Remember to Forget

Chapter 20

Luke's POV

It's been 241 days.

It's been almost four weeks since I last saw anyone but my dad or Candace. I haven't gone anywhere or done anything remotely interesting.

Ashton hasn't stopped by since I told him about it. I don't think he really knew how to handle it since he's, well, he's Ashton. He likes being happy and being around people. I think he thought I would warm up to him. And I was starting to, which is something I didn't want.

When I told him, he seemed heartbroken. He read the letter and stayed quiet for awhile afterwards. He left like the first day I met him, sad and quiet. The total opposite of how he usually is. He said bye, and I haven't seen him since.

I've avoided Delilah as best I can. I see her in the neighborhood or at therapy sometimes. She's given up on saying hi or smiling, or even communicating at all. It's like she doesn't know who I am.

But I guess that's my own fault. I told her to forget me.

I've gone back to my old ways. I stay alone, mostly in my room. I don't do much. I've gone back to that numb feeling. I feel anxious and dull and tired. I feel like nothing at all.

There's no more skittles in my pill container.

I haven't written in this notebook for a long time, but today it was needed. I just need someone, I guess, and this is the closest I have. I guess I'm just writing about everything that's happened the past month because I've been holding it all in. I need to let it all out, and here's the place to do that.

Delilah left me a letter awhile ago. It's her finished project. She wrote on the envelope she thought I might like to read it. I can't bring myself into reading it though. I don't want to see what she has to say about me. I've contemplated everyday whether or not to open it, but I can't get the courage to tear open the envelope. I'm too nervous about what's inside.

Most days I try to remember, but not think too much, about Delia. I find that my memories of her are slowly fading away. I don't remember them quite as vividly as I used to, and that scares me. My flashbacks still come, but parts are missing. Some of them are getting jumbled with newer memories, and I can't tell what happened when. I hate it.

I think my dad is more worried about me than he used to be. He sighs more often, and he looks tired. I feel like I'm wearing him out, just like I did to my mom. I wear everyone out. Even myself.The whole reason I started writing today is because of tomorrow. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I didn't even know what that was until a few hours ago. I guess Americans eat food to celebrate some settling on some rock. I don't get what Turkey has to do with that, but whatever.

The problem is, we're going over Delilah's. Apparently my dad has celebrated with them since he moved here. He told me this morning. I didn't handle it very well. I may or may not have punched the wall.

My hand my or may not be bruised and hurting right now.

I'm debating not even going. It'll be extremely awkward for everyone, not just Delilah and me. And I don't want to be surrounded by a bunch of people that I don't know. That's way too many people to be confused as to why I don't talk, and why I'm me.

I'm really nervous. What if Delilah hates me? I know she does, why wouldn't she? How am I supposed to celebrate some weird holiday with strangers and someone I told I never wanted to see again? I can already feel my anxiety coming.

I can't go. I won't go. I'll say I'm sick. This is so stressful, I hate this. Why did I ever have to move here in the first place? I wouldn't have-

Suddenly, something falls off my bedside table and onto my lap.

It's Delilah's project.

I put it inside my drawer and leave my room.

My dad is eating dinner without me, which is what usually happens. I'm usually not hungry or I just have cereal. I don't really like eating with my dad anyways, it's extremely awkward because all I hear is our chewing.

But today, I sit across from him. He looks up at me and smiles.

"What's up, bud?" he says with his mouth full. He still calls me bud even though I'm 17 and wish he'd stop.

I shrug.

"Somethings wrong, I can tell," he says, putting his fork down.

I type quickly in my phone. "I don't feel well. I think I'm sick. I can't go tomorrow."

He cocks his head to the side and squints at me. "You look okay... You sure you just don't want to go?"

I nod and hold my stomach as if I'm queasy.

"I know about you and Delilah and Ashton. And I know you're not sick. You think I don't know why you punched the wall this morning? I wasn't born yesterday."

Of course he knows. How'd he even find out?

"You're going to go tomorrow. It'll be good for you. You need to get out of the house. You've been in here for months. You barely do anything, it's not healthy."

I glare at him and leave the table. I shove my chair in as I leave, causing it to crash into the table.

"Luke!" my dad yells.

I continue walking until I'm back in my room, and I slam the door shut, causing some things in my room to shake.

I plop down on my bed and look up at the ceiling.

I wish I could just disappear right now. No one would notice, or even care. I wouldn't have to celebrate some stupid American holiday with stupid American people that I don't know. I wouldn't be having anxiety over all of this if I could disappear.

I could disappear, just like that.

so basically almost a month has passed and luke has done nothing and i'm trying to get to the reallllll exciting parts of the story

what do you think will happen?

TOMORROW IS MY BIRTHDAY (SEPTEMBER 6) it'd mean the WORLD to me if you could tweet luke and tell him to follow me @singsongash on twitter. use the #lukefollowashley and tag me in any tweets you send. I'll follow some of you! it's literally my life wish to have luke follow me bc i love him so much

(maybe even tweet him my youtube which is callmeashley98)

ilysm sorry this was kinda short it's late ilysm

-ashley