after alice; book three {5sos}

seven

i'm led to the shower room as they call the detectives that i haven't seen in so long. it has been the longest month of my life. my life seems to be a never ending tragic fuck up.

the police woman who handed me the box of tissues told me before we headed into the station that i'm only an hour away from home. i've been handed a t-shirt and a pair of grey pajama bottoms and told to wash myself off before being asked a few questions. but i already know what this means: an interrogation. questions such as: why didn't you run away? why did you kill him? have you ever felt the urge to kill before? where is the cabin located? why didn't you communicate with us? why did you leave the police in the first place?

they will all be questions that doubt my ability and my truthfulness and challenge me in the most heartbreaking way. being asked why i didn't try run away is like asking a prisoner why they didn't try to escape through steel bars. it's not easy and i was never meant to escape; he made the thought of me being already at home crawl into my brain and set up camp.

the running water switches on with a squeak. i rest the odd clothes on the rack and pull the curtain firmly shut so that it sticks to the damp tiles.

i scrub away from the remnants of blood staining my hands and my skin. in the reflection of the shower tap i notice there's blood beside my eye and smeared on my cheek.

i close my eyes and tilt my head back, feeling the hot water washing away the terrible. it doesn't make me forget i was ever kidnapped and that i killed louis, but it seems to peel back the first layer. it has sunk in and it doesn't feel as terrible anymore.

but the isolation does. i keep telling myself that i can do this - i may be alone, with no friends and no family, but i can still succeed with my life, can't i? however i can't stop thinking about the breath i stole away and i fight back my tears as the sounds of his chest puncturing again and again rings in my ears. yet oh, it felt too good.

i feel hot breath against my neck, the steam exessive. a fingertip presses against the back of my thigh, gently stroking. lips attach to my neck and i throw my head back slightly.

"oh god, luke." i reach my hand over my shoulder, my fingertips tracing luke's face and tugging at the hair at the side of his face.

and then i realise. i spin around, the terror filling my veins. "luke?" i yell out, the panic bouncing off of the tiled cubicle wall.

and he really is here, stood infront of me, feeling so real as i trace my fingers through his hair with my mouth open slightly in shock. i keep tracing my fingers through his hair, missing this feeling as he stares down at me, the water gently running over his nose, cheeks and lips.

"luke?" i whisper.

"yeah, soph."

i collapse against his bare chest, my arms wrapped around his neck. he's alive, oh he's alive. i knew he always was; he has always be strong.

i rest my ear against his chest so that i can try and hear the beat of his heart.

"i love you, i love you so much, luke." i wrap my arms tighter around him, my naked body pressed against his.

"i love you too, soph. never stop being strong, okay? you have been through too much and been strong all the way, so don't let anything else make you lose that strength and give up. you deserve all the happiness in the world and i'm so sorry that all of this is happening to you."

all i can do is cry against his chest, the salt of my tears mixing with the shower water. "i'm so glad you're back. things will be easier now, i already know it. i-" beneath the running water, i realise i cannot hear his heartbeat. there isn't one. "where? where is your heartbeat?" i frantically glance up at him with tears is in my eyes and resume listening again. "where is it, luke?"

i look up at him through glossy eyes.

"baby," he sniffles with empathy and wraps his arms around my waist. "i already told you. you need to stop forgetting. remember to be strong and that i'm always looking out for you."

"no, luke. your heartbeat, where is it?"

"i'm still gone," he stares down at me, his nose running and tears falling from his eyes. "i always will be. i may be gone but i'm everywhere that i was never able to be when alive. i'm all around you. i'm in the stars and i'm down on this earth."

"but you're here."

"i'm paying you a visit. am i not allowed to do that?"

"yes, of course you are." i place my ear against his chest again and hear the silence. i feel the coolness of his skin that i haven't realised yet.

he is gone, yet he is everywhere at the same time. he is up above in the stars and down on this earth. he is everywhere. yet where was he when i was locked away in the cabin, silently crying? where was he was i kept throwing up in the toilet after eating with louis and waking up beside him?

"i will look up at the stars," i choke out. "and i will see you, will i?"

"yeah, you will, baby." i feel him press a kiss to the top of my head, his hands gently holding onto my waist.

and tighten my hold on him, yet my arms are empty. i stumble forward, falling through the stream of the shower.

he's gone.

my scalp prickles from where he just kissed me.

i burst into tears, yet they are silent, pained tears. tears that scream heartache in the silence. my back is pressed against the cool, damp tiles, and i slide down them as the tears silently fall.

and then the wailing comes.

i cannot stop myself from loudly crying in this public shower room. i wrap my arms around my naked legs, tucking my knees beneath my chin.

an hour must have already passed. i wash the blood from my hair and throw it into a knot on top of my head, the steam rising to my head and making me feel light and dazed.

my eyes are burning slightly from the crying and i manage to shakily pull back the curtain and collapse onto the bench, wrapping the towel around me.

my clothes are slung over the rack within the cubicle, most likely damp from the steam and water. but i completely forget about them as the urge to throw up washes over me. it comes all at once as i sprint for the door, gripping onto my towel to retain my modesty. no body is around and i burst into the toilets next door, the cubicle door slamming the cucible wall, and i throw up.

my knees and palms become dirty as i kneel on the tiles and grip the toilet seat. after emptying the contents of my stomach, i flush the toilet and wash my hands. this is what anxiety does to me.