The Luke Brooks Diaries

Chapter 1: Bad Day

Luke’s POV:

“This is such bullshit,” I thought to myself as I walked through the front door, slamming it behind me.

“Luke?” I heard my mom call from the kitchen.

Shit, I hadn’t realized she was home. “Hi Mom,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound as normal as possible.

“How are you, love?” She called back.

“I’m good, just tired. I think I’m gonna go lay down for a bit before me and the boys go out,” I replied as I walked to my room.

“Okay. Don’t forget to grab a bite before you leave,” she said as I closed my bedroom door.

I grabbed my guitar from the corner of my room and sat down on Jai’s bed. He always got pissed when I sat on his bed, but I told him that that was the price he had to pay if he was going to have the bottom bunk and that if he didn’t like it I would gladly switch with him. That was usually just about enough to shut him up.

I started strumming on the guitar, not really playing anything in particular, but just sort of letting my fingers pluck whatever strings they pleased. I always liked to play guitar when I was upset, it helped to clear my mind and quite frankly, I wanted to wipe any memory of the day I had just had out of my head.

I’m mean, I was used to the hate - I got hate all the time on Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, Instagram, Youtube, even when I was just walking down the streets, it just came with the territory of people knowing your name, I guess, and I was usually pretty good about letting it roll off my back. But then, every once in a while, there were those days where I just couldn’t take it anymore and I hit my breaking point. Today had been one of those days.

I was just trying to get some alone time, so I decided to catch a bus to downtown Melbourne to hang out for the day. I figured I would walk around and maybe do a little shopping, ya know, just clear my head. But my trip to the city had done anything but. All day I was being barked at with insults: faggot, cunt, bitch, fake, pussy, the whole lot; I even had my tray full of food knocked out of my hand by some prick at Maccas. I finally gave up on Melbourne and came home early, fuming after all the events of the day.

I didn’t want to tell my mom about what was going on, though. It hurt her so badly. She always took especial offense when me, my brothers or any of the boys really, were ragged on. She always said anything that they did to us, hurt her 10 times more because she was supposed to be there to protect us. So, eventually, I just stopped telling her about the haters. I didn’t like to see her upset and I knew that these feeling would pass in time. Plus I had tonight to look forward to. The boys and I were going to spend a night out in the city and knowing my friends it was bound to be a good time.