Forbidden (Punk Luke Hemmings)

thirty nine

“How have you been, son? Don’t just say good either… God, I remember every day when you’d come home from school as a kid, and both your mother and I would ask how your day was. ‘Good’, was your only response, ever. Do you remember that, Liz? We used to try for hours to get another word out of you, but it never came! Those were the days!” dad chuckled.

The smile continued to spread on my face as dad recalled days from when we were younger. I remember those days so clearly. I was so innocent, so pure.

There was nothing to worry about other than what was for dinner, and what the footy score was. God, those were the days alright. Everything was so simple back then, and of course — a part of me is always going to wish things could be the way they once were. But you know what? Fuck that shit.

If things had stayed the way they were, in all honesty I don’t think I ever would’ve met Daniella. Well actually, I probably would’ve — but it wouldn’t have happened the way it did. We wouldn’t be the way we are. I would’ve been to shy to even make a move on her and some other asshole would’ve swept her off her feet before I got the chance to even make eye contact with her. The only thing about my cocky attitude I had back then that I can say I was thankful for, was that I got myself a date with her. 

I can’t believe that in a few hours, I’ll be with her. It’s hard to believe. After 94 fucking days, I was finally going to see my baby girl.

I wonder how she’s doing. I wonder if she’s smiling right now. Has she been thinking of me as much as I’ve been thinking of her? Has she been up in the early hours of the morning with my face permanently etched into her brain? Has she been re thinking her decision to break up with me? Did she still love me?

For the entire duration of these 3 months and 2 days, that was the main thing bothering me. 3 months is an awfully long fucking time. I mean when you think of it, we hadn’t even been dating for 3 months. She easily could’ve gotten over me and moved on. God, thinking about her in anyone’s arms but mine caused such an awful fucking pain in my chest.

I hated thinking about it but it was hard not to. God, I love her so much. And when I finally return, she’s never going to forget it. I’m going to show her I’m sorry. Knowing her, if she does still love me — she’ll jump right back into my arms without hesitation and she’ll never mention a thing about the drugs again. But how on earth is that fucking fair? It’s not. 

I’m going to show her I’m sorry. I’m going to prove myself to her. She’s not ALLOWED to forgive me yet, because hell, I can’t even forgive myself for going down that path again. I could’ve fucking died. I should’ve considered the consequences before I touched the fucking shit, but obviously, it’s a little too late for that. 

I’m going to sing her the songs. Her songs. Only then, will I allow her to utter the words “I forgive you.” 

Jesus, why the hell am I even thinking like this? For all I know, she’s probably got a new boy. She’s probably cuddling up to him on the couch and watching a movie right now. She’s probably laughing too fucking hard at a scene that isn’t even funny, and he’s probably watching her and laughing along because that beautiful smile is so fucking contagious it isn’t even funny. 

I fell in love, she fell in love, and it meant everything to me. All I ever asked of her was to stay, and I didn’t even need to use my words to get the message across. She understood me somehow. 

There would be sometimes where I was going out of my fucking mind and all she had to do was be in the same room as me and everything would be alright. As long as she was with me, I knew that I’d be okay.