Suicidal Thoughts{Finished}

My hand started to shake as I raised the tip of the gun to my temple. I quickly found a pencil, all of the pre-written suicide notes came to my mind, pages and pages say who exactly made me feel this way- but only a few words were written; I love you, Luke.



6. 6

My eyes fluttered open, and I felt immediate pain past my neck. I shifted only a little to find someone's hands on my waist. My eyes shot open fully, coming fully aware of my surroundings. I realized I was back in my home, my whole night rushing back to my thoughts. It was then when I realized it was Luke holding me in place. With a struggle, I turned to face him, ready to push him away. I was face to face with blood shot eyes that belonged to my ex-boyfriend. I took in his appearance, his eyes searching mine for any source of emotion. His eyes were glazed over already, leaning forward and gentle pressing his lips against mine. He was very gentle, as if every movement was a risk, that he might break me if he added more pressure.

"I love you," as soon as those three words slipped from his mouth, there was a long silence as if he had said it by mistake and I was waiting for the apology, the 'I'm sorry', but instead he surprised me with, "And I always will."

"I-I love you, too," I croaked out, on the verge of tears.

I knew what I was saying was true, but I could never know about Luke's. I mean, he had witnessed the mess I was last night, and he was able to say those words without cringing? That didn't seem right, or maybe he was in love with me, I was just too stupid to realize it. The song he sung to me last night filled my ears, and I knew that I didn't deserve it. I didn't deserve him at all, whether we were just friends, or boyfriend and girlfriend. I knew his fans thought that too, they wouldn't let me go a day without reminding me how fat, or ugly I was. To be honest, the hate the fans told me constantly never really bothered me. The kind of hate I took seriously were the people who knew me for a few years. The ones who knew every little secrete of mine, and still told me I was too ugly or not good enough. I could give less of a shit if people who only seen my face, they know nothing.

Luke's arms pulled me closer, bringing me away from my thoughts. I cringed as fabric moved across my cuts, but I still felt safe in his arms. We laid there, cuddling for a long while. He had told me he loved me, was that a sign that we were back together now? Or was he just saying that so I didn't propel myself off a cliff while he was sitting with me?

"So," Luke murmured softly, no good conversation ever starts with that word.


"I'm going on tour soon..." he murmured, his blue eyes meeting mine, which do not even closely compare to the beauty of his. "I can't take you this time, a-and I thought you would want to be broken up with me for that time- I didn't want you thinking that I didn't love you, because I never stopped."

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I didn't know how to respond to that, it didn't sound true, but it didn't sound like a lie, either. I just didn't want to say anything wrong, I couldn't lose him. I couldn't afford to lose him, but it seemed he was leaving whether or not I liked it.

"I don't want to leave you," he murmured against my forehead.

"Can you explain a few things to me?" I asked, trying to change the subject. The thought of Luke leaving with my smiles and laughs hurt, but it actually happening drained the little bit of existing happiness I had left in me, if any was there at all.

"Like what?"

"Why in the world did you decide not to buy the swimsuit, only to tell me we should have?" I asked, not moving my gaze away from his chest. I left out the part where he basically shunned my scars and made me more self-conscious than I already was. I was deciding to be nice to him for right now.

The silence between us was sickening, I could only imagine what was going on in Luke's mind. "I thought you looked more than wonderful in the bikini." He told me, finally. I had nothing to say. I mean, what could I say? I didn't respond to the information he was giving me, I wanted to ask him why he thought that. Why he thought I looked wonderful, why he thought I was anything but disgusting. "I mean you looked really, really hot," He chuckled, his hand moving to my back, settling on the small of it.

He pulled me closer, so my stomach pressed against his, "What about and um ... stuff?" I asked awkwardly, seeing that Luke's awkwardness had successfully rubbed off on me.

Again, silence. I could feel anger running through my blood, why couldn't he just give me a straight answer right when I asked for it? I knew it was a touchy subject and all, it was with everyone. However, his slow responses got me thinking. I wanted to crawl into his ear, sit on the canal to his thoughts, and just listen to every single word or sentence he ever thought about me. I wanted to know what he hated about me, what he loved, if everything he told me that was true or not. I wanted to know a lot more than just what he thought about me. For God's sake, these past two years have been all about me; how I was feeling, how long I'd been clean, where I was going, if I was okay, whether I was getting better, whether I was getting worse. I was absolutely tired of myself, I was beginning to realize that he probably knew more about me than I did.

"I mean," He started, shaking my thoughts away, "You're scares are a part of you, and I love you." he paused a moment, "Scars, or not, I love you."

I took in his words, wanting to believe. There was nothing more I wanted than to just be engulfed in happiness, something I hadn't felt in a while. "Please don't leave me," I said, not realizing I had been crying until that moment. "Like, ever," I murmured, trying to hide the fact that I was finally crumbling.

Luke didn't say anything, and that's exactly what I wanted. There always had been days where I'd just lay in bed, no words passing between us because we knew there was nothing to say on the state I was in. That the only thing I wanted was his touch, the one that reminded me why I was still alive.

I wanted to kiss Luke. In the rain, on the stairs, against the wall with my hands in his hair. Under a bridge, beneath the stars, in my dreams and every morning before I was forced to face reality once more. Cuddled under the sheers or upon the cold floor. Anywhere, anytime, anyplace. My internal clock revolves around him. But I hoped he'd never make me kiss him goodbye.

I looked up to Luke, my eyes all watery and blood shot. His lips met mine. Oh my God, this must sound as cliché as hell, but there was a spark. It was bigger than one of those stupid pop it’s you use when you're younger to torture the neighbor's dog, it was bigger than those grand fireworks in the sky on Fourth of July. Luke made me love breathing, and was the only one who was able to do that by taking my breath away. He kissed me like my lips were air and he could breath.

Soon than later, he pulled away, a smile growing on his cheeks. I couldn't see clearly, not wearing my glasses still, but I could tell when Luke was happy. The smile that seemed to stretch at his cheeks made me smile, too. I let out a small giggled, placing my head back down on his arm. Luke shifted a little, sitting up and grabbing his phone.

"Smile," he demanded, the flash blinding.

I knew he was going to post it on twitter, so I lunged at him, but he held me back with a firm hand. "Noooo," I squealed, trying relentlessly at grabbing the damn phone from his grasp.

"You're so cute in the morning, though," he laughed, already up loading it onto twitter.

I pouted, then searched for my phone. I realized I was still only in my bra and pants from the night before.

The night before. God, I really hoped he wouldn't bring the whole situation up today; it was his birthday after all.

"Happy two-oh" I said, smiling at him.

I finally found my phone in the bathroom, holding the towel tight against my stomach. I looked around, seeing that Luke had cleaned up the blood and gore. I came to the conclusion that he had probably flushed my blades, as I couldn't find them anywhere. However, it'd only keep me safe from my house. Lord knows I could walk down to the corner shop and buy a package of fifty heavy duty blades. I shuffled around a bit until I felt like I was being watched, so I glanced at the door. Low and behold, Mr. Hemmings was standing in the doorway.

"Stop being a creep," I joked, stiffing a laugh. It was partly true; everywhere I went, he went.

"You're allowed to want to kill yourself," He said, surprising me with the seriousness of his tone. I was taken a bit aback by his words, but let him continue. "But you're not allowed to do it."

He walked over to me, removing the towel from around my waist. My whole stomach was red, probably from irritation. I was actually surprised Luke hadn't taken me to the hospital with the amount of blood I had lost; but I seemed okay now. He knew how I much I wanted to stay out of the spot light, and we had to have my whole family lie about my last attempt. That I had only fell down a flight of stairs, not have a wreck holding a gun to my temple.

"You're allowed to fight with your mother, but you're not allowed to leave her crying on your bedroom floor. You're allowed to miss your ex-boyfriend, but you're not allowed to say the scars all over your arms are his fault. You're allowed to hate the girl who almost got you suspended, but you're not allowed to tell her that the world would be better off without her. You're allowed to stand on the edge of that bridge, but you're not allowed to jump off. You're allowed to be mad at the world, but you're not allowed to blame it for the state you've put yourself in. You're allowed to be sad, but you're not allowed to give up." By then, thin streaks of salty tears were streaming down my cheeks. He held me close, kissing my neck. "It's going to be okay."


Join MovellasFind out what all the buzz is about. Join now to start sharing your creativity and passion
Loading ...