hotline // luke hemmings

six.

Skylar

Luke stared at me intently, nodding slowly.

I took a deep breath, already starting to feel the tears burn in my eyes. I barely know Luke, but I feel like I can trust him.

If he leaves, he wasn't worth it in the first place, I reminded myself.

"Okay, um, well my dad died when I was like eight. He got in a car crash on the way to pick me up from school. It messed my mom up. She drank and cried all the time. I barely saw her. Eventually she came around, but only when the state threatened to take me away from her.

She started to sort of become my mom again. Then she got this boyfriend," I choked on a sob. Just the thought of him was almost too much.

Luke took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "If it's too much you don't have to tell me," he reminded me. I shook my head, determined to finish.

"He was so nice to me at first. He would take me everywhere and help me with my homework and get me through the days when my mom was too sad. I don't know what happened, but after a
while it stopped. He was mean and bitter, and always drunk. He started beating me a couple years ago. It had stopped for a little, but it happened again last night. My mom knows, but she doesn't care. She's rarely ever home, I have no idea where she goes. It all got a little too much last year. I tried to kill myself," I sobbed. Luke pulled me into his chest, letting me calm myself down. I took a deep breath.

"Calum found me in my room with a gun pressed to my forehead and blood pouring from my wrists. If it wasn't for him I would be dead. He saved my life, he even put me through therapy where I got somewhat better. I decided I wanted to help people like myself, so I joined the hotline team. It's still hard, but I'm trying to get better," I finished.

Luke looked at me with sad eyes. He brought his thumb to my cheek, wiping at my fresh tears.

"I'm so sorry Skylar. Oh my God I'm so sorry," he whispered, pulling me into his embrace. I let my tears soak his shirt.

"I feel like I owe you an explanation," he mumbled into my hair.

I looked up, nodding at him. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

"A couple weeks ago, my little sister killed herself. I was out with Ashton when I got a call from her. She kept telling me she loved me. She was sobbing and I knew something was wrong. I had Ashton take me home, but it was too late. She was hanging from her fan by the time I got to her," he sobbed. His whole body was shaking. It was my turn to pull him close to me.

"It's all my fault. I didn't even notice that she was sad. She was so full of life. She was my best friend and I didn't even know that she was suffering," he croaked. He was sobbing so violently I was surprised he didn't make himself sick.

"Shh," I cooed. "None of that is your fault. Do you know how many people hide their suffering? I promise you that it wasn't in any way your fault, okay? I don't know your sister, but I know she wouldn't want you beating yourself up over this."

He stayed quiet, the only sounds coming from our soft cries.

"Thank you," he whispered after a while.

"For what?"

"For saving me."