Scarred| luke hemmings

✄ Seven ✄

☠ Agatha ☠

I'd noticed recently how dependant I'd become on Luke. He was always there to make me smile, and when he wasn't I felt as if I had nothing to smile about. I needed him a lot more than he thought I did, but I also needed him more than he needed me. We were sat on the floor, with Luke's friend, Michael, that I'd met only a day (or two) ago. We started off playing Pokémon, with Michael teaching me the rules, but ended up talking. . . An incredibly deep conversation. Michael had brought up the topic whilst playing Pokémon, asking what it would be like to be dying. I'd replied with a depressing sounding rant about it. Luke sat silently, listening intently, before adding his own views. Michael left a few hours later, the same time as Luke's mum did, meaning we were the only ones in the house. It was 9:45pm, and there was hardly anything to do that would satisfy our entertainment needs.

"So," he muttered awkwardly. "What do you want to do?" He trailed his words, as he stared around the room. I was looking at him, squinting slightly, deep in thought. Just as I was about to speak, my phone buzzed.

Dad: 'How long will you be at the library for, I need you back now? xx'

"I've got to go," I sighed; Luke groaned. "I'm really sorry, my dad thinks I'm at the library and if he finds out that I lied, I'll be dead," he nodded in response. He showed me to the door, waving to me as I walked down the path until I was out of sight. It wasn't a long walk, and I'd hoped my dad wouldn't notice that the library was in the opposite direction from where I'd walked. I entered the house, kicked off my shoes and joined my parents in the lounge. By parents, I meant my dad and the woman, who was supposedly just a friend. My mum was still with my uncle.

"Honey," my dad spoke up. "Love me or hate me," I turned to face the two of them. "I got you a meeting with the school counsellor," my eyes widened and I'd perked up slightly. I was t happy about this, and my dad knew I wasn't, but he clearly didn't care.

"Are you serious?" I blurted out, staring at him intently.

"It'll be fine, Aggy, he just wants to help you," the woman piped in. I glared at her, and she sunk back into her seat, focusing on the television screen again.

"How can I even trust someone with my problems who, one, I barely know and, two, who's just going to tell you everything at the end?" I asked, my dad just continued to sigh loudly. He thought he was doing a good thing, doing the right thing, when it was the complete opposite: a bad idea, and the wrong decision.

"It's for your own good," my dad said. "Your mum suggested it, we only sign you up to these things because we care," I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I did so.

"To begin with you were telling me to see a psychiatrist, now you want me to see a shitty school counsellor?" I yelled. "He's not even that good, dad, he just rambles on about individuality and his ex-girlfriend, and his sad life about living with his mum," I felt like I was defending my life, at this moment, like I had to convince him that I didn't need it, because if I did have a session then it was my life at stake.

"He only wants to help you, Aggy," my dad rephrased the woman's words from earlier, which made me roll my eyes again.

"He's 20 years old who lives with his mum, younger sister and brother, how could he possibly know how I feel?" I asked rhetorically, not really seeking an answer.

"He doesn't have to know how you feel to be able to help you," he sighed again, rubbing his face roughly with his hands- a sign when he's stressed, which was no surprise, right now.

"Um, last time I checked, yes, yes he does," I spoke sarcastically. "Anyway, I'm perfectly fine with talking to Luke, at least he's gone through what I have and understands me," I defended honestly.