laconic ↦ luke hemmings {au}

prologue: tea

PROLOGUE:

| luke's pov |

She traced her fingers on the side of my face; if I had the will to move away, I would have. But with Emma gone, I'd given up. I've lost the will.

There was no reason to keep moving forward– there was nothing to look forward to.

Every day, I cried. I cried because I couldn't do it anymore. I cried because I was stuck in this place. I cried because I knew it was my fault.

I could have done something. I could have stood up and fought for her. But I didn't.

And not a day goes by that I don't think about it. 

If I wasn't helpless and weak, I could have helped her. She could have lived. We didn't have to be together; I just wanted her to be alive. 

"Aw, you poor thing," Vicky cooed, her hand finding its way to the hem of my shirt. "You haven't had some fun in a long time, haven't you?"

I had nothing to say, so I just stared blankly at her. I wasn't threatened, in any way. I had lost the only thing important to me– there was nothing else I could lose.

"I guess Emma was really not of use, after all." She laughed, mockingly, lifting up my shirt, trying to get it off me.

My eyes narrowed; talking to me that way was fine, Emma was a different story.

I moved away from her, her grasp on my shirt being released. I didn't leave the room. I stood there, glaring at her.

She rolled her eyes. "She deserved to die, and you know it."

"No," I muttered, again and again. She didn't. I should have died.

Her cold hands cupped my face, and she kissed me. I had my lips pursed tightly, which stopped her from getting any further. 

Vicky pulled away and smiled at me. "Let's continue this later." She left the room I was in, and as always, she locked it from the outside, so I had nowhere to go but here.

I wiped my lips with the back of my hand. I tried to erase the appalling taste on my lips– which was of tea. It wasn't the one I liked.

It didn't taste like chocolate.

"No... I don't want this."