Killer, Killer, Kill Her (A Luke Hemmings Fanfic) {MAJOR EDITING}

Payback Is A Bitch

I don't remember going to sleep. I don't remember my head hitting the pillow but, somehow sleep came. It enveloped me in a peaceful darkness, drowning me in a trance. I opened my eyes to a blinding light. It pierced my retinas, it was so bright. The light fixtures above my head seemed to dance. I tried to sit up and felt bile rise to my throat, an ear-splitting headache had just attacked my neurons. How much did I drink at Michael's party?

Scanning the room, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach turned to full on despair. Where was I? The room had changed drastically. Instead of a single bed, there were two. Four singular bulbs hung above me in the air. The sides of my vision were blurred. There was a beeping sound next to me and the pain in my head was splitting.

I turned my face to the side. Something tugged at my arm, causing me to look down. I followed the tubes up, a foreign liquid in the form of an IV. So that is what's making me so drowsy. With shaking fingers, I ripped the bandage from my arm. Pain shot through me. Slowly, the buzz that I felt disappeared and reality set in. I was screwed and that was the understatement of the year. My head was foggy, making it hard for me to think. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing.

The beeping turned into a flat line. Maybe I really should be dead. It would have made things so much easier for everyone. You know, if I was no longer breathing. But, I was going to die on my own terms. If I could help it.

"Focus, Lukey. Don't want daddy dearest to find you again,"

I cringed. The voices. Those awful, horrid voices. Why couldn't this medicine take them away? Couldn't the doctors just make up some serum that made them leave me alone? Was that even a possibility?

I tried to sit up. "Bad idea, bad idea!" They hissed, making me cringe.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to think. I had to figure out a way to get out of this. I had to figure out what happened. Was I alone?

Memories came flooding back to me. My dad. Joey. A phone call. Michael and drinking. I crinkled my nose and hissed in pain. That bastard had punched me. That bastard had punched me because I kissed Joey. Joey.

Panic set in. Where was she? Was she okay? Of course she's okay. She has to be. I dropped her off at her house. Right?

"Morning sleeping beauty,"

I whipped around and swallowed hard. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. It still shocked me what a spitting image I was of him. I was lankier, skinnier. We were about the same size. That never seemed to stop him from hitting me. He was blurred. I shook my head.

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or should I wait?"

I shook my head. No. No, I did not want to hear what happened. I did not want him to speak. I didn't want him to talk to me. I wanted him to leave me alone. I didn't want anything from him.

I closed my eyes.

"You can't hide from this, Lukey."

His voice sounded so far away. It drifted away from me as if I were moving. It echoed in my ears like the aftershock of a popped balloon. I opened my eyes and my breath hitched. No bright light. No talking. No dad. Instead of walls, there were trees. Instead of a bed, it was a stump. No whispers, only the wind.

I didn't understand. My dad was here. He had been talking to me. There was a needle inside my arm, a splitting headache that made my vision dance. Where was he? Where was the hospital?

My vision adjusted quickly. It was dark. The moon was a pale glow in a blank sky. No stars. My feet were bare and the forest floor was damp against my skin. It was cold. A chill ran down my spine, creating goose bumps across my skin.