aggression | luke hemmings

Chapter Seventy Three

Luke's POV

Today is the day. November the first. The day I get to take the flight home and see my baby girl. I've been emotional all morning, and boarding the plane right now makes me weak in the knees out of thrill and excitement.

"Relax, Luke," Danny and Heather kept reminding me. There was no way in hell I was going to relax. Now, that I am seated in the plush airplane seat with my luggage in the compartment and Heather sitting next to me, and my blink-182 music playing softly, I can finally calm down and smile out at the airport below us.

It all happened so fast. I was jumping for joy at the rental home I lived in for a month after receiving the news that I was going to leave today. Then I was packing up and waving goodbye to Melody and Rory, who I learnt are a long term couple. Then I was magically in the airport. And then I was pushed into this familiar seat as I listen to music. I just hope the flight will go as fast as the previous events had.

"Flight attendants, prepare for departure," A deep male's voice speaks through the intercom and we are off.

"What're you going to do when you get back?" Heather asks, Danny fell asleep within the first second we were in the air.

"Its going to be like, midnight, there's not much I can do," I sigh.

"Midnight?"

"Have you forgotten we're in different time zones?" I ask as if it were obvious.

"Oh-- yeah," Heather laughs at her stupidity. "What about in the morn?"

"You probably don't wanna know what I want to do in the morning," I snicker, earning a scoff from her and a playful shove in the arm.

"You're such a pervert, Luke!" She exclaims.

"You like it," I add in monotone. Heather's brows raise.

"You're more of a flirt than I thought, eh?" Heather smirks. I jokingly roll my eyes and laugh with my manager.

In the next half hour I drift to sleep and dream about Becca.

***

I rapped on the door a few times, and waited for my beautiful wife to open it and scream and leap into my arms. I was nervously biting my lip as I heard footsteps approaching from inside the apartment.

Soon, a short, sobbing woman opened the door and gawked up into my eyes. Her blue eyes were darker than mine, and her chocolate brown hair was matted and tangled. Her Paramore t-shirt was torn in the collar and a gash was on her wrist. Two gashes. Three. Four. So on.

Wait-- Was this...Becca? Was this what I've done to her? How did she transform from a beautiful lady to a beautiful tragedy in just a lone month?

The girl stumbled to the side, and winced even though she didn't touch anything and I didn't move an inch. "Bec...?" I whisper.

God dammit, look at what I've created. I shouldn't have left her for stupid California. I shouldn't have let her turn into this depressed monster. I should've stayed at her side and helped her through this maze of love/hate...But I didn't. And look what happened.

What I expected was to find a girl with perfect posture and no teary eyes and no new scars and a euphoric expression on her face. But no. It's the opposite. It's sad, beautiful, tragic.

She smiled weakly at me and stepped outside with the door closed behind her. "Hey," She said. No, this wasn't the Becca I married. I can tell because she only ever said "hi". No "hey" was involved in her casual greetings. "Look, Luke. I know you're surprised. But...I'm okay. I've been torn for the whole elapse. Until I found my escape; Just an hour ago when he finally asked me out. He's up in my room. I'm sorry, Luke. But you have to go."