Scarred| luke hemmings

✄ three ✄

☠ Agatha ☠

It probably wasn't the best idea, having Luke come round my house, but he had to meet my parents. He had to see how wrong they were about me, and how delusional they were towards the subject. Every attempt of approaching the topic, they just changed what we were talking about, or just ignore me. Quite possibly, and most unlikely, he could change their minds, making them think I am, in fact, sane. The thing was, my parents thought I had a craving for death (mentally and physically) and refused to hear my explanation of how I was actually craving relief. Cutting wasn't a way of killing myself, it was my way of getting rid of any stress I had, that's what I thought anyway. Nobody understood me, no matter how hard they tried too, it was impossible for anyone to understand my pain. Yes, they could be amazing listeners and give good advice, but if they hadn't gone through it themselves, then what was the point in listening to them? They wouldn't have a clue about how much I was hurting at that very moment.

"Are you going to knock, or shall I?" He asked, looking at me concerned. I looked to my hand, realising I'd stood for a good 5 minutes with my hand hovering near the door. I shook my head slightly, and knocked the door. My mum answered, staring at Luke. She seemed, somewhat, surprised that I had someone at my side. Surprised that someone actually wanted to socialise with me, most likely. "Hi, I'm Luke," he held out his hand for my mum to shake, but she just walked into the kitchen (rolling her eyes as she did so) as the two of us wandered inside. We took off our shoes, following my mum into the kitchen, where she was whispering something to my dad.

"Had to be a boy, didn't it, Aggy?" My dad joked, he stood up from the dining chair, strolling over towards us. He scanned Luke, judging his attire, quite clearly. "So, what interested you in my daughter, Luke," he trailed, waiting for a surname.

"Hemmings, sir," Luke seemed nervous. "Luke Hemmings, sir," my dad nodded, before laughing and looking at me.

"He's a nice one, Aggy," I groaned, annoyed at how both of my parents automatically assumed he was my boyfriend. I was a girl, and he was a boy, we were friends, opposite sexes can just be friends. "Luke, are you staying for dinner?"

"No," I blurted, getting a reassuring look from Luke. He waved his hand at me subtly, before nodding towards my parents. "What are you doing?" I whispered.

"I shall be staying for dinner, if that's alright with you, Mr and Mrs Mason," all they did was smile, before we disappeared upstairs to my room. "I'm sorry," he laughed when we walked into my room. He'd jumped onto my bed, creasing my duvet, and knocking my pillows over. "I just want to get to know them, you said yourself that I needed to meet your parents," I rolled my eyes, very much aware of what I'd said. I was now regretting it. "So, where do you want to start?"

"Can you ask me questions?" I asked. "I don't do well with story telling or shit, I always go too far in with my explanations," he chuckled quietly.

"Sure thing," he smiled. I sat cross legged on my carpeted floor, looking up at Luke, he was laid out on my bed (on his side) with his hand supporting his head. "Why do you do it? The suicide things," I breathed deeply.

"Stress," I said simply. "I find it as a way to relieve my stress, pain and upset. It's hard to explain as such, but, I guess you'd have to have gone through it yourself to understand," I shrugged.

"I understand," he muttered. "I get it," at that point, he pulled at his sleeves, covering his palms.

"Luke," it was like more of a therapy session for the both of us. "Are you okay?" He then moved slowly to sit opposite me, on the floor, cross legged too. He took my hands in his, before pushing my sleeves up my arm. He did the same with his sleeves, surprising me greatly. "You-"