michael probably doesn't want to hear about my problems.

Die.

Tears no longer gushed down my cheeks, but it still felt as they were falling. I got myself up from the bed, sneaking into the bathroom and locking the door behind me.

Do it.

I slid down against the door, hitting the cold tile floor. Inhaling deeply, I mustered all the courage I had remaining and peeked under the sink.

There they were.

The shiny razors that seemed to be waiting for me; hiding behind a tub full of ponytails, bobby pins, and other hair accessories that belonged to my mother.

It will help relieve the pain.

I grabbed one and sighed deeply. I felt so worthless, so lonely. I didn't have a place in this world. Nothing mattered to me anymore.

I slowly and carefully dragged the razor across my wrist, the blood oozing out and the pain noticeable, but covered by my itch to relieve the inner conflict.

"Luke!"

No.

"Luke!" It was my mother. She's home. Shit. I shoved the razor back under the sink and hastily unlocked the door, standing up and placing a band-aid over my cut. I didn't even have enough time to continue.

"Hi mom," I said, my hands shaking. Was she going to hit me?

She smiled, but it wasn't sincere. "I'm making dinner, are you going to eat with us?"

"Um, yeah, sure," I nodded. Dinner shouldn't be too bad, maybe she had a good day and wouldn't be so cruel. "What are you making?"

"Pea soup, dad's favorite." You mean, my least favorite as well?

She turned on her heel and walked away, leaving me alone in the doorway. Maybe I should get out of here before she makes dinner... because yuck, pea soup?

I decided I'd give Ashton a call to see if he wanted to go to a diner down the street, but then I remembered my phone has been shattered by my oh-so-loving father.