Chapter 10

"I hate you right now!" I yelled at the ceiling in anger, not wanting to look at him from where he was sitting next to the bed - excuse me, my bed - in a chair throughout most of the day. He wasn't kidding about keeping an eye on me either. He hasn't left me alone much besides when I went to the bathroom. The real ass-kicker of the matter was the fact that the bathroom was the only place I could go without him and there were no windows in there!

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first dozen times," he said from where he sat besides my bed, not affected by those words because he I already told him that seemingly countless times. Laying in bed all day makes me angry especially because of the reason. All I wanted was some cocaine. Was that too much to ask for? I mean, seriously, it didn't seem that bad. It wasn't like I was asking for a fucking nuclear bomb here. Just some cocaine, no biggie. According to him, it was very much a big deal. Cops are cops, I guess.

The pill he gave me was wearing off as well and that wasn't helping. It was getting later in the day and I felt the burning sensation start to rise in me again. Guess that pill could only hold the fight for a couple hours. I felt sick all day but now, I felt that feeling growing even more again. I wanted to get those drugs, any from anywhere, it didn't matter anymore! It would heal the hole that was burning in my body and it would make me feel better. Because... oh god, because if I didn't get it soon, I could feel the literal urge to scratch my skin raw of frustration.

But Luke was here, watching and knowing that soon enough, I wouldn't be able to stand any more and would try to escape. That was why he wasn't taking any chances. He sat in that chair all day next to my bed. It ticked me off, reminding me of someone that couldn't take care of themselves or someone who needed a babysitter. Though it was a different reason besides just the regular 'keep an eye on her while I'm gone' I still didn't like how weak I was feeling. Despite the circumstances. I just wanted control.... And control was something I thrived in since the time I left home to live on the streets.

Eyebrows dipped low in pain and anger, I kept my eyes nailed to the ceiling, not wanting to look to my side and see him. His pretty face pissed me off. So, I was staring at the ceiling, the sweat returning to me even though I wasn't under the covers and the air conditioner was blasting. I was wearing a pair of shorts and a tank-top to stay as cool as I could, my messy and wavy black hair in it's usual bun. Yet, I was still starting to sweat. Yeah, I know. Very attractive.

"Dude, I need another one of those pills," I groaned up to the ceiling while still laying on my back.

I heard Luke sigh. "Dude, I can't give you one," he said, mocking me.

At hearing that, I turned my head to the side to look at him, my cheek pressed against the cover of the bed. Taking in his figure, slumped and tired in the chair, his eyes were buried in what his hands held before him. He was glancing through a file and I could only assume it had to do with something concerning his job. He appeared tired but what else was new? He hadn't got much sleep since I have been here.

After he said he called in for work and was staying home to watch me, he changed out of his uniform and back into comfortable clothes. Instead of a tee-shirt, his upper body supported a white muscle shirt that showed off his muscular shoulders and arms. He was in jeans again. At least he looked comfortable. I was drowning in my own sweat on the other hand. And where he had entertainment through the form of a file, I had nothing. Maybe that was better than skimming through a boring file then again....

"Why the hell not?" I asked, mad. Didn't he know I was suffering right now?

He looked up from where he was looking in the file, blank faced and meeting my eyes with his. "Forgetting the fact that you hate me, you just took the pill this morning. You can take it again tonight at seven but not before that. You can only have one every 12 hours."

I stared at him. "You. Are. Fucking. Kidding. Me." Of course, just because a stupid bottle of meds said 'take every 12 hours' I am going to continue to suffer. Wasn't there an exception? I was hurting and felt terrible. Didn't he understand? Oh wait, of course he did. He understood everything.

He sighed, closing the file that was open in his hands and rested the folder on his lap, setting his eyes on me with a small frown of disapproval. Not even acknowledging the fact that I was starting to thrive in that deadly pain again, he said, "You really need to start watching your language."

Wow. He was actually capable of making me laugh through the pain. The chuckle released through my lips tickled my mind to at just hearing his words again in my head. "Yeah? I think if anyone, I have a right to swear. There is a lot for me to swear about."

"Your mother would not appreciate it. And I get the fact that to you, she deserves it. But I really can't care about what is going through your head when my wife is hurting because her daughter hates her. I made a deal to keep you two from seeing each other in private. So you can at least help me out a bit and stop the swearing and disrespect you give her and me."

I smirked. "The deal was you keep us from being together alone. But I also agreed not to fight you or run. Don't drag the deal back into this. That's weak."

"It really had nothing to do with the deal. I'm just pointing out that I have done a lot to keep you out of jail, to help you get off drugs, to try to help you stay 'safe' around Clare. I'm tired and I am still quite angry at all that has happened," he groaned, looking down before back up to me and I could tell he didn't like the subject of what he said next. "I am your stepfather. No matter if I am ready for that or not, I am. And that means, I am going to help and be your friend. But I'm going to need some respect back and won't allow you to push me around."

I understood where he came from. And I admit, being here with Clare, I could use help and a friend. But I didn't want his help, didn't want to accept any. I should be strong enough to do this on my own. Not to mention, he would always be on Clare's side more than mine no matter if he wants to have a relationship with me.

Pursing my lips, wiping away a bead of sweat that began rolling down along my nose, I said honestly, "I respect you. However, you can't expect me to respect Clare. And you absolutely can't get me to stop swearing. Swearing is a large part of my personality," I said and was surprised to see a small smile appear on his tired face. I saw it really wasn't the swearing that bothered him; he just wanted the respect.

"I know, I can tell," he said. His small smile vanished a second later, fading with every word that continued to be released from his lips. "I can't get you to respect Clare. But you respect me and that means you understand my position here. Clare is my wife and I will always be on her side. But that doesn't mean I'm not on yours."

I groaned, moving to lay on my back, my eyes returning to the familiar spot on the ceiling. "Whatever," was all I could say. Groaning, I closed my eyes and dipped my eyebrows at the pain and confusion that came with the feeling of a swarming head and tingling sensation that moved in waves over me. The sweat that was forming along my skin didn't seem to stop coming as I could feel it in a gradual mist roll down my neck and face; I felt my back was damp as well. Swallowing, willing the pain to leave, I heard myself moan softly from it. "Can we just move the clocks ahead a few hours, call it 7 o'clock, and let me get some damn relief?"

He said nothing but rather stood up instead. Not bothering to look over to him, I could hear his footsteps echo through my floor as he moved, heading towards the door.

The door.... Oh god, maybe if he leaves, I can make a move, try to escape. He said he would catch me and I was positive he would. But... I had to try at some point. Relief was all I wanted and needed. It was calling for me and I had no clue where to get it. But I at least needed to get out of here to give me a chance to look.

Hearing his footsteps near the door, he spoke, as if he read my mind. "Don't even think about it. You can fight it," he said as he left my room and walked only a few feet down the hall I could hear. Eyes open, before I even had time to think over his words, he was back and I scolded myself. I should have got up the second he was away!

He neared my bed and as my gaze rested back on the ceiling, I saw him come into my sight. He was leaning over me at the bedside. His green eyes were framed perfectly with his thick eyebrows that were raised in worry over my condition now that the pill seemed to be wearing off. In the next second, something else entered my vision and I saw his hand move up and above my head. He was holding a damp wash clothe.

He pressed it against my head, letting the damp and wet material help in cooling me down. It felt good and after he let go, moving back to his chair and sitting back down, I took the rag that he placed on my forehead. It felt so nice... I dragged it over my face and around my neck, wiping away the sweat. But that's all it would do, no matter how refreshing it felt. The pain would remain.

"Isn't there anything else that would help?" I asked him.

"No," he said simply. "Distraction may help," he said and I felt a small movement on my bed. Glancing to my side, I saw he was back in his chair, slumped and tired but this time, he just placed his feet on my bed as if it were a footrest. Couldn't blame him. The guy was tired and he was sitting in that chair all day so far.

"Then what are you still doing sitting over there?" I asked with a smirk. He rolled his eyes, ignoring those words. It still kind of made me mad that my sexually suggesting comments didn't affect him. It didn't make him angry, surprised, embarrassed.... He just brushed them off and it made me pissed and uneasy. Like I wasn't in control again; like I couldn't have the correct affect on people I was intending.

"This is only the beginning of a very long week or more. It will get worse. You will need to find something to distract you," he said. "Something to keep your mind busy and away from the thought of drugs and away from the pain."

Jesus Christ, what the hell were my options? How could I keep myself busy if I'm going to be laying down in bed all day. Watching TV wouldn't hold my attention against what was happening to me and neither would anything else it seemed.

"Like with what?" I asked in frustration. What the hell did he know about this? Nothing. He said he understood and knew what was happening to my body. Congratu-fucking-lations. But he didn't know how it felt at all! "You have no idea...." I said under my breath, looking away from him.

The second after I said it though, I got a reaction from him I didn't expect. A reaction that surprised me. I felt his feet leave the side of my bed and heard with the squeak of the chair, he shifted. It drew my gaze back over to him and I saw that he was sitting forward more, eyes full of... impatience? Maybe a percentage of frustration. Whatever it was, it was very much stressed, as if he really wanted me to see it. The mossy green color on my boring brown, his graze never broke when he started to speak.

"I don't have any idea? That is where you are very wrong. You think you are the only one who has or is experiencing this? You're not."

I raised my eyebrows. "You did drugs and went through withdrawal?"

"Why, do I seem like the type that wouldn't?" he said in a quieter voice back, raising an eyebrow in return.

I nodded. It was the truth. He didn't seem like he would do that at all. "Uh, yeah. You are a cop, for one. Plus, you just don't seem like the type that would."

He scoffed. "Well, then you don't know who I really am then. Wonder why that is," he mumbled, referring to the fact that I seemed to always want to shut out his invitation regarding a friendship or any relationship in that matter.

I really didn't give him a chance and still, I didn't really want to. But I can't lie; I was curious. He came off as someone that was strict to the rules and laws. I mean, he is a cop. That would seem a little obvious. But on top of that, his personality... so far, he just wanted to help and be nice, do the right thing. Yet, I realized at that moment, it was wrong of me to judge him when I wouldn't bother giving him the chance to show me more before.

"What did you do?" I asked, searching his eyes.

"Weed. I never did do cocaine. But I know what you are going through. My best friend and I in high school got addicted to the feeling of weed - but very strongly. It's very rare, getting addicted to a drug that is harmless for the most part. Yet, for some very strange reason, we had a bad reaction and became addicted. Probably because our dealer slipped something in it. We felt weak mentally, mostly because it looked a little wimpy, getting addicted to a drug that wasn't that bad for you. So, we got off it and went through the same amount of pain you will be enduring. That's why I figured at first that you were addicted to weed. That you were a rare case like me who may have had something slipped into your weed. But I thought that was all you were smoking and it turns out that wasn't the case."

I stared at him and shifted slightly, laying on my side so I could see him better and was facing him. I rested my head against my outstretched arm and rested the wet rag in the crook of my neck. Watching him, hearing in his voice the painful memory, I understood how he must have felt weak. Knowing you got addicted to weed while nobody else really does... it sounded like he was weak for the fact that he wasn't able to handle it, it seemed. Most likely, it was just the way his body was or his weed was tampered with.

"How did you get through it?" I asked.

Pursing his lips, a sad expression crossed his face. "With nobody."

That wasn't really the answer I was looking for but it was enough for me to keep me intrigued. He had nobody there to support him. He had to get through it alone according to his words. Yet, I couldn't wrap my head around that part. Knowing the pain and facing it in me... it hurt. And with knowing it can get worse made his words seem even more impossible.

"But then how did you get through it? With nobody to stop you from going after those drugs, with no one there to hold you down as you wither in pain...? I don't get it." I wasn't sure who could be strong enough to hold themselves back. If he wasn't here, to keep me from running away and finding drugs, I would have been gone the minute the craving started. "How did you keep yourself from going after it?"

Though his eyes were settled on mine, they appeared to be in the past. "I knew it would be hell and I wouldn't be able to go through it without something holding me down. I didn't want my family to be burdened and knew the best way to do this would be to do it on my own. So, before it got to the worst stage of the withdrawal, I went into my bathroom and installed a long metal bar that reached across the whole bathroom and made sure the only way to remove it would be with tools. Then, I handcuffed my wrist to it after so I couldn't get out. So I would be forced to endure the pain. I made a decision. And that was to quit drugs and I wasn't going to let the need cloud my mind. So, that's what I had to do," he said.

My eyes widened and instantly, I had a million questions. I mean... it took a lot of guts to do that and know how painful it would be. It left me imagining how bad it could have got. "How did you eat or sleep?"

"Before I handcuffed myself to the bar, I brought in at least a two week supply of food. And the bar was low to the ground so I could lay on the floor and go to sleep - though it was incredibly uncomfortable with my wrist cuffed above me all night."

"So the bar you were handcuffed to allowed you to move around the bathroom? So you could eat, drink, sleep, shower, and use the toilet?"

He nodded and took a deep breath after he told me all this. "Yep. No medicine, no help.... Just me and my pain for nine days."

I felt weak and ashamed now, whining about the pill I needed to take again and something to distract me. For giving him attitude throughout all of this. It hurt me, the stupid withdrawal. But it was way better than what he said he went through. He didn't need to be here with me, didn't have to watch me or keep an eye on me. I figured that at first, he was watching me because he didn't want to leave me alone when he knew I would try to escape and find cocaine. I believed he was watching me because it was an obligation.

Yet, he could have done that a different way. He could accomplish it if he just handcuffed me and left me to suffer alone like he did. It would have ensured no escape for me, no way to get drugs. It would have ensured I go through the pain, even without him watching me. He could easily accomplish it without watching me like he was now. It would be easier for him... but instead, he was making it easier for me.

He was taking time just to comfort me, just so I wouldn't have to go through this alone like he did. Just so he could help me. Help.... Well goddamn. He was tired, exhausted, sitting there all day just so I wouldn't be chained somewhere. He took the place of the handcuffs. And for that, I was really grateful.

"So... alone, in there for nine days," I said, getting that straight because it seemed like a really long time.

"Yeah, nine days."

I shook my head in a slight daze as my imagination ran wild with what could have happened. "Damn man, just imagine if you plugged the toilet on the first day in. Think about it. You go through hell with the pain. And then, on top of that, you would have to endure the smell of your own shit for nine days. God, that seriously would have sucked ass for you."

When I said that to him, his face broke and I saw his lips tilt up in amusement before they broke apart, exposing a bright smile with perfect teeth and all. He chuckled with that mesmerizing smile at what I said and his eyes on me were no longer holding that memory but the humor I brought to it. But really, I was quite serious. What if that actually happened? If it did, he would have been hating himself the whole nine days because he couldn't pass up eating fruits or vegetables the day before.

"God," he said as his throaty chuckle died down, one that I quite liked listening to. "What I can't imagine is what else is going on in your head. You are different from most girls your age, you know."

"I take that as a complement. Girls my age annoy me."

His gaze that was set on me... transitioned into a different kind of look. One that said he was observing or rather just trying to figure me out. A second of silence led to his lips tilting up into a clever while satisfied smile before he spoke. "So, did that help?"

"What do you mean?"

"How did you feel while we were talking?" He continued, and I snorted at the thought of what his question was asking.

I smirked. "I'm not a fan of the whole 'lets talk about our feelings' thing."

He glared at me. "I mean, how do you physically feel?"

Thinking about it, about the pain that was growing in me... I didn't really pay any mind to it when we were talking. In fact, it's as if I somehow was able to completely ignore the burning heat that was flowing over my body. I hadn't noticed it in those few minutes chatting with him. Talking to him, that distracted me. I kind of wish it was something else that did the job but yeah, I admit it; talking to him was interesting enough to forget about my sick body.

I pursed my lips, not wanting to say it but he already knew it was true that our conversation was distraction enough. "Yeah, yeah, I didn't feel anything while we were talking," I mumbled.

I assumed he would have taken satisfaction out of that, as if he somehow proved me wrong because that was kind of how it felt. But he looked at me with curiosity and sympathy. "Why does it bother you that just talking to me helped?"

I didn't want to say. Really, it was just because I always rolled my eyes and the thought of communicating properly; I did it with a sarcastic remark most times. It wasn't like my usual self, to just talk freely and I didn't like that it felt as if I was going soft. Soft as in losing control over a situation. Soft as in feeling emotions. I didn't like that. Didn't like that I appreciated what he was doing or that I felt sorry for him because he had it worse than me with withdrawal. I guess I already gave him the answer without realizing it. Jokingly, I said it. But really, it was the truth.

I'm not a fan of the whole 'lets talk about our feelings' thing.

I didn't get the chance to answer - which was for the best in my opinion. I don't like opening up, feeling emotions that are foreign to me. Though I was glad I didn't get the chance to say anything to him on the matter, I hated what the reason was that I couldn't finish.

That moment, two light taps came from where my bedroom door was just barely cracked open. Since I was on my side, facing him, the door was also in my line of sight. I wish it wasn't, not when my sight couldn't handle the ugliness I found to be my mother.

After she knocked on the already open door - either to get our attention or because she was stupid and didn't see the door was already open - Clare pushed it open wider and stepped in. A bright smile lit her too perfect face and she forced herself to tone it down a bit at seeing me laying in bed, pretending as if she was upset over my condition.

Her eyes shifted to where a movement also caught my eyes. Luke had stood up upon her entrance, a true smile over his face as his eyes met Clare's. I knew that their relationship could never be fully repaired. But maybe Luke was really going to be able to get pass this. He wanted to, I saw. Just maybe, he would and his marriage would go back to how it was despite how badly she hurt him. He was desperate, wanting everything to work out. I knew he didn't fully forgive her yet. But that look on his face... it told me he might be able to. Because he really did love her.

"Hi, honey," he said, going to where she was standing by the door. Her face filled with real happiness that I don't think I really ever saw before. It was freaky.

"Hey," she said lightly as they embraced in a hug before Luke, with his arms around her, kissed her lips gently and lovingly. Yuck, yuck, yuck! That's all I can say.

Breaking away, I caught Clare's eyes as she looked to me, smiling kindly at me. She looked too nice, too professional even though I knew she just got home from work at the school. She wore a nice purple blouse along with some black slacks. Her shiny and brown curly hair was pulled back in a clip with a few strands purposefully not included near her forehead, the few curly locks falling forward around her shoulders. She was always so beautiful, physically pretty but in reality, to my eyes, looking at her made all the hatred towards her come forward in me. I saw such an ugly woman.

She approached the bed, her smile practiced to the point that it looked real. I glanced to Luke for a small moment, remembering the deal we made. He smiled sadly at me, knowing what was going through my head. That was something I liked about him. Though he doesn't think Clare does those horrible things to me, he knows that to me, they are very real.

"Aw, sweetie. How do you feel?" She asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking down at where I was laying on my side. I recalled what Luke had said about respecting her. I respected him but not her and he knew it. He knew why I couldn't. So there was only one thing I could say to show her how much I cared for her.

"Do the words 'fuck you' give you a pretty good idea as to how I'm feeling now that you are here? Or should I spell it out for you? I am P I S S E D. Not clear enough? Let's try this. M A D. Do you know what that one spells, my sweet ignorant mother?"

Clare's expression grew to complete shock - as if this sort of thing surprised her. Yet, her eyes were challenging me. Laughing and telling me it didn't affect her. She figured that if I said those nasty things to her in front of Luke, all it would do was make Luke more likely to side with her. I'm sure I was asking for a beating as well but she didn't know yet of the deal Luke and I made.

I looked to Luke and saw him give a disapproving facial expression to me. But he didn't seem too upset and it was because he knew I had a right to talk that way to someone that treated me horribly. He knew that, to me, Clare was the devil. Though this was his wife and he personally didn't think it was true, he didn't want to defend her when he knew what I was going through. He knew that I believed she beat me.

Clare stood there 'stunned' and most likely expecting Luke to jump in and say something. But he didn't and it made me bite my lip to hide a smile. "Albany...." She started, so very upset at my terribly damaging words. "Please. Please stop." She came closer and on instinct, I tensed up and flinched away as she leaned closer. That flinch unfortunately didn't stop her from running a hand through my hair. I felt my body start to shake and I tried to make it stop but it didn't. I wasn't as scared as I was before of her. But the fact that she was in this room, touching me with eyes that told me she wanted to kill me, I couldn't help it. "I'm your mom. And I love you so much darling. Why can't you see that? I would never leave a mark on you."

Trying to show I was bold and at least a little in control, I put on a fake smirk. Glancing to Luke, I saw he was watching Clare in worry, thinking she was in pain because her daughter hated her. He was worried for me because he knew that it was true for me. It was like he said before. He was on both our sides. He could see through my smirk I knew, could see I was shaken by my mother being so close to me.

Ignoring my stupid fear, I said. "You would never leave a mark? You want to take a look at my back and see just how it's not 'marked up' because of you?!" I exclaimed in her face.

I saw a little of her confidence drop at that and I knew if Luke wasn't in the room, I would get more than those marks on my back. She didn't expect me to say that because she forgot about it. It was always her word and the doctors papers against me. Words. I always had the marks and scars. Yet, not even then would anyone believe me. It always came to the conclusion from the doctors that it was self inflicted. Even now though, it still made her nervous because of Luke's idea that I wasn't insane but rather confused.

Finally, Luke said something as he approached Clare, grasping her arm lightly in comfort. But when he glanced down to me, seeing I wasn't as strong as I was trying to be, I knew by his words it wasn't just a comforting touch.

"Clare honey," he said, tugging lightly in suggestion on her arm. She looked up to him, tears in her eyes now. Aw, poor baby.... What a fucking liar. She let him lead her into a standing position a little away from me. "You are scaring her," he said quietly.

The next expression she gave off wasn't fake this time. Eyes growing in surprise that her husband would say that, would take my side after all I said, she stared at him in anger. "Excuse me? I was speaking with my daughter," she pointed out to him, like he had no right to interrupt.

"You need to understand something," he pleaded. "In her mind, this is real. You are a monster to her no matter what reality is. You can't get upset when she talks to you like that. She isn't speaking to you. She is speaking to the part of her brain that tells her you beat her. She doesn't know and can't see that she is imagining this." He paused, grasping her arms and looking deep into her wet eyes. All I could do was sit there and watch the show again. I knew the reason they didn't leave to talk was because Luke needed to keep his eye on me. But hey, that was okay at the moment. It was nice seeing him defend me - even though it wasn't entirely accurate.

"But...." Her voice broke as she glanced to where I was laying. "I want her to see that what she believes isn't true."

"Bull-fucking-shit!" I couldn't help but chime in.

They ignored what I said, not sparing me a glance. "I know," he said. "But for now, especially now that she is going through withdrawal, it would be healthy for her if you... kept your distance. Maybe, I can help her. Maybe I can help her see who you really are. But I can't do that if you are always there to provoke her--"

She cut him off, moving away from his grasp. "Provoke?!"

"Yeah, tell her daddy!" I chuckled.

Luke shot me a look that said don't even start. I glanced to Clare and saw her eyes moving to Luke, hot with outrage. I saw that it sounded bad what he said. He sighed, shaking his head. "Provoking as in your simple presence is pushing her to fight back against you. When you are around her, it gets locked in her mind that you are this monster and she acts on it."

The best thing about this was that it was as if they forgot I was here and able to hear it all. This was just as good of a distraction.

When he finished talking, I saw her purse her lips while her eyes ran over his face. It was a look that was just... different. It was one that said she cared about him. That she loved Luke and really wanted to start her life over after I ran away.

Damn. Talk about a screwed up family.

She sighed and nodded her head after a minute. Silence filled the room for a second, Luke and I looking to cry-baby Clare. As she nodded, she slowly spoke. "I--" she tried to struggle. Like she was actually having a hard time agreeing that less time seeing me would be for the best. Hell, that was the one and only thing Clare and I had in common. We wanted away from each other. "Luke, I understand. And... and I will. I--I'll back off for a while if it's for the best. If you think you can help her."

He nodded and his eyes moved to me and I was surprised as his lips slowly tilted up in a reassuring smile as if he thought he would actually be able to help me 'see clearly' that Clare was this angel that he saw her as. Good luck, buddy. I think deep down, he and I both knew that wouldn't happen. However, he did know that it was unhealthy in many forms to be around Clare and so, he was trying to help me out like he said in his deal. To keep us two from seeing each other in private. Now, he was keeping Clare and I from seeing each other at all. I could almost hug that man.

"I'll help her. When she get's through this withdrawal, we are going to have a good summer getting to know each other," he said, looking back to her. "I told you Clare. I want to make this work for us. And I want to get closer with her and help her."

Oh, you are kidding me. He just wouldn't stop the whole thing about becoming my friend and helping me. But hey, it was better than where I was now. She smiled to Luke sadly. "And that means I can't be around," she finished. That was the best part.

His eyebrows dipped in true sadness. He thought this must have been breaking Clare's heart, her not being able to see me much if I wanted to 'get better.' He stepped closer to her, lifting his hand and moving one of her free locks of hair back and behind her ear before caressing her cheek. "I'm sorry. But if you love her, I think she needs this."

She nodded and hugged him and when she did, her chin resting on his shoulder, her eyes were now on me since Luke's back was facing me. She gave me a smile, one of victory since she wouldn't have to see me and I gave a smile back, thrilled that she would be staying away from me for the most part for a while. But I couldn't help but give her a gesture that made her lips falter a little and mine grow the next second.

"Yeah, it's for the best," she concluded lightly at seeing me flip my friend, the birdy.

Throughout all of this, the whole conversation, I have been trying to grasp it all. And now that I have... I was... strangely excited.

"Yes it is!" I jumped in at her words. "Now, get out of my sight you ugly ass monster! I need time to heal!" I said in a grin. And though I received a real disappointed look from Luke, I knew he understood. No matter what I said, he couldn't blame me. And now... I was actually going to be able to relax a bit. Luke was planning on getting through the withdrawal with me - and Clare was going to stay out of my way. Of course, with my life, I expected her to find some way to get to me, to beat me. Though she loved the idea of being away from me, she still never beat me since I got home. And she would want to for me messing all this up by coming back to this town.

So yeah, she was determined to get to me somehow. But I couldn't let that bring my mood down now. Luke was going to help me - as in help me have a great summer after I get over the withdrawal. He wanted to get to know his new stepdaughter, after all. Along with that, he ensured me that I didn't need to worry about Clare 'provoking' me.

Though I really didn't want to be his friend, I guess that would be the price for... well, just being able to relax. It felt very weird, feeling excitement at the thought of a free and fun summer. I never really had fun and relaxed. Maybe, this would be good for me, like he expected.