Project W

#3 (unfinished)

I felt somebody patting my shoulder and peeled my eyes open.

"Too tired, huh?" Luke grinned his iconic warm smile and I smiled back. He gently combed my wavy auburn hair with his fingers and tugged a lock behind my ears.

"Just a bit busy recently. I have three reports due in a week; it's near the end of the semester." I yawned. Biology and chemistry reports took up most of my time and I hadn't got much sleep for the past two weeks.

"Clary, you've worked too hard. Try not to worn yourself out okay? You don't have to be such a perfectionist!" Luke massaged my shoulders, his tone laced with concern. He had always been so caring and considerate, worrying about my body and health more than I did.

It was all too familiar. The same settings, and therefore the foreseeable result.

I suddenly jumped up and knocked down my chair. Luke flinched a little in the corner of my eyes but I couldn't care less. I grabbed both his hands in mine tightly and refused to let go.

"What's wrong, Clary?" Luke gave a nervous laugh, obviously trying to ease the suddenly built up tension. "Why are you so obsessed with my hands all of a sudden?"

"Luke, please don't leave me. Stay. I need you and you know that. I can't deal with the time you're not with me. I feel so empty inside, and I feel so guilty. I should have begged you to stay but I thought you were really mad at me and I should give you some time to cool down. Please, I've never meant to irritate you and I'm sorry about everything. Everything was my fault. How I wish I could go back to that day……" I rattled nonstop frantically; tears flushed down my cheaks and poured onto the front of my shirt.

"Calm down, Clary. You're freaking me out." Luke frowned, "I'm not going anywhere."

"No, not physically. I mean, spiritually?" I intended to use a minor way to describe the situation, yet Luke stiffened.

"What do you know? How do you know them?" He jerked his hands from mine with such great strength that I lost my balance and stumbled. "Have you been sneaking around? Poking your nose into my business? Damn, Clary, I trusted you! How could you betray my trust?"

"No, I haven't!" I stuttered, "I just… knew…"

Luke snorted, "Just knew? So, you're a prophet or something? I do know you've always been bad at telling lies, but what I don't know is that you're actually this bad."

"Luke, please, I'm not in the joking mood. Please don't go. You know I'll always have your back no matter what happens; you know you can always tell me your feelings and troubles."

"Well, I used to. But not anymore."

With those hurtful words left pricking me, Luke stormed upstairs. I rushed to grab his hands once again, yet he just pushed me away and I fell on my hips.

Despite the sharp pain in my hips, I managed to get up and chased after him; however, I was still a step late when Luke slammed his bedroom door shut and locked it afterwards.

"Please, Luke, open up! I'm sorry, I'm sorry for everything. Please let me explain; I won't lie this time. Gosh, just open this goddamn door!" I banged loudly on the door, every pound louder than the previous one.

Although the door shook, it never opened. With seconds ticking by, I grew more and more anxious, and my deepest fear expanded as I realize I might very likely relive my worst nightmare ever.

The moment I finally knocked down the door somehow, the dreadful sight imprinted in my mind became clear-cut.

I was too late. Again.

Luke's feet hung about two feet above the ground with a rope attached to his neck and the ceiling.

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"Nooooo!" I screamed, suddenly awake.

I found myself panting heavily and shaking uncontrollably, with cold sweat all over. I was currently sitting on the floor and my hips hurt badly; I must fell off my bed when I dreamed of being pushed.

Bang bang bang. I jumped and clapped a hand to my mouth to suppress my rapid breathing. The pounding was similar to that in my nightmare, and the scenes started replaying continuously.

"Clary, are you alright?"

It was Presley.

What could I answer? I'd never wanted to bother others with my complicated little mind and trivialities, but I was just too weak to brace myself up and pretended that I was fine.

"Clary, I'm taking the keys." Presley said sternly.

I quickly climbed back onto my bed and wrapped the blanket tightly around my body with my back pressed against the wall, hoping to minimize the shivers so that she wouldn't notice.

With a light click, Presley unlocked my bedroom door and pushed it open a bit. A ray of light from the hallway shot in, illuminating the previous darkness.

Presley peeked in and spotted me, "There you are." She then walked to my side and sat on my bed; I felt the mattress sank a little under her weight. She embraced me with her arms tightly wrapped around my still shaky body and let me rest my head on her shoulder.

"Another nightmare?" She asked, sofly. Her warm breath tickled my neck, making my eyes water due to some unknown reasons. "Or should I say, the same one?"

I froze.

Four months have passed since Luke's death, yet, I dreamed of the same afternoon every night, and I woke up in horror and stayed up until dawn. Although I tried not to scream and wake the whole family up, sometimes I just couldn't control myself. Not that I didn't want to let go, but the nightmare haunted me repeatedly unless I forced myself to stay awake; yet, I couldn't help but drift into sleep after about four consecutive days, and the horror and screaming would only worsen.

I still hadn't had the faintest idea why Luke committed suicide; though Presley comforted me by saying that he wouldn't just kill himself after a trivial fight with his girlfriend, but I blamed everything on myself, for I was the one quarrelling with him, the one supposed to hear him out, and the one who had had the chance to change his mind. But I failed to.

"Clary," said Presley after a while, dragging me out of my own thoughts, "I don't want to push you, but maybe you'll feel better if you share your feelings and inner thoughts with someone else."

I sniffed and mumbled, "But it won't make things easier."

"At least not worse either." Presley chuckled lowly. "Plus, I bet it will definitely make things easier."