𝘿𝙀𝘾𝙀𝙋𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 • 𝙇𝙍𝙃

47. broken

BROKEN

Luke walks down Cornelia Street with an empty beer bottle in hand.

Snow is being crushed beneath his steps, his heart and mind in a similar state.

About every half mile, his gaze falls on a wooden cabin. There aren't many on this street, only six including the one Lila's parents own.

Cornelia Street is a quaint stretch of land with an irresistible glow that pulls you right in. Luke has never given much thought to where he would be in ten years, but he hopes it is someplace like this.

After living his life with a tortured mind and soul, he would like to feel peace.

But right now, he wants to feel nothing at all.

The snow still falls, coating his eyelashes and clothes. It angers him, how the world keeps going even when his has stopped completely.

He drops the glass bottle, growing disappointed with his decision. He couldn't control the situation with Lila, but he could control how much he drank. He needed to feel that surge of power.

His mind wasn't strong enough to process what happened without some sort of crutch.

Luke despises himself for falling victim to the very emotions his father warned him about. He didn't understand at the time. How could feelings that make people so happy be bad?

He gets it now. The high is addictive, he was on top of the world, but the lows make him feel as if he's dug past rock bottom and is trying to claw his way out of the mariana trench.

Why he ever gave a woman the power to fuck him up this bad is beyond him.

The boy wanders aimlessly until he finds himself in front of the cabin. Lila isn't screaming anymore, and the silence is deafening.

He stands in place, not sure if his knees will buckle if he goes inside, perhaps the walls will close in and suffocate him.

Luke liked blood, how it signified death and made stomachs roll at the sight of it. Seeing the blood drain from his victims was like a movie he could watch over and over again.

Now as he stares at the ground, the blood that decorates the snow leaves a vile taste in his mouth, making him feel like he is swallowing razor blades.

His body fizzles with disappointment as Michael clunks down the steps.

"Leave me alone. I don't want to talk right now." His lips were a loose cannon, the things he wants to say but shouldn't are the ammunition.

Michael stretches his arms out in front of him. His muscles were sore and tight. Calum tagged him out after about an hour, and he had no complaints. It was hard being in there, seeing such a sweet girl hurting so much and not being able to do a thing to help her.

"I want to make sure you're okay."

"Your focus is entirely fucked if you're worried about me, not like I took a bullet to the stomach."

The boy exhales as he looks at Luke with a hurt expression. "Can we talk about that? Calum told me what happened –"

"I don't want to know." Luke's knuckles were greedy for blood, and if he were to find out that Michael or one of the others was at fault, he'd bash his fucking face in.

Michael rubs the nape of his neck with a sigh. "She doesn't belong here, Luke."

"Again with this bullshit? She's staying with me. End of fucking discussion."

Luke was slipping from the top, holding on to that pedestal everyone places him on with a single finger.

All because of a girl.