Magnolia

f i v e

"I don't know what you mean" I responded, eyes cast to the floor. I knew exactly what he meant. Are you sure you should be getting close to someone? Are you sure you should be bringing him into this? Are you sure he's worth the risk? 

John, the father figure he was, saw right through my bullshit. He sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he shook his head. "You didn't get here by accident, kid. You're smart enough to know exactly what I mean," he said, setting me with a stare that forced me to drop the act. 

"Yeah, I know what I'm doing" I responded, scuffing my shoe against the tiled floor. I didn't know what the hell I was doing but knew I had to do it. But how could I explain that to John? In our lives, we don't base our actions on feelings, only facts. So how could I tell him? How could I justify it? "Luke...h-he's different okay? I'm being careful, I promise." I admitted, knowing it was risky. 

I couldn't stay away if I wanted to. Even if I did want to, Luke wouldn't let me. He had already made that blatantly clear. The only way to keep him out of this was to relocate; up and vanish. But I couldn't do that. Not again. 

John looked at me, the lines on his face looking deeper, the bags under his eyes looking heavier under the light of the moon. Sighing, he looked away into the woods behind the house. "That's what I thought that about my wife" he muttered, running a hand over his face, "Now look at me," he whispered, a glimmer of tears in his worn eyes. 

An ache panged in my chest as I noticed his naked ring finger, fear, and guilt swirling in my stomach. "It'll be okay, John. I-I have it uncontrol" I replied, trying to convince myself more than John. 

He gave me one last look, his eyes reading me as if he was telepathic. With a long exhale, he decided to let it go, knowing it was a losing battle. "Okay, kid. Just be careful. And call me if you need anything." he instructed, stepping down the stairs. "I'll see you at work" he called softly over his shoulder as he reached his car, climbing in. 

I waved goodbye, slowly shutting the door. Resting my head against the cool wood, I stared down at my hands which had begun to shake. I released a breath that I didn't realize I'd been holding, my eyes squeezing shut in frustration. I couldn't leave Luke, couldn't cut him out of my life. But I needed him safe more than anything. 

Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, my muscles riddled with fatigue. This was a problem for the morning, I decided, locking the door twice for extra measures. I climbed back upstairs, creeping slowly back into Luke's room, where he hadn't moved an inch.  

Careful not to wake him, I slowly peeled off his ripped shirt, fishing around in the bathroom medicine cabinet where I found a first aid kit. Disinfecting the scratches, I made sure they would heal as quickly as they could. 

Next, I pulled off his shoes, placing them neatly by the door, along with the socks that I tossed into the hamper. In fact, I just picked up all the dirty clothes off the floor, tossing them in the hamper. His room instantly looked ten times better. 

I pulled back the covers from beneath him, noticing the beer stains that covered his jeans. Sighing, I removed the alcohol-soaked pants, unable to hide the hot blush that rose on my cheeks. I quickly covered him with the comforter, putting his pants with the rest of the laundry. 

Next, I carefully placed a wastebasket next to his bed, because after ingesting alcohol and drugs, the stomach had a tendency to try to purge itself.  I also remembered to leave a glass of water and two Advil on the nightstand, which I had also pulled from the medicine cabinet.

Looking around the room, I was finally satisfied with my work. Luke was safe, and after an unfortunate hangover, he'd be okay. Traumatized, scared, confused, but safe. And that was what was most important to me.