Remember to Forget

Chapter 6

Luke's POV

It's been 7 days since I've been here. One whole week.

189 days without her.

There will be more days to come. More endless weeks stuck here.

I haven't been back to the park since I last went. I don't plan on going back anytime soon, or ever for that matter. My goal is to avoid everyone, especially Delilah. After the incident at the park, I haven't seen her. But, I also haven't left the house in three days.

Technically, I've barely left my room aside from the occasional food and bathroom breaks.

“Luke,” my dad says, knocking on my door. “You need to get out of the house. It's been three days.”

Wow, you state the obvious. You're so cool Dad.

If I wanted to leave the house, I would. But I don't, so I won't.

He knocks again, a little louder this time.

Does he think I'm deaf too? Just because I refuse to talk doesn't mean I refuse to hear. I wish sometimes I could block everything out though. We have eyelids to shut our eyes, why can't we have earlids too? That'd sure help me a lot. I wouldn't have to listen to anyone.

Finally, he barges into my room. I should've locked the door. I should've escaped and jumped out the window. I look at my open window and debate whether or not I should just jump now. There's still time.

“We're going out,” he tells me.

Too late to jump. I should've gone when I had a chance.

He has his arms folded across his chest as he looks down at me. I stay sitting on my bed, refusing to move. I tap my feet on my carpet, the plushness feeling good beneath my feet.

“Luke, we are going out,” he repeats. “Be ready in 20 minutes.”

My dad walks out of my room, but I don't get up to get ready. I don't want to.

After sitting in the same position for a few minutes, I hear my dad talking to someone. I slowly walk out of my room and down the hall. His bedroom door is shut almost all the way, there's a small space that I can see him perfectly through. He's on the phone with someone, and his head is in his hands.

“Yes, Liz, I know... Liz...” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

Why is he talking to Mom?

“How did our son get to be like this?” I swear I just heard his voice crack. Is he crying?

I walk closer, careful not to make any noise. I need to hear what he's talking about.

“Luke used to be so happy. He used to smile. What happened to him?” There's a pause before he talks again. “It's been a rough week for both of us. Luke rarely leaves his room, and when he does, he leaves the house. He barely looks at me. Half the time he glares at me or slams doors in my face. I don't even feel like a father.”

Does he really feel that way?

“Yes, Liz, I'm aware that he's testing me. It's like this is all a big game to him. This is serious... What do you mean?... Our son has depression!...”

I wonder what my mom is saying. There's long pauses between every sentence my dad says.

Does he really think I'm testing him? I'm not testing him, that's for sure. I just genuinely hate him and this place. I hate everything and everyone, I can't help it. I can't help it that I'm depressed. I can't help that I have mood swings. I physically can't make myself do things I don't want to do, and I mentally can't handle anything. All I want to do is be alone because I constantly feel like everything is falling apart. I wish people could see that. I wish that they would just leave me alone.