AN: Here comes the drama!
Luke walked in at Eleven that night. I was just sitting on the couch, thinking about what I was going to say to him. He was surprisingly sober.
He dropped his bags at the door when he noticed my face, "Is everything alright?" He asked with concern. Then he came and sat next to me.
"Luke…," I said, pausing, "I just…I think…"
Then I gathered my inner Jade-ness, and said, "I don't want to be with you anymore."
He looked hurt , as he said, "What?"
I might have been a little harsh. Then he got up, and went in the kitchen. I heard him open the fridge, grab a beer, and then take a big long sip.
I used that moment to go to the bedroom, and go to sleep.
I woke up again to a loud crash. I sat up, and squinted my eyes, looking at the clock. It was two-thirty in the morning. I got up, and went into the living room. That moment, Luke came out of nowhere, and knocked me down I felt something sharp in the back of my arm, and I realized that Luke had knocked over a glass vase, and I had just fell into it.
I looked up at Luke. I could tell by the look on his face, that he was now drunk.
"You can't leave me!" Luke yelled, angrily.
I managed to get up, getting a few glass fragments in my hand in the process, and then I pushed Luke away, with my good hand, "Back off, Asshole!" I said.
Then I made my way to the kitchen to bandage my hand up, with Luke right on my tail. He grabbed hold of my arms, and pushed me against the wall. I managed to punch him back, and he slapped me, and grabbed me by my hair, and pulled me down, and then kicked me in the stomach.
I managed to get back up, in a ton of pain. I grabbed my keys of the counter, and hurriedly made my way to my car, and then drove to Becks. Here I was, three in the morning, with no shoes on. I was only wearing my underwear, and a black cami. I knocked on his door.
It was a repeat of last time. He came to the door, rubbing his eyes, and his eyes widened when he saw what a mess I was in. I sat on his couch again, and he grabbed his first aid kit, and started to patch me up again, all without saying a word.
"Well, I told him," I said, adding a small, fake laugh, after he was done, and we were just sitting there. That laugh turned into tears for god knows what. I always turned so weak in front of Beck, I hated it.
He just put his arm around me, and I put my face on his chest and cried.
