Where The Lines Overlap

Chapter 5.

I tossed and turned in my bed that night, my body tangled in the sheets. The thought of Luke never left my mind and I couldn't decide whether it was good or bad.

He left in such a rush, at the time it didn't seem like that big of a deal but now as I lay here in my bed at god knows what hour of the night, I don't know what to make of it. Who am I kidding? Guys like Luke only care about two things. Getting high, off of whatever they can, and a good lay. I was foolish enough to make myself believe that he was somewhat different from the previous assholes I've been with but it seems like I just attract them.

Although I've done my best to convince myself that Luke isn't what I need right now, a nagging voice in my head is telling me to give him another chance, that he'll turn out different. It didn't bother me that Luke smoked weed, I've done things that weren't necessarily good for me, things that I'm ashamed of, what bothered me was the fact that I couldn't understand Luke.

I try not to put up walls, be completely, brutally honest. Which had worked for me, but with Luke I can't figure out if he's a mystery or just simple, I want to believe that he's open but I can't help but feel like there's something else, something I might not want to know.

When my alarm goes off, it almost feels like agony to get out of bed.

But somehow I find the strength to push myself upright and move my feet from the end of the bed to the carpet.

•Luke's POV•

The drive from my building to the hospital felt like the longest ride of my life. I'd given what little money I'd been paid to the cab driver and demanded he take me to the address Ms.Caster had given me over the phone.

My hands stayed as balled up fists, clutching onto the end of my shirt. My feet tapped on the floor of the car, wishing time would go faster. I chewed on my bottom lip to keep from yelling at the driver to speed up. I was never good with situations like this, I was a mess to be completely honest. I was nervous, my hands clammy, I was terrified but angry at the same time, angry at myself for not being there when it happened, angry at the people taking care of her. In the end I put all the blame on myself and the guilt was beginning to feel like a ball and chain on my ankle, constantly dragging it around. I would get stoned just to feel some type of release, to feel anything other than regret.

The car pulled up to the curb and I got out, not wasting anytime in saying thank you. The air was cooler at this time of night, I breathed in, holding it like I would when I was smoking. I slammed the door shut and raced in through the front doors of the hospital. I went straight to the front desk, demanding to know what room they'd placed her in. I breathed heavily as the nurse gave me the room number and the floor.

After walking down the hallway, reading the numbers by each of the doors, I found the right one. I didn't hesitate to open the door, seeing her lie in the bed, wearing the all too familiar hospital gown. The doctor standing over her, looking from her and the monitor beside the bed.

"She's been asking for you."

He spoke, not meeting my eyes as he said these words.

I didn't respond, instead I walked over to the her taking her cold hand in my own. Her small hand was engulfed by my larger one, I looked down at the tubes attached to her arms and the IV that stood next to me. There were small nubs in her nose, feeding her oxygen that she wasn't strong enough to produce herself. She hated for me to her like this.

"She should be up soon, she's been out for a while now."

The doctor informed me but I wasn't entirely paying attention, all I cared about at the moment was Charlotte and whether or not she would be okay.