Jeopardy - A Luke Brooks fanfic (Contains Self Harm And Triggering Topics)

1. Living a lie.

I locked my bedroom door, to keep the other care kids out, and picked up the blade from my bedside cabinet. "Don't do it Saskia." Said the voice in my head. The other voice in my head interjected, "you're worthless, no one will ever love you, you deserve to die." I pulled up the bottom of my shirt, my stomach was the only place I could cut without people noticing. My hand trembled, I always felt nervous, in case the physical pain didn't take away the pain I felt in my heart, and in my soul, this time. I took a deep breath and pressed the blade deep into my hip, tracing previous scars, cutting deeper, gasping as blood poured over my hand. I dragged the blade through my flesh, letting the wound open up and gritted my teeth. When I cut, the only thing I focused on was the pain, it distracted me from the real world. It was weirdly comforting, I didn't have a real reason behind it, it was something I couldn't explain, I just knew I couldn't stop.

After ten minutes of drawing on my skin with the blade, I washed it in the sink, in the corner of my room, and hid it back under the magazine on my bedside table. I used a clean, red sock, pressed against my hip, to soak up the blood. Tears formed in my eyes and began to fall as I peeled the sock away, displaying the cuts and scars I had inflicted on myself. I never wanted a life like this, I never wanted to be abandoned and have horrific flashbacks playing over in my head. Every second of every day I saw my mothers face, my beautiful mother, choking on her own blood, with her throat slit. My own father stood over her with a knife, he spat on her struggling body and said, "I hope you rot in hell, whore." Those words still rang through my head, since I was six years old. 11 years of nightmares, therapy and loneliness followed.

My phone vibrated in my pocket suddenly, I fumbled around with keys, empty chewing gum wrappers and receipts until I finally pulled it from my pockets. It was Luke. Luke had been my best friend for almost two years, when I'd started my first job at 16. I walked into the cafe, a gorgeous boy with dark hair and dark eyes stood behind the counter, a similar looking boy stood on the same side of the counter as me. They were identical twins, I noticed the one behind the counter had a name badge, Luke. "I'm here for an interview at 2." I said shyly and he took me over to a table. One week later, Luke and I were inseparable. We spent every day together in that cafe, I spent evenings at his house with Jai, his twin brother, Beau, his older brother, Skip and James, their friends. Our friends.

Each night I'd return, unknown to the care home, I'd never been fostered or adopted, I was a troubled child, no one could handle me. As I got older, I watched as my friends all got taken away, when I turned 14, I stopped making friends. I was the weird, older girl that all the younger children were scared of. I turned 18 in a month, this meant I'd be able to get my own flat, I'd finally be free of social workers and have some privacy of my own. One month and I didn't have to hide anything from Luke anymore, it would be like I was never in care. I unlocked my phone and held it to my ear,

Luke: Saskia?

Saskia: Luke?

Luke: Seeing as its Sunday, and we're not working today, do you fancy coming along for the new DareSundays video?

Saskia: Sure.

Luke: I'll get Beau to pick you up on the way, see you in five.

Saskia: umm make it fifteen and you've got a deal!

Luke: ugh girls. See you soon gorgeous.

Saskia: see you soon Lukey.

I folded a red, paisley scarf into a thin strip, wrapped it around my head and tied it in a small bow, my blonde, messy bun peeking out at the back. I covered my body up with a white hockey jersey and pulled up my leggings. I slipped on my red blazers and grabbed my handbag. "Steve, I'm going out!" I yelled to my social worker, before slamming the door behind me. I had exactly seven minutes to go to the usual spot. It was a grassy patch, next to a bus stop, near some large houses. The boys had always believed I lived in one of those houses, and they would always believe that.