Luke's POV

It's been 7 days since I've been here. One whole week.

189 days without her.

There will be more days to come. More endless weeks stuck here.

I haven't been back to the park since I last went. I don't plan on going back anytime soon, or ever for that matter. My goal is to avoid everyone, especially Delilah. After the incident at the park, I haven't seen her. But, I also haven't left the house in three days.

Technically, I've barely left my room aside from the occasional food and bathroom breaks.

“Luke,” my dad says, knocking on my door. “You need to get out of the house. It's been three days.”

Wow, you state the obvious. You're so cool Dad.

If I wanted to leave the house, I would. But I don't, so I won't.

He knocks again, a little louder this time.

Does he think I'm deaf too? Just because I refuse to talk doesn't mean I refuse to hear. I wish sometimes I could block everything out though. We have eyelids to shut our eyes, why can't we have earlids too? That'd sure help me a lot. I wouldn't have to listen to anyone.

Finally, he barges into my room. I should've locked the door. I should've escaped and jumped out the window. I look at my open window and debate whether or not I should just jump now. There's still time.

“We're going out,” he tells me.

Too late to jump. I should've gone when I had a chance.

He has his arms folded across his chest as he looks down at me. I stay sitting on my bed, refusing to move. I tap my feet on my carpet, the plushness feeling good beneath my feet.

“Luke, we are going out,” he repeats. “Be ready in 20 minutes.”

My dad walks out of my room, but I don't get up to get ready. I don't want to.

After sitting in the same position for a few minutes, I hear my dad talking to someone. I slowly walk out of my room and down the hall. His bedroom door is shut almost all the way, there's a small space that I can see him perfectly through. He's on the phone with someone, and his head is in his hands.

“Yes, Liz, I know... Liz...” He sighs and runs his hand through his hair.

Why is he talking to Mom?

“How did our son get to be like this?” I swear I just heard his voice crack. Is he crying?

I walk closer, careful not to make any noise. I need to hear what he's talking about.

“Luke used to be so happy. He used to smile. What happened to him?” There's a pause before he talks again. “It's been a rough week for both of us. Luke rarely leaves his room, and when he does, he leaves the house. He barely looks at me. Half the time he glares at me or slams doors in my face. I don't even feel like a father.”

Does he really feel that way?

“Yes, Liz, I'm aware that he's testing me. It's like this is all a big game to him. This is serious... What do you mean?... Our son has depression!...”

I wonder what my mom is saying. There's long pauses between every sentence my dad says.

Does he really think I'm testing him? I'm not testing him, that's for sure. I just genuinely hate him and this place. I hate everything and everyone, I can't help it. I can't help it that I'm depressed. I can't help that I have mood swings. I physically can't make myself do things I don't want to do, and I mentally can't handle anything. All I want to do is be alone because I constantly feel like everything is falling apart. I wish people could see that. I wish that they would just leave me alone.

I feel slightly annoyed at my dad for thinking I find this as a game. It's like he thinks I find this funny. Why would I find my situation funny? It's the total opposite. I'm a miserable train wreck of a 17 year old boy that's barely living. All I am at this point is someone that takes up space and breathes to stay alive. I'm nothing more.

“I just want him to tell me something. Anything. Write a note even... Why would Delia's death cause all this though? I don't get it...”

Don't get it? You don't get it?

I walk back into my room, not caring if I make any noise. I don't care if he heard me. His words replay in my mind over and over.

Why would Delia's death cause all this though? I don't get it.

You know what I don't get? How someone thinks they can automatically understand every single one of your problems. He hasn't lived in my shoes. He doesn't know what it's like to lose the most important person in your life.

Dad doesn't know how close I was to her. He doesn't know how important she was, and still is, to me. He doesn't know what I've gone through the past six months. He has no idea. And the fact that he doesn't understand why I'm like this because of her death proves that he doesn't care.

He doesn't care, and he never will.

I'm overcome with a sudden feeling of anger towards him. I toss the closest thing to me, which happens to be a chair, to the ground. It causes a loud noise, but I don't care. I kick my foot against the wall, scuffing it a little. I wish I never came here. I wish none of this ever happened.

“Luke!” I hear my dad scream. He runs into my room and stops in the doorway. “What is going on in here?!"

I continuously punch the wall in front of me. My hands feel numb, but I don't care. My dad runs between the wall and me, but I continue punching blindly. I can feel my fists hitting his stomach, but he doesn't move.

I hate when I do this. I can't help myself. It just happens out of nowhere. My mood flips in a matter of seconds, and I hate it. I hate everything about myself. Why do I have to be this way? I'm not normal. Normal people don't do this. I hate my whole life and everything involved in it.

My heart starts pounding a mile a minute, and my breathing picks up. My whole body is shaking furiously, and I'm becoming light headed.

“Luke, calm down. What's wrong?” my dad asks over and over. After punching him for what feels like a long time, I collapse to the ground. My legs are too weak and shaky to hold me up. I hug in my knees to my chest and rock back and forth. Deep breaths.

My dad sits beside me, but I don't want him here. I push him away, but he stays. He grabs my wrists, and I try to wriggle out of his grip, but he's too strong. I kick my legs to get him to let go, but he doesn't.

“Luke! Listen to me! Relax!” he screams.

My head is pounding, and I can hear my heart beating like a drum. It's like my heart has moved to my brain. I want to scream and yell, but I don't.

“Luke, please!”

And for some reason, I obey. I look up at him, but still try to get out of his grip. He's still holding tightly to me.

“I don't know what just happened to you. I'm not like your mom, I don't know how to handle this stuff,” he says nervously. “I know this is hard for both of us. I get that you don't want to be here. I understand. But I'm trying. I'm trying so hard.” A tear falls from his eye and rolls down his cheek. I can't believe that he's crying. “I know I haven't been the best dad. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry if you hate me, I'm sorry if you don't want to be here. But this is the situation we're in. And if you want it to get better, you have to at least try. We can figure this all out together. This is all new to me too. And I just want you to know that you're not alone in this. Please, Luke. Just try. Please.”

I breathe heavily, my chest rising and falling. My heart is finally going back to a regular beat. I'm a little more relaxed and not as angry as I was.

A few minutes ago, my dad thought this was all a game. He seemed like he didn't care. And now, he says this. I don't know what to believe. My head is pounding, and I can barely focus.

For some reason, I reach for my phone and type in a reply to my dad. I pass the phone over to him, and he reads it.

I'll try.

He looks up and smiles at me. A genuine smile. Not the cheesy “I'm proud you got that goal, son” or the “I'm really not happy with your choice, but it's your life” smile. It's a real smile.

I get up from the ground and get a little bit dizzy from the sudden motion. I blink a few times to get rid of the pain behind my eyes.

“Are you alright now?” my dad asks.

I nod, and he pats my arm awkwardly.

“Okay, well if you need anything, I'll be in my room. We can go out another time,” he says.

I don't know why I told him I'd try.

I don't know what I've gotten myself into.

All I know is that I'm stuck here for who knows how long, so I might as well try to make it work with my dad, right?

so basically if you don't know what just happened to luke, it was an anger attack. it's sort of like a panic attack, but instead of anxiety, it's anger. they have close to the same effects. it's just sudden anger that someone handles aggressively or like a panic attack.

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- ashley