and then we weren't (luke hemmings)

July 16th, 2018

warning; mentions of suicide

Lena

My dad used to tell me this story when I was younger, right before he tucked me into my small bed and shut the lights off. It went something like this;

"There once was a flock of black swans who would gather together in the neighboring creek at noon every day, without fail. Now, at the same exact time, on the same exact days, three sailors would share a boat and go to this creek to catch catfish. The sailors would watch the swans float across the mossy water, in awe of their inky color. After they had caught their fish and returned home, the sailors would tell their families all about these exotic birds that could only be found at this creek. The wives of the first and second sailor were shocked by these descriptions, and deemed it impossible for a swan to be black. The third wife, however, knew better. She knew that even if there were a thousand white swans, that didn't mean that black ones didn't exist. All it took was one black swan to prove them wrong." 

I'd lay there with half-shut eyes, fighting the sleepiness that was overtaking me just to hear the rest of his seemingly everlasting story. 

"What's that have to do with Lukey, Papa?"  I asked him, referring to the little boy next door who's mother had passed away. He was only thirteen at the time, a year and a half older than me, and yet he was still incredibly harsh towards my attempts at developing a friendship with him.

"Well, Luke has lost someone very important to him, sweetie. He doesn't think there's any good out there anymore, because everything seems bad to him right now. But all it takes is one good thing,"  He paused, then, taking his right index finger and tapping it gently against my nose."to prove that it's not all bad. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, Papa." 

I didn't understand, but I had pretended to, for I was a naive twelve-year-old little girl who thought she had the world figured out. 

I couldn't have been more wrong.

 But none of that matters anymore, because sitting here now, with the same boy that I had loved unconditionally in a desperate attempt to prove to him that he was worth so much was laying lifeless on the tile of his bathroom floor. Two bottles of bourbon on the rim of his bathtub and white tablets spilled across the floor.

He was there, and then he wasn't.

We were, and then we weren't.

And it was all my fault.

a/n: hellooooo

buckle up u guys it's gonna be a tough one

if you've read this story before, or at least the beginning because i haven't finished it, i am rewriting it!!! the reason being i was not happy where my other story was going and it was not a very developable plot. so yep

enjoy your day xx