Bruises • Luke Hemmings a.u

One.

A/N
This story is for mature readers only due to sexual content and also sexual content regarding consensual sex between step relations. Characters regarding this matter are above the age of 16 (which is the age of consent in my country). If this makes you uncomfortable, then please don't read.
Additional warning: Themes of bereavement, sadness, mentions of rape, alcoholism, consensual sexual content of people under the age of 18, anger, and mild violence - I will add to this as the story continues, and notice anything else worth noting. - please, if you notice something you believe should be a warning, do let me know.

One.

I remember when life used to feel simple, when my mum was still alive and it was just me and her. I remember when she would pick me up from school in her old, rusted car, and she would take me to the park instead of going straight home, and as I've gotten older, I've realised these days corresponded with when she couldn't afford to pay the electricity bill, and we had no power.

I remember how she used to pack a picnic for us that was made up of almost out of date sandwiches, the bread boarder-line stale.
I remember throwing my crusts to the ducks in the pond, because my mum always said that eating the crust would make my hair grow curly, and I never wanted curly hair.

Thinking back now, I think I was supposed to want curly hair, and that's why she said it. Even though I know it's ridiculous to think that eating your crust would give you curly hair, she must have been right, because looking at myself in the mirror now, trying to curl my long brown and annoyingly perfectly straight hair, I regret not eating my crusts as a child.

"Helen, are you nearly ready? You're going to be late," My stepdad, Luke says, peeking his head around my bedroom door.

I look at his reflection in the mirror. Soft dark blond hair, styled purposefully messy. His bright blue eyes are playful, and his face sports slight stubble. A small black hoop homed through the right side of his bottom lip.  "Almost," I answer him.

He glances at his watch, then looks to me again. "You have five minutes. I'll be waiting in the car," he says, then gently shuts the door behind him.

My mum died two years ago in a car accident. She was driving home from work, the roads icy, and the police reports say she lost control of the vehicle.

It was a tragedy. She was too young, and had spent most of her life struggling. Then when things were finally going right, finally going her way for once, meeting the love of her life, starting a new career, it was suddenly all just... gone. She was gone.

Luke and I have never really discussed it. A sore subject for the both of us. It shattered my world, just as much as it did his. She was all I'd ever known, and I think she was all Luke ever wanted to know.

She got pregnant with me very young. I was an accident, a pregnancy she didn't expect, but she could never bring herself to get rid of me, to my grandparents dismay, which is why she ran away, raising me alone. Every day must have been a struggle. Survival. But hell, she did it, and she will always be an inspiration to me.

On the day of her funeral,  Luke and I kept to ourselves. The pain of the loss too much for either of us to handle. Both unsure of how to share the pain. Make it work together.

I don't think she has ever been discussed between the two of us at all since she died, and the funeral arrangements were made. A small event, with only those closest to her attending. Luke and myself of course, her sister and her sister's husband, who both traveled down from Scotland, and a few work colleagues. It was small and intimidate and exactly how my mother would have wanted it. And my grandparents were no where to be seen. Not that I would recognise them if they we to had shown up.