psychotic // l.h.

16 - scratch

Ok, I'm sorry for not updating but I've had such bad writers block so I'm really sorry. I'm also sorry that the majority of this chapter is me sub-consiously day dreaming about Luke Hemmings, which happens often but I try not to let it slip into my writing, oops.

Lot's of love and happy holidays,

-Em

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I must have fallen asleep at some point as I woke up with a warm, empty space next to me with the dent of Luke’s body in the sheets. I smelled the burnt pancakes downstairs and in a flash, rushed down to see the damage.

 

Luke, stood by the stove, dishevelled hair covering his furrowed eyebrows as he attempted to put out the fire that was roaring on the stove. I gasped and he whipped around quickly with a  guilty expression on his face.

 

“What the fuck are you doing!?” I screamed over the commotion.

 

“I was trying to make breakfast that wasn’t corn flakes!” He screamed back and I ran to the cabinet and grabbed to baking sheet and ran to the stove to smother the oxygen. The fire died quickly and Luke and I sighed in relief.

 

“Fuck.” Luke muttered, running a hand down his face.

 

“Hey, it’s ok. I don’t mind the corn flakes.” I said, walking over to the cupboards and grabbing the cereal.

 

“You’re really cool.” Luke said, as he watched me make his bowl of cereal.

 

“What?”

 

“I just, I think you’re really cool.”

 

“Um, thanks.” I said, leaning back onto the counter and gripping the edge.

 

“Ashton didn’t appreciate you.”

 

“Gee, thanks for reminding me.”

 

“I’m sorry.” he muttered under his break, leaning on the counter opposite me and folding his arms over his chest. The ever permanent look of exhaustion resting on his face along with the red marks from him racking his nails down his face etched into his skin. They were worse this morning, I only didn’t notice it because of the fire.

 

“Luke, your scratches are a lot worse.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you have any polysporin or something? A face cloth I could use to ease the pain.” I asked, starting to go upstairs to the bathroom and pulling him along behind me.

 

“They don’t hurt.”

 

“Luke, even though you need help, you’re still human and you still need to be treated when you’re hurt.” I said, in a motherly tone, pulling him into the bathroom and looking through the cupboard. they was no polysporin, I doubted there would be any in the first place. But, I did come across a face cloth and wet it with cool water under the sink. Luke stood behind me and watched his stance ridged as ever and his gaze hard and blank.

 

I hopped up on the counter and leaned forward to grab onto his limp hand resting by his side. His palms were cold and sweaty.

 

“I’m just going to try to sooth the pain, tell me if it stings.” he nodded and stood between my legs looking over my head, refusing to meet my eyes. He had shut down all emotions ever since I mentioned his scratches, they had never been this bad before. One had a drop dried blood and that scared me so much that I wanted to make sure his nails stayed short.

 

I pressed the cool cloth into the first scratch, right above the left side of his lip. He leaned into the cool cloth, breathing a sigh of relief. I sighed happily, knowing that this was doing the trick and calming the burning sensation he’s probably been feeling for hours. His eyes fluttered closed and I was allowed to look at him. His eyebrows, his cheekbones, eyelashes, how soft his hair looked all flat and sleepy. All this scratches and little scars from his years of destroying himself, little by little, mentally and physically.

 

He reacted to the the cool cloth on his skin like someone would react to a loved one kissing their face, with little sighs and tender expression. I reached out and traced my fingers softly over the skin I was trying to numb, silently begging my fingers to not tremble. His lips parted ever so slightly but he didn’t move, he became he more still than before, as if any sudden movements might scare me off. I drew a straight like from his right cheek to his chin, then let my touch wander to his mouth.

 

“Luke?” I whispered.

 

“Yeah?” He mumbled back.

 

“Why do you do this to yourself?”

 

“Because I deserve it.” He said, his eyes snapping open and digging into mine. He looked like he was going to cry but closed his eyes and whispered for me to continue. I nodded to myself and continued dabbing, reaching the small amount of almost dried blood that had be worried.

 

“Luke, this one might sting because its a bit bloody.”

 

“Ok. Thank you for warning me.”

 

I dabbed at the cut but all I heard was a sharp intake of breath and nothing else.

And then his hands moved up my legs and rested on my thighs, squeezing the skin and rubbing small circles with his thumb, eyes clenched tightly as I dabbed at the scars.