AFFLICTION- LRH

Tell Me Everything You Know.

Maeves POV:

The cool night air brushed past my cheeks as I stepped out of the restaurant. The parking lot was nearly empty, except for the familiar old black chevy that I thought would have been gone by now.

Luke emerged from the drivers side, jaw set and eyes burning from the unresolved anger from our once heated exchange.

Yet, their was still a plea in his gaze, a silent demand to know more.

"I am shocked your still here." I say, stepping off the sidewalk and onto the dark black pavement.

"I can't leave. Not when there is more I need to know." Luke responds, his voice rough around the edges, "I need you to tell me about it, Maeve. Tell me everything you know."

The car ride home was almost enough to make me cringe. I told him everything, gave every detail about our entire existence together.

The kidnapping.

The irrational behavior.

The love we once shared.

I stood in the doorway of our room, watching Luke rummage through his black leather bag in a fit of anger.

"I know this doesn't make sense to you," I sigh, leaning my head against the wooden frame of the door, "but I wish you would just believe me."

Luke doesn't say anything, throwing his belongings along the floor and bed as he searched for something.

For what?

I wasn't sure.

My eyes catch a leather back book flying to the floor, then the small familiar white box he once shared so many details about to me. They go unnoticed by him during his fits of rage.

Holding my breath, I walk closer to him, stepping on the book before shuffling it under the bed.

He wrote everything down, he kept his words to himself.

Maybe there could be something in there to help me out.

"I will be back," he growled, stepping past me as he heads out the door, "do not go anywhere."

"No where I could really go." I spit back.

His eyes darken, but he leaves without another word. I make sure to listen to the sound of his footsteps descending down the stairs, before the front door slams shut behind him.

The second he is out, I pick up the white box from the floor.

A once memorable item to him, thrown on the ground without a care in the world.

Dusting it off, I set the box on the dresser, staring deeply within its details. The wooden carving was knifed neatly with flowers and rose buds, the design done by someone who cared so much for it.

"I'm trying my best here, Arabella." I whispered to it, "I really am. Please help me help him."

I know the box couldn't speak, but a small sense of comfort washed over me the second the words slipped my lips. I knew she was around, but I know there was only so much she could do.

Then, without another thought.

I reach down for the journal.

Lukes POV:

Stumbling through the darkness, the familair taste of whiskey lingers in my breath.

My mind a whirlwind of fragmented memories and burning questions.