laconic ↦ luke hemmings {au}

seven: cold

CHAPTER SEVEN:

| luke's pov |

"Now, now, go inside the room." Vicky ushered me towards a door I had a bad feeling about. It was a place that I had never been to, but it wasn't like I had a choice to actually walk around ever since I had gotten back here. I merely idled myself with staring into space and losing hope.

I stared at her dully, making no move and sound. Her eyes were shining with excitement and were meant to make me enthusiastic about the whole situation; however, I felt nothing of the sort. I just felt empty.

Before opening the door, she smiled triumphantly at me. "I made it just for you. I know you'll be happy!" With that, she pushed me inside and closed the door shut. I heard her giggle, making several exclamations of her so-called masterpiece.

My eyes were glued to the floor, regaining a sense of fear. The only sound in the room was creaking. Nothing and no one was moving towards me, but I had thought that maybe it was a new 'toy' of Vicky's or maybe even something morbid, like the body of a person she had killed.

I slowly looked up to find a rocking chair. Back and forth it went, continuously. It didn't slow down nor speed up. It was just steadily moving. What was causing me to grow panicked was that there was someone on it, not doing anything. As far as I could tell from my position in front of the door, the person was a girl.

Her white dress' edges peeked out, and it seemed familiar, as if I had seen it once or twice before. It made the debate, about whether or not I should approach her, in my head worse.

Deciding against leaving, because I knew I would find myself again here if I didn't deal with it right now, I took cautious steps towards the girl. I wished that this wasn't a sick joke of Vicky's to frighten me from ever going around her home.

With each step I drew closer to the chair, the creaking had lessened.

The chair had fully stopped, when I was right behind it. My palms were sweating, as I noticed her brown hair. I haven't seen her ever since she was gone, but I knew who this was.

I also knew it was impossible for her to be here.

"Is that you?" I asked, voice cracking as tears welled up in my eyes. "It can't be you, right?"

Her head, that was tilted this whole time, didn't move an inch. It was just stationary in place, along with the rest of her body. Her hands were neatly folded on her lap, while she faced the window.

I walked in front of her, and that's when I lost it. I was crying my eyes out the moment I saw her face. To the smallest detail, everything was exactly as how I remembered Emma. The only difference was - this was a doll, cold and lifeless.

There were no eyes brimming with hope, no smile shining with joy, and no warmth emanating from her hand when I held it. She was the exact replica of Emma, but at the same time, she just wasn't her.

No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I force myself to see this creation of Vicky's as the person I love, it just wasn't the same. Why do I keep looking when I know she won't ever come back? Why do I keep trying when I know it's all useless?

Why do I keep loving when there's no one to love anymore?

My arms remain empty, the same way my heart stays dead.