The Game Show Affect [†] Luke Hemmings

~26~

Blakleys Point of view

Today was the day. The day my dad gets home, while I'm not there. I guess its good for Kian and him to have a little guy time, but its still heartbreaking. Earlier Luke had popped into my room and told me he had some running around to do, and that our time together wouldn't be until six o'clock.

I decided today wouldn't be too sad. I needed to get over myself. Really I should be proud that my dad survived another six months across seas. Today I was going to grow up, and do what I did when I got there.

I put on a pair of funky leggings, a sweatshirt, grabbed my drawing supplies and made my way to the living room.

"AMERICAN HORROR STORY, PATIO, MIKEY, ASH, CAL, DELTA, JESSA, NOW!" I screamed, waltzing outside. Moments later I heard dozens of feet padding across the grass. I put my hands on my hips, ignoring their rather proud faces.

"Do we really have to do it at nine o'clock?" Michael whined.

"Sucks to be you, bitch." I shrugged, falling onto the couch. "Now sit."

Ashton laughed, being the first to sit beside me, "Luke would be so happy."

"Well good, because that's kinda who I'm doing this for." I whispered.

Ashton chuckled, wrapping an arm around me, "What a great girlfriend you are."

***

It was so sudden. Like, one second I was sitting there watching American Horror Story, and the next... I was placed in my own horror story.

I was dressed in a white dress, it was long and flowy, flapping in the wind. My hair was longer than it actually was and tied into a thick braid that reached just below my chest. I looked like the type of girl who I liked to draw, placed in the scariest place that comes to mind.

Everywhere there was buildings, fallen to rubble. Dirt, tank tracks and even a fallen troop. Looking up from that limp and lifeless body, my eyes landed on my father.

He stood smiling with erect posture, although he was dirty and drenched in sweat. He had a gun slung across his back, opening his arms as he ran towards me.

But, as we were only a step away from each other, that dreadful band echoed. His eyes went wide as blood poured  from his chest. I screamed out, falling to the ground, cradling his limp body in my arms.

I was screaming uncontrollably, brushing his hair back.

"Daddy! No! You're not dead! Dadd--"

"Blake! Blakeley, love." My eyes shot open to see all my friends of this house hovering over me. "Are you okay?"

"He died..." I whispered, "In my arms... He died." I wasn't crying, although tears rolled down my cheeks, I was shell shocked.

"Blake, he's not dead." Ashton assured me.

"How can you be so sure?" I shouted, pushing through them.

"Because..." He paused, "but I can't tell you."

"Whatever." I muttered, attempting to head to my room, before Michael stopped me.

"He called your phone, and we answered it. He wanted to tell you he was about to board the plane- but you were to peaceful to wake up." He sputtered, earning a dirty look from Calum.

"Really?" I smiled.

He nodded, "Now let's get you ready for tonight."