Looking For Now↣l.h

9. Closure

"Get up." A voice instructs from my doorway, much too early. I pull the blanket up over my face, and mutter back a "no."

Who the hell is trying to get me up at this hour anyways? I'm sure breakfast doesn't start for at least another two hours, there isn't even light coming in through the window yet. Of course, I'm not getting up now. Especially after what happened yesterday. I almost thought that it was all an awful nightmare, then I realized I was in different clothes than yesterday. I honestly just want to die. The life I'm living now is hell. I'm trapped inside this mental institution and the whole reason I'm here has left me.

"Cora, get out of bed, right now." The voice sounds impatient, and now that I'm more awake I can depict it as Luke's. He of all people should know that I'm not going to want to wake up right now, or at all really.

"Luke, I'm not getting up. You might as well just leave," I say in a monotone voice through the thin covers.

Suddenly, the blankets are ripped off of me, and I reach up trying to cover my arms. Fuck. After I changed, I didn't put on my sweatshirt, only a t-shirt. Now my bruised arms are exposed.

I reach to grab them before they slip to the ground, but it's too late. I sit up in my bed with my arms wrapped over my chest, trying unsuccessfully to hide the last evidence of my past. Luke's eyes go wide as he takes in just how damaged I truly am. He slowly sits next to me on the small cot, and opens his mouth then closes it, as thought he can't figure out what exactly to say.

"Cora..." He whispers raising his gaze to meet my eyes.

"Please don't say your sorry, or any of that shit. I don't need your pity," I look away from him and stare down at my criss-crossed legs.

"What happened?" He reaches out, and gently touches one of the seven purple marks decorating my pale arms. I flinch away from his touch, and he immediately retracts his arm.

I shake my head slowly before replying, "I really don't want to talk about it."

"You'll have to eventually."

"Okay," I answer shortly, determined not to let eventually be today.

"Well, I told Walter I could relieve him for a few hours, so he could have a break. I thought maybe you'd want some fresh air, and I had an idea, but you have to get out of bed first."

"I don't want to." I state simply.

"Please?" He begs, and I briefly consider it before deciding nothing he has to show me is worth leaving my bed.

"No."

"I know why you want to stay in here," he says and I raise an eyebrow curiously wondering why he thinks so, "you would rather sit here sulking and being alone, than even trying to get out and get better. You want to be alone in pity about your past, without even trying to move forward. Some day your going to have to get out of your self-pity."

As soon as the words leave his lips, anger stirs in my chest. How dare he say that about me? He doesn't know what my past was or why I'm really here. I come up with a few smart remarks to fire back, and show the ass hole he doesn't know what he's talking about, but a part of me knows he's right. I'm sitting in my room loathing everything about my life, when did I become this pathetic? I want to prove him wrong, so I bite back all of my rude remarks.

"Alright. Let's go."

He gives me a perplexed look, and the corners of his lip twitch into a small smile. I ignore him and stand up pulling on my sweatshirt, and immediately feeling less exposed and more comfortable. I slip on the same black flats I arrived here in and cross my arms waiting for him to get up, and show me whatever the hell seems to be so important.