laconic ↦ luke hemmings {au}

two: suit

CHAPTER TWO:

| luke's pov |

If I was going to die, I would accept it whole-heartedly. Sometimes, I'd think of killing myself with something as simple as a fork or a knife, that came with my dinner.

Tabitha would always stop me, though, as if she was that sane part of myself.

Her cold hands would hold mine back from nearly stabbing my chest or cutting my wrist vertically; her touch would always leave a bruise, like a reminder to not do it again. But I try to do it again, anyway.

I would also consider dying in my sleep, which would be painless and probably feel like a dream. That never happened. All I see are memories, which makes me want to kill myself even more.

The constant shaking of my shoulder caused me to wake up, and I saw Vicky holding a newly-bought suit for me. It was all black, apart from the white button down under the blazer. She laid it next to me, as I sat up, confused but pretty much blank in expression.

"Good morning, Lucas," she greeted me, using that 'fond nickname' and kissing my cheek, like a daily routine. I've gotten over how stomach-churning this was and went along my way, never kissing her in return. 

"Morning," I muttered, audible enough for her to understand. I honestly don't know what to think anymore– better yet, I don't want to think anymore. Whenever I try to, the most disgusting memories flood my head, and the only trace of Emma is how she died, her blood splattering on me.

"Wear this after breakfast; we'll be going somewhere," Vicky informed me, motioning towards the suit then points to the tray on the table she got me a few days back for studying.  She also got me clothes I like, as well as books to read. But we never went out; she never let me out. It's not like I could anyway, and what's the point? The next morning, I'd probably found myself here again.

There was literally no escape. I don't even know where my mum is anymore– if she's even looking for me.

"Where are we going?" I asked, sitting down in front of my breakfast and eating like an obedient dog following his owner's orders. I almost never complained anymore.

She laughed, for what reason, I don't know. "It's a surprise." After that, she left the room without another word, probably to prepare herself for wherever we were going. 

Of course, I didn't say anything anymore. I only ate and ate, though I tasted nothing. It's lately been like this, tasteless food and emotionless looks. It's as if this is how my life will be, until the very end.

"Don't go." It was more of an order, rather than a request. Her voice was firm and cold, much like the vibe in the room. 

I frowned. "Why?"

"You're going to get hurt," she replied, a gentler tone than earlier.

"Then that's great," I mumbled, standing up, having no more appetite and trudging towards the clothes on my bed. I began to change, not bothering to take a bath today. I could always do that when I get back.

"Emotional pain, Luke. It's not physical." 

I buttoned my jeans and reached for the white button down, but Tabitha stopped me.

"Please don't go," she begged this time, her black pupils directly focused on me. Her pale hand was holding my wrist. She seemed very fixated on letting me not go, but it wasn't going to work.

I still took the shirt and put it on, buttoning it one by one. "Just tell me where we're going."

Knowing I wouldn't change my mind, she slowly faded. "Emma's funeral."