Both of their eyes are closed

Part 25

Haha, part 25. Ironic cos it is the 25th...which just happens to be my birthday! And I can't think of any better birthday present than 3k reads. I know the it seems like a really small number but honestly every single read means the world to me. Even if this story some how had a million (yeah right) I would still appreciate every single one of you.

So it thought I'd make this special chapter as a birthday gift from me to you :)

Love you guys!!! <3<3<3

Luke's P.O.V.

I used to feel bad for people who are insane, stuffed into horrifying asylums and mental hospitals full of people who do nothing but judge them. They get to do nothing but sit there and let their mind eat them from the inside out. They have to sit there in a small room hearing voices but not being able to respond because they know that no one will listen, seeing nothing outside their walls.

I now not only pity them, but I can empathize with them. I have been entirely awake for about two months. I could feel it all, the painful bruises and cuts and broken bones, but I could not scream out in pain. I could not open my eyes and for the longest time I could not even breath on my own. You never know what it is like to feel helpless until you can every control you own body.

I try for hours every single day to move. Just one little twitch of a single muscle. Even though I can breath, and my heat is beating, it's not enough to be satisfied with yourself. This sort of thing is used to punish people. Putting them off in solitary confinement with no one to speak with, but at least then you can stand if you choose, speak if you choose, cry if you choose.

Hearing Hope's voice pushes me along. Her voice motivates me to will myself to wake up every single day. Feeling her touch sends a burning warmth through my body that lasts for hours, but not forever. She usually comes to see me every single day, but for some reason in the last three weeks or so, she has been in less frequently. I sometimes feel like she is giving up on me. Like she is accepting my death. And in one hand that motivates me even more to wake up, to prove her wrong, but in the other, it discourages me. Once she gives up on me, I will give up on myself, I will no longer try to wake up, I will grow empty, and wait for death to come take me away from this awful place.

I don't want to die though. I am terrified of death. I am terrified of leaving this world without her. Wherever you go after you close you eyes for good, no matter how heavenly it may be, will be dark without her, because she is my light. She is my pure happiness. She is the reason I smile every day. She is the reason I am even here today. She saved me from my own demons.

Before I met Hope, I was always carrying this awful dark cloud around with me. I would never talk to anyone, I was dark and depressed and always at war with myself.

The day I met Hope, was the day I was going to kill myself.

When she sat down at my table, my first thought was that she was just another one of the rude people who would mess with me on a dare, try to get me to talk to win a bet. But she didn't even speak. She ate, and I could feel her eyes on me the whole time. I could feel her smile lightly at me even when I wasn't looking back at her. There was something different about her. I don't remember ever seeing her hanging out with people considered "popular," in fact, I only every saw her with the same three people, who weren't entirely popular material themselves. In fact, all of them seemed like me. They all were darker and quieter and didn't seem to really acknowledge the people around them.

I went home that day, so intrigued by the beautiful girl, that I forgot entirely about my plan to end my life.

She kept sitting with me, not speaking, just smiling, and with every day, I grew more and more curious about her and wanted to talk to her. But I wasn't about to go and end my years of silence, so I gave her a note, and from there, my dark cloud began to go away.

I remember her catching me singing in the auditorium after school. I was angry, I knew I had lost my silent reputation, but after she had left, blushing adorably, I couldn't suppress my smile. I realised that I was actually relieved that she had heard me, that way I could actually start talking to her.

Hope gave me...well, hope. There is no more perfect name that she could have been given. I didn't think, and still don't, that someone as broken as I was could have possibly deserved her.

To this day I still swear that she is a fallen angel. The way her entirety is flawless never fails to put send me into a speechless awe. The way she smiles makes my heart skip a beat every time. When she laughs its like everything else freezes and nothing else exists but the sound of her beautiful pure laughter. There always seems to be a sparkle in her eyes. The sun always shines through her beautiful hair, making it shine like a thread of silk.

She carries this glow about her that shines brighter than everyone that surrounds her. She is the most magnificent creature I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Sometimes, while she's distracted by the television or sleeping, I like to just look at her. Just watch her sit there and be absolutely perfect without even trying.

I often wonder. why this beautiful angel was sent to me, though I try not to question it too much in fear that if I do, she will be taken away from me. But note I'm the one that was taken away from her. The world truly does work in a rather cruel way doesn't it? You send an angel down to someone, they fall in love, then you take that someone away from the angel? Even still I would much rather it be me than her. She still has a life to live. The boys will help her cope, she will get along without me.

But me, well, without my Angel I will be nothing. There are millions upon millions of people out there that know who I am, that support me. I would never truly be alone, but I would forever be lonely. Without hope, that dark cloud that followed me around not long ago will surely return, and who knows how long I would last after that.

I wouldn't.

I feel a hot tear run down my cheek.

What?

This is the first tear I have managed to cry since I have woken up, and I have wanted to cry so many. I was able to shed a tear today! It's progress! I have finally managed to make actually progress! The single tear was all I needed. It was hope. It was hope, given to me by thinking about Hope. I wish I could laugh. I would laugh for hours of the joy of being able to shed a tear.

At that, I try again. I try and try and try for hours and hours. I tell every muscle I can think of to move. My eyes. my lips, my throat, my neck. I try everything from my head to my toes and back up again.

And suddenly, with a deep inhale of the pristine smelling air, I manage to open my tear filled eyes and cry, and cry.