Isolated

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

How? How the fuck? How is he here, how is this possible? Even if I now know why - because he wanted to be closer. To just feel and hope he was close to me. But how could we run into each other so randomly? How could I get it in my head that what just happened happened?!

Am I nuts?

Luke has been looking for me all this time. This whole fucking time. He was looking when I was trying to settle into a new house and life, he was looking when I got myself a job. He was looking when I meet Spencer, and he was still looking... How could he have done that? How could he invest his entire self into looking for me after so long?

How could he do all that for me? How could one man bare the amount of pain he has?

Why didn't I stay longer? I should have. Screw Lynette. I should have; what if he doesn't meet me and he hates me like I think he should? Oh god....

With all these circulating thoughts, not to mention my blurry and wet eyes, it was a little hard to focus on the road ahead of me in the dark. From the moment I got my shaky self in the car after getting my bag from inside and reassuring the few people there that I was alright, I was on my way. But I wasn't calm in the slightest. If anything, that encounter with Luke shook me up more now as I tried letting it all sink in as I drove down road after road, lit by helpful street lights. At this point though, about maybe five minutes into driving, my eyelids spilled over and I was forced to lift a hand from the wheel and wipe them from my eyes, clearing my sight. Don't cry now. If anything, just don't do that. I knew I needed to focus, even if I realized I wouldn't fully be able to with my next thoughts. Because my next thoughts called for more attention even if my own emotions disagreed.

Jackson. The FBI... I knew I needed to shove aside the new shock and the fresh burn of seeing Luke - fucking Luke - tonight. I never felt so hurt, so guilty before after he told me all that. It was hard to fathom it and how he was looking this entire time. God damn. Just... damn! Each time my mind crossed that exact thought and the reason he was in Connecticut, my heart would succumb to the desire to burn internally and spread. I couldn't let that happen though. Not yet, not yet. I needed to get some answers. Ones to questions that pissed me off to the core. Like maybe how couldn't they have told him where I was?! And why lie and say they did tell me?! Jackson is a dead fucking uncle, ladies and gents.

He must have known this whole time. After all, he was the one that I pushed to ask the FBI to tell Luke where I was. He said he requested it and it was granted. He must have known. The FBI for certain. All those meeting throughout the three years.... They would come to talk to me and were full of reports of how Luke was doing. Saying he was fine, he was slowly moving, especially now with a new girl.... From the looks of it, he wasn't and didn't even have a chance too move on. If they weren't lying, they would have mentioned how desperate he was. Maybe how he was looking left and right for me. Did they leave that out to not make me worry? Or did they lie all together for anotther reason? Fuck, was this Katherine chick they mentioned even real? Why would they lie to me about all this stuff?

I was going to find out. And I was starting with the man that lived right across the street from me. It made me want to accelerate my car even more. I could feel the need to get to Jackson and face him pulse in my veins. It made me force my tears away as best as I could, shoving aside the shock of the matter and focusing on just getting home tonight. And when I did pull into my driveway, I was moving the second I stepped out of the car.

Jackson had something coming his way tonight but I knew he wasn't going anywhere and I could try and calm down a bit. Or just get what I needs to be done first then kick his ass. He wasn't leaving; he was sleeping by now probably. So it gave me a minute needed when I walked up from my car to my house, opened my door with the key, and stepped inside.