Mend Me? ➸ hemmings a.u

21. Go

A/N: after a painful period of writer's block and a never ending supply of school work I present you this. If you haven't given up on me you are amazing, hope you enjoy x

He recounted these events to me quietly, with wide eyes and a heaving chest. It was as if his lungs tightened at each word that spilled from his lips.

Emotions ranging from tidal waves of anger to flames of utter sadness pumped through my veins. I closed my eyes and was encircled by the darkness of a living night.

His lips. The lips that I'd kissed. Were they the same ones that had just admitted murder? Those eyes, piercing through mine as if they were fighting to read my mind. I couldn't help but wish them luck, as not even I could decipher this hurricane of disbelief and horror.

My eyes shot open at the sound of him moving. He started to shake, and there was nothing my body could do but watch as he slipped from his kneeling position and start sobbing. He raised his hands to his face, and I focused on his fingers, pulling painfully at his hair. Those fingers. The ones that held my hand the weightless night, the ones he fiddles with when he's nervous, were the same ones that had murdered Rose Anderson.

We both jumped when we heard a creak behind us. I spun around and saw Michael enter, his hand slowly reaching down asking for mine. He kept his eyes locked on Luke, staring at him completely void of emotion. Not knowing what else to do, I took his hand, and mine immediately turn white from his grip. He pulled, but I remained seated on the floor of Luke's bedroom. My body was stiff, as if glue had dried in my veins and muscles. His eyes found mine for a moment before instantly locking once more on Luke. "Ava," he whispered. I focused on moving, and only moving. Training my thoughts on the simple task of standing allowed my mind a brief moment of normality. He pulled me out of the room.

Flashes of Luke's recount forced their way into my vision. All I could see were the flames burning Rose alive.

This tight grip persisted during the commotion that ensued. The door slamming behind me sent an echo throughout the house, Luke's mum shouted words of concern I couldn't comprehend, Michael's feet made me jump each time they collided with a step and my heart refused to stop screeching in my chest. I could barely register my own thoughts, as my mind was being drowned in what sounded like Rose's screams that felt like nails scraping against my eardrums.

As Michael opened the front door, Luke's opened behind us. I looked behind me just in time to see Luke standing at the top of the stairs, his arms lifeless dangling at his sides. I was a rag doll being dragged across the front lawn. "Y-you heard?" I stuttered. Michael pulled me towards his car. He stopped at the boot and turned around, pulling his phone out of his pocket. I watched his fingers shake putting in his pin code. "Michael, what are you doing?" My voice was a quiet whimper. "Calling the police," he stated simply.

My lungs filled with something like burning oil. "No!" I reached for his phone and he pulled back quickly. He shook his head slowly. "Why?" He asked, his voice terrifyingly menacing. I cowered.

I don't know why.

"It's Luke," I whispered. His jaw clenched as he leaned down to my face. "You're going to let a murderer walk free because of a stupid crush?!" He yelled in my face. "Be quiet," I responded. He turned around and punched the roof of his car. "You've truly lost your mind Ava Moore," he said as he opened the driver's door and sat inside.

Have I? Any person in their right state of mind would call the police in a heartbeat. But I wasn't in the right state of mind. I'd just found out the boy I'm in love with killed someone. If any Ava's had the power to swap universes, they would have done so now. No Ava would let me love him. But I did. I found myself through this boy, and he found himself through me. A sickening weight found its way to my stomach.

"It's my fault," I croaked out. Michael stared at me in shock. "What did you say?" He asked. "My fault," I repeated.

He started the car. "Michael, wait!" I stepped towards the window. "Listen, Ava. You can choose now to get inside and come to the police station with me, or stay here and make out with a murderer. Your choice." I was frozen at his words. "Great," he mumbled, placing his hands on the steering wheel. He looked at me one last time, and the tough act he'd been putting on vanished in a millisecond. His expression would have looked natural on a tiny kitten.

"Why are you doing this Av-" "Do it." His broken voice was cut off by Luke's. I spun around and saw him only metres from me. I shook my head. "Do it. I deserve it," he nodded. "And never say it was your fault, Ava. You helped me," "exactly," I replied. "No, you helped me realise there was a way out," "exactly!" I shouted. "Ava, you reminded me what happiness was. I couldn't let my happiness get hurt. And now you won't. That's enough for me," he told me. "We can get through it," I replied. Michael sobbed in the car, his head pressed against the steering wheel. "Get through what?" He raised his arms. "What you did," I answered softly. His lips quivered. "We can't get through something like that. Please go," his last plead was a whimper. Luke's door opened, and his mother, who'd been watching the scene, spoke. "Come inside, Luke," she held her hand out. Luke turned back towards me. "Go," he mouthed once more, but I didn't respond.

I watched him walk across the lawn, his feet crushing the grass and the pounding of my heart being the only sounds I heard. Once he was inside, I made my way to the passenger's seat and stared blankly at the dashboard. Michael stared at me, eyes rimmed with a bright red. He placed a hand over mine. "Ava Moore, how can I stop loving you?"