AFFLICTION- LRH

Hit Me With Your Best Shot.

Maeve's POV:

Mornings were never my favorite.

To be honest, I hated them.

When I wake up on my own, it's a totally different story, it gives me time to process the whole experience. I decide when my eyes open, when I stretch and when I get out of the comfort of the bed.

But not this morning.

Nope, this morning, I had to wake up startled because of the sound of Luke's fucking alarm.

Peaking my head up from the pillow fort I had made for myself sometime in the night, I search around to find the stupid thing, hoping to shut it off. But my eyes are met with Luke, who's jumping off the couch, pressing the button on his phone to turn off the alarm.

He walks over to the side of the bed, lifting up the piece of hair that covered my eyes to meet them with his own, "be ready in thirty."

My face immediately scrunches, "what time is it?" I groan, sitting up in the bed as my eyes stay squint.

"Seven." He says, picking up the blanket and pillow he slept with the night before and placing them on the bed, discarding any evidence of us not sleeping in the same spot.

"Ugh, why so early?" I groan, trying to pull the covers back up over my face, but immediately feel a tug to stop them.

"Because." Luke says, pulling the blanket off me completely, exposing me to the cold air of the room.

"Dammit!" I hiss, "what the hell was that for?"

"Got you up, didn't it?" He smirks, standing at the foot of the bed now as he points to me, "downstairs in thirty, Mae. Brush your teeth, shower, and wear comfortable clothing. We are going to be busy."

"I'm pretty sure I don't need you telling me how to get ready." I scoff, rubbing the goosebumps off my arms.

"See ya then." He waves me off, closing the bedroom door behind him as he leaves me alone.

"Asshole." I mumble.

After debating whether or not it was worth it to get out of the bed and start the day, I decide it's best to just listen to Luke, slowly crawling my way down and planting my feet against the freezing floor and make my way to the bathroom.

After hopping out of the shower, I use my hand to wipe the steam filled mirror, my hair dripping all over the white tiled floor as I stare at myself a moment.

The difference between when I was first brought here versus now was somewhat apparent.

I looked healthier. Stronger. The bags under my eyes would never go away, but that's just from constant years of exhaustion. I've been here almost two months now, and to think of the very first day to now was almost comical.

Luke held a gun to me any chance he got, and now he was training me for jobs that he trusts I can do.

If that's not development, I don't know what is.

I'm not going to sit here and say I trust him, because I don't. I still feel as though I'm walking on glass anytime I ask him something, especially if it's personal to him.

However, when he brings up stuff about himself, it almost gives me an easy way in.

Now, if only I could find out what the hell was in that journal he wrote in all the time.

I watched him write in it last night, and I couldn't help but to study his body movements. Anytime he was focused on what he was writing, his tongue pushed against his bottom lip, ever so lightly. His eyes would scan each word he wrote, and his lips would mimic the words being inked into the page.