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If you were to ask people who Carrie Wilson was, majority would call her a stuck up. Perfect face, perfect hair, perfect smile, perfect body. Prime and pristine. Nobody could see that flaws that dug underneath her.
Carrie always saw a flaw in the mirror. Body shape is just wrong, wrong, wrong. Staring down at the stretch mark scattered across her thighs. Bumps freckled across her arms feel staring back asking for death.
The sun was meeting the waves, echoes of waves crashing against one another. Laying against the large and fairly rotten wood log, failing to compose herself to a fresh emotional breakdown. Carrie scrubbed at her face so it would stop. Just fucking stop.
Without warning, a hand, waving frantically in her face.
“Carrie?”
No reply, Carrie only focused on the burning sensation from the nails dragging down her arms. She finally looked him in the face. Immediately regretting going to the only place without Iris silently judging Carrie’s every move. Of course it had to be Mr. sleeves don’t exist. Luke fucking Patterson.
“Stop that, you’re gonna make yourself bleed.” Luke’s voice wavers. She picks up bits and pieces of his voice. Only aware of the buzzing from waves clashing to override one another.
“What?”
Luke takes capture of her hands and inspects the claw marks along her skin. Dead skin clumps near her elbows, tiny red dots dotted across along untouched bumps. Carrie props one knee closer and hugs an arm around it, avoiding Luke’s concerned expressions. Looking off into the sunsets with hues of orange and purple.
A beat passes, then two, the question waiting for the arrival of its answer. Carrie finally avoids the sun setting in their view and stares into Luke’s blue eyes, searching for his answer.
“Are you gonna leave me alone or take pity for me?” Carrie question the boy who lived and breathed music.
Instead he slumps on the edge of the log, feet tapping against the wood creating a beat. Carrie assumes that is gonna be a long conversation. Best to leave while there’s a chance.
Luke scrambles towards Carrie spas she attempted to leave. He takes hold of her wrist, causing her to face in with utter shock. Her honey glass eyes flash confusion as he pulls in her, arms wrapped around her tense body.
The dam breaks, the walls become destroyed and drop. Carrie is crying before she can comprehend what is happening. Ears ringing along side echos of cracked sobs and shushing noises so she knows that he’s there and he is real.
“‘m sorry,” Carrie croaked.
“ What? You don’t have to be sorry, Carrie.” Luke pulled her back by the shoulders, searching for something, anything. Luke looks through the honey eyes attempting to see what’s going on in her head. And then, it clicks.
“You do know you are beautiful right?”
“You think I’m pretty, others see me as beautiful.” Carrie mutters, never meeting his eyes.
“Carrie...” Luke trails off, unsure how to start the conversation. Luke has never been good with emotions, usually avoiding them and forgetting problems all together.
Carrie slips back down into the dusty sand. Crisscrossed, digging and dragging the sand into piles with sand getting stuck under her nails. She knows how others see her, knows how Iris saw her. But Carrie hasn’t seen it that way. Always something looking wrong, wrong, wrong.
Luke slumps next to her, hesitant if she still wanted company. Carrie lifts her hand from the sand and dusts off the remains. She wiggles her fingers, palm up. He takes her hand and squeeze. Hand squeezes back. It becomes game, to know that they are and will not be leaving.
So, Carrie talks. On and on and on and on. Continues until there is nothing left. All the walls coming down. Crashing and burning within each other. The door with one key finally gets unlocked and looked from within. Luke just listens, not a peep out of him. Normally Luke is always talking, about something, anything. But he’s just quiet. It’s nice for a change, to be listened to.
Instead of yelled at.
To be the better person.
Look like Barbie.
Being Little Miss Perfect, most popular girl in school.
“You know, you don’t need to look like a plastic doll, right?” Luke interrogates her long after the sun disappeared and star started twinkling in the sky.
“ I guess, Iris use to compare me to people on magazines.”
“ Well, fuck Iris,” Luke says as he wraps one arm around her. “She’s a dumb bitch.” He mutters under his breath.
They stay like that for awhile. Listening to birds passing diving lower and lower for their prey. Waves getting louder and become calming background noise. Street lights flickering on, orange and white hues spreading down the boardwalk to the pier.
It’s a nice feeling to know that somebody cared. After everyone has either left your pushed away. Luke was there, even in the darkest of corners. Even though it’s probably a one time thing, hope still rings through Carrie’s body that he would be back.
And if Luke checks that same dead wood log everyday, that is nobody’s business.