Control » l.h

Chapter Three

"Luke," I breathed as his own breath hit my face. "Please."

A smiled spread across his features. "You think I'd intentionally hurt you? That's funny."

I gave him a quizzical look. "I-I don't understand."

He slowly brought his hand up to cup my chin, his eyes fading back to blue. I slightly flinched at his soft touch. He stroked my cheek with his thumb, his tongue licking his bottom lip as he studied my face.

"The last thing I'd ever want to do, Jemma, is hurt you." he told me.

I shook my head. "You're hurting me by keeping me captive here."

His face broke. His blue eyes filled with sadness and as he pulled back from me. I found myself able to move. When he controlled me, it was like there was a force keeping me still as he wanted. That feeling was gone. I felt less restricted. But I didn't move back. I watched the distressed boy in front of me.

"I know," he sighed, leaning his head back against the headboard. "That's what sucks about this."

"Why don't you let me go?" I wondered.

"I can't, Jemma!" he yelled, bringing his head forward and throwing it back. It shook the bed. "I can't. I'm sorry."

For once, I reached out for him. When my hand made contact with his tight, black jeans, he seemed to relax a little. "Can't you explain why?"

He sighed deeply, his eyes flickering to me. He placed his big, callused hand over mine before staring off somewhere once again.

"I don't know why I'm like this," he began. "I don't remember anything up until I was three. My first memory was being in my mom's house with my two brothers and my dad. I was normal as a kid. But then when I turned fifteen, I wasn't the same anymore. I started getting more aggressive. I figured it ran in the family. My dad could get really angry sometimes. He had to go to anger management, but it wasn't working for him. But one day, I-"

His voice cut off as his eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over and down his face. I found myself scooting closer to the boy who had taken me captive only hours ago. Was it hours? How long was I even out?

"Luke," I said his name softly. "It's okay."

He nodded, taking a deep breath. "My dad hit my mom. I got so mad. I didn't even know what I was doing. It's like I'm taken over. My mom wouldn't go near me. My brothers tried to pull my arm down, but I wouldn't budge. Finally, Jack and Ben pushed me backwards with everything they got. It just made me angrier. I turned to them, about to strangle them too. My mom started crying and screaming for me to stop. Before I knew it, I was looking at my cowering brothers and my mother, huddled together, crying. My dad was laying in a heap five yards away from me. I ran away."

Luke looked so vulnerable as tears slid down his cheeks. He sniffed, wiping them away with the back of his hand. This teenager suddenly looked like he was five. He looked lost and broken beyond fixing. I moved closer, wiping the tears away with my thumb. I left my hand on his cheek. He smiled, leaning into my hand.

"This is why I need you," he said in a warm mumble. "You're so understanding."

"I know what it's like to feel the way you do." I told him.

Luke's eyes bored into mine as he looked at me. He took my hand from his face, holding my fingertips to his lips. "You don't know how terrified I was when I saw you on that roof."

It brought me back to the question: how long had I been here? But my thoughts were brought elsewhere as Luke's warm breath fanned over my fingers, his lips brushing them gently. I had to squeeze my eyes shut to even think properly.

"Luke," I said, my voice wavering. I cleared my throat. "How long have I been out?"

He shrugged, looking down at my hand still under his. "Three days."