Fall (Luke Hemmings)

two.

hi guys. shit day, so if this chapter is shit  too, I apologize. loveyou.

"Please, no. Not Jamie, no! NO!" I screamed at my foster brother's cold face as he twists my actual brother's arm behind his back so that he shrieks in pain. When did everything become so screwed up, so fundamentally wrong?

"You little shit, you better scream. You think you can just look through my stuff, can touch it and get away with it? Well, news flash, you son of a bitch, you can't. Understand?" The color of my brothers blue eyes is blurred from the tears in his eyes as he shakes his head up and down.

"Jason? Jason, honey, is everything alright?" My foster mother's voice rings out. I close my eyes in relief, I didn't realize that they would be home. apparently, neither did Jason.

"Of course, Mum, Jamie just tripped and skinned his knee, right, J?" He smoothly answers, malice in his eyes as he mimes punching Jamie.

~

I shoot up, sweat dripping down my back and chills wracking my body as I slowly come to the realization that it was just a nightmare. Just a dream, just a dream. A shrill noise rings out through the drafty flat, bringing me to my feet before I remember that I was forced to get a phone when I started applying to jobs; people needed a way to reach me.

Wrapping my arms around my thin frame, I stumble through the hallways until I find the phone, bringing it to my ear.

"Hello?"

"Scarlett?..." The voice is familiar, though I can't quite place it.

"Yes, that's me. What is it?" I bite my lip, that sounded rude, and whoever it is, I probably shouldn't offend them. "I mean, how may I help you?" Better.

"It's Ms. Mailly, from R.M. Wills Psychologist Office? I was just calling to let you know that you got the job. Obviously, we will need to teach you the semantics, so if you could come in tomorrow or the day after that during work hours, and just observe, that would be best...Scarlett?" I am in utter shock. I got the job. I won't have to leave, to run from my rent and from my memories anymore. This is an opportunity.

"Thank you so, so much. You have no idea how much this means to me..." I realize that might have given away a bit too much, most people aren't thanking you up and down for a job. "It's just, uh, difficult economy right now. I just finished college and it's a relief  to know I will be able to finish paying off my loans. Thank you, Ms. Mailly." Better. Nice save, Scarlett.

"Well, it's a relief to know we will have your full effort in this job. See you tomorrow at--" She pauses, I assume to check the calendar. "--around two should be good. I'm assuming you know this because you seem like an intelligent person, but we deal with some problem patients, as well as some very troubled people. I hope you're comfortable with this."

I refrain from saying that, from what I've been through, I could probably go there for sessions, so I'm comfortable with fucked-up people. "Oh, part of the reason why I applied for this job is the knowledge I'd get to help people." And to distract myself from my inner problems.

She hangs up with a goodbye, and I sink down against the wall, pulling my knees up to my face, and I start to cry. Not sad tears, but happy tears. I've only cried because I was happy one other time in my life, it was when I woke up in the hospital and realized that I wasn't actually dead.

Strange, how once the only thing I wanted turned out to be the last thing I wanted in the world.

*LUKE*

I hurried out of the door of my house as my friend Ashton pulled up in his car and opened the passenger door for me. I slipped in just as my mother came storming out the door. As we pulled away, I saw anger flick across her face and battle with sympathy, but anger won over.

Granted, the majority of the time I didn't blame her. I was the one problem in the way of her having an actual life. I was the baggage. Ever since I was born, I had been sad. A quiet child. A quiet teenager. Sad and empty, and nothing my parents did helped. I suppose I was the reason  that my parents broke up, was the reason my mom got drunk all the time.

"Luke, man, you gotta stop blaming yourself. This isn't all your fault." My friend, Ashton, was probably the only source of sanity in my life. I don't know why he hangs out me, I'm too fucked up while he is a popular, well-liked person at school. Still, he's been here through the many stages--self-harm, drunk, sad, pissed, destructive, everything. For that, I was grateful, as grateful as I could be. I was an ass, and Ashton was far from it, so I don't know why we're friends, but we are.

As Ashton's piece of shit car pulls up to the shrink's office, I can feel the unease in the pit of my stomach growing. I didn't sign up for this, didn't ask to be depressed and messed up. So why was I being forced to go to these stupid sessions like I was some sort of maniac? I wasn't planning on trying to kill myself or anything. I stepped out of the car, leaving Ashton: he couldn't come anyways and I didn't want to deal with the pity in his eyes.

The office was the epitome of a psych ward in a hospital. White walls glared down at me with disgustingly happy posters pasted to them. One of them read:

FEELING SAD? TELL SOMEONE HOW YOU FEEL!

I couldn't help but chuckle at the irony and stupidity of the posters.

"Kind of stupid, isn't it? If it was that easy, this office wouldn't exist." I heard a wry voice sound beside me, and I turned around to see a tall, thin girl who looked about my age, perhaps a year or two older, standing behind me. I chuckled, a dark sound leaving my mouth that didn't have an ounce of mirth in it.

"My thoughts exactly. The posters don't have to work, they're just supposed to brighten up this fucking prison with something other than blood." I assumed my dark sense of humor would scare her off, but she laughed, a tinkling sound before she covered her mouth quickly.

Her sleeve fell down, revealing vertical lines of scars across her wrist. So she belonged here too, like the rest of us. She must have felt my eyes on her wrist, because she stopped laughing and leaned forwards.

"Shh. Nobody here can know, or I won't be allowed to come back." Her grey eyes looked earnestly up at me, forcing me to nod, but I grimaced inwardly. She had to be crazy. If she was a patient here, they obviously knew she cut herself, so she must have lost it.

Just then, a stern, stiff woman came up and motioned towards the girl; I assumed she had gotten out of the psych ward or something. "Dr. Johansenn, if you'd like to continue the tour now, then you can sit in on a session."

It all clicked into place. She was here because she worked here, they couldn't know because then she would probably be a harm to other patients or something, she had only talked to me because I was a patient.