Save Me

Chapter Twenty-Two

A.N. This chapter was pretty good to write for me, and as you can see from the picture, Darby's gonna be in this chapter - so I hope you enjoy reading today!!

♔ Chapter Twenty-Two ♔

The Christmas break had passed by quickly, after the realisation had hit me about Luke. I forced myself to stay in my flat, walled up tight. I didn't want to leave, to go out into the real world again. The idea of walking out the front door was terrifying, and crazy thoughts were flying around my head like hot air balloons and children's kites roaming high in the sky.

I felt like all of my confidence had faded away, abandoned me, left me pathetic and shrivelled into shadowy corners. God, I felt so fucking sick with myself. I felt paranoid, scared of every flickering shadow, and every noise in the flat. I felt like the worst kind of loser, the biggest fool in the world - for not seeing it sooner when it was staring me in the fucking face the entire time.

From the first time I met Luke, and every time after, I should have known something was up. Looking back, there were signs all over the place, double meanings in every word that left his thoughtless mouth, and basic facts that I overlooked out of some morbid fascination to save him.

It was quite funny, when I really sat down and thought about it - it was my own desire to redeem myself, to save myself, that caused me to overlook all the warning signs. Because of that, I'd never felt more ignorant, more alone, more like Tom, like Darby, or even worse, I felt like a helpless little boy all over again. A boy afraid of his own father, in denial over his own thoughts, absorbing his own self-hatred and reflecting it back on everyone else, just to make himself feel better. I recognised all these thoughts, all these feelings, because I'd had them before, growing up. It was nothing new to me.

I spent the rest of the winter holiday trying to convince myself that I was sane, despite seeing things that weren't there. I tried to tell myself that in spite of imagining a gorgeous, fucked up boy out of thin air, I wasn't crazy. Even though I'd let myself become infatuated with him, showcased all of my boyish vulnerabilities to him, let him force himself on me, and what? It was all bullshit? Fake? I wanted to find some way to explain all the memories that I shared with Luke over the last few weeks. They felt too real to be imagined, made up, all in my head. I convinced myself that my imagination couldn't possibly be that delusional, or that creative.

I remembered every touch, every word that escaped his mouth, how in control he had been that whole time, and how powerless and confused I must have looked through his eyes. In a way, I still remembered him fondly, in the beginning. He captivated me so quickly at the start. I remembered how excited I was by just being around him, acting like a lost puppy tuddling behind him. He was a stupid crush that I wished I was strong enough to forget, or smart enough to have seen through his lies.

Briefly, I let my worst feelings eat me up and consume me. I let myself wallow away in my own pity, and when the time came to get over it, I forced myself to do just that - to pull myself together, or to put on a brave face. To smile through the pain, because that is the easiest way for me.

So when my flatmates came back for the second semester of the year, I knew I couldn't stay. I didn't want to be around people, certainly not people my own age. Whether you liked it or not, there was something so inherently ignorant about most young people these days, and students especially. I could hardly stand it before, but I knew that staying would only make me worse, so I made up my mind pretty quickly.

"I want to drop out," I said, trying to sound as normal as I could, but even I knew that trying just sometimes wasn't enough.