Heaven || luke hemmings [HIATUS]

Chapter 2

A/N so yeah, eventually I'm going to go into present time even though I'm really enjoying fetus but, if you guys like fetus I can keep if going for a longer time period if you like! Im going to try and update regularly but I don't have a schedule right now /: just a warning, this story is going to be quite sad in some aspects of it but it's not going to be mopey all the time but it will have it's depressing moments! Please don't hate me! I like doing tear jerking stories because I feel they have a bigger impact than most stories I write and I like making my readers feel emotions and stuff like that, anyway, please read and vote because it makes my day!!! Xx

"Hey." I hear someone speak up from behind me. My head whirls around to see his blonde hair and blue eyes set on mine intently.

"What do you want, luke?" I ask him with my voice shaking violently.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" His eyes widen at my appearance. I can't tell how he meant that statement. Was that supposed to be and insult or was he actually concerned?

"What do you care?" I turn from him and stare out and the empty street. I decide to sit up straight. I don't want Luke seeing me curled up on the concrete in my most vulnerable state.

"I never said I cared." He says flatly.

"Exactly." I mutter and secretly hope he doesn't hear me and he'll just go away. He hasn't been pleasant at all today and I just met him.

I hear him sigh loudly followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. I turn around to see that he went inside the house right next to mine. Not only does he live in my neighborhood but he happens to live right next to me. Perfect. The last thing I need is more cruel people on my back.

A slight breeze picks up and plays with my locks of dark hair that hang in a loose ponytail now. I silence my hiccups but the tears don't stop. I make no sound as empty tears slide down my cheeks, leaving them soaked. I put my head in my hands for a few moments before my eyes trail over the layered bracelets on my right wrist. I lift my my head and bring my free hand to unclasp the largest bracelet, letting it fall to the solid concrete next to me.

As the bracelet leaves my skin, small, pale lines are revealed for the first time in a couple days. I look at them and I remember each reason why these are left on the soft, imperfect skin of my wrist. Each scar has a reason and I remember each one. There was one for each time my mother had let her rough hands strike my cheek, one for every insult my father chucked at me, one for every time I hated what I saw in the mirror, one for every time I felt like it was the end, one for every time I felt alone. My self hatred never spread anywhere but my wrists and I had managed to contain it, somehow. Now I'm not sure how much longer I can keep clean.

I haven't cut myself since the twenty fourth of May last year. I don't know what stopped me from putting a blade to my skin, but something did. But I can feel it now. I feel myself slowly getting sucked back into those ways. Honestly, it felt good to quit and I never want to go back. I have been clean for close to seven months now since it's near the end of January. It was nice not having to worry about people seeing what I did to myself, not having to scrub the blood from the bathroom, or having to find good hiding places for the things I used to destroy myself with. My parents wouldn't care but part if me just needed to hide it from everyone including the ones that wouldn't care. It's more twisted that I did that sort if stuff when I was twelve.

A twelve year old self harming. It's fucked up, I know it is. But I have always been more aware of how the world works than most kids my age. I guess you could classify me as being more mature than most. Most people my age or at least at my school probably don't even know the concept of suicide or self harm. If they did they wouldn't suspect a thing from me at least. I keep to myself and try to keep myself unnoticed by the school population. I'm clean now though. I'm thirteen and clean. For how much longer, I don't know.

My heavy eyes keep themselves on my uncovered wrist, reliving the memories of the year I inflicted these scars on myself.

"Hey...I just uh, wanted to apolog-" the now familiar Australian accent startles me and my eyes frantically shoot to luke who is staring at me with wide eyes. I hadn't even heard him come back outside...

Oh no.

Did he see them?

Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Luke- I." I fumble around with my words and look for a believable excuse because I know he definitely saw the scars. "I got attacked by a cat." I spit out eventually. That was the shittiest excuse ever.

His shocked expression leaves as he sighs, shaking his head and rakes his fingers through his hair and takes a seat next to me on the curb.

"I not an idiot, violet." He sighs. How does he even know my name? "Let me see them." The look in his eyes says that he actually cares but I recoil as his hand grazes my wrist.

"No." I say, stealing his flat tone. "You have been nothing but a jerk to me all day."

"Look, I know I wasn't the most friendly, but I came out here to apologize." He tells me. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

I let out an empty laugh. "I know what this is about." I say. "I don't need your sympathy."

And I really didn't need any sympathy. That's why they stayed hidden. I refuse to be that attention seeker everyone would think I was if they knew what I did to myself.

"Who said anything about sympathy?" Be pulls his hands back to his sides.

"Oh please," I start. "it's always about fucking sympathy! You people think you know me? You think you know what these scars mean? You don't know shit!" I spit as my voice escalates into a yell. "Everyone always feel sorry for me, when in reality they couldn't give a flying fuck! I don't need a string of apologies that mean absolutely nothing! The only reason you say sorry is because you think I'm a pathetic attention seeker! I don't fucking need it!"

He laughs. "Wow, and you said I have the colorful vocabulary."

I sigh and turn away from him, my furious words of anger disappearing as my mind clears and I calm down.

"I never said sorry, now did I?" His voice rings out, breaking the heavy silence. A certain something in his words sound much more serious than how he laughed a few moments ago, and it is clear to me that it's not an act, and he actually may care.

~*~

That afternoon changed a lot. After I stopped being so rigid, I opened up and told luke about what goes on with me. The scars, self hate, abusive parents, all of it. I'm at war with myself though, wondering if I can trust luke, or if he'll be yet another reason why I hate existence.

He told me things too. He told me about his mom, how she was sweet and kind, and about his dad, how he was just an alcohol-abusing asshole. So, we could realate. He went through shit too, but his scars are left on his mind, not his wrists. His are eternally carved into his thoughts as mine are eternally and literally carved on my wrists and thoughts, in a way.

I came to the conclusion we were both aware of how the world actually worked, how awful it could actually be. But there was one thing in particular that Luke said that flipped my world upside down.

He made me promise to stop. Stop cutting, I mean.

And that's what I did.

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A/N now is where the story actually starts, no more fetus, but it'll still be good! Xx