𝐏𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐤 | 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬

23. Double Leters.

T W E N T Y - T H R E E
Double Leters.

"What do you mean you're not going? You got any other plans I don't know about, because, excuse my French, you seem to have fuck all else to do!" I shout. If Ellie didn't know before, she does now. Though I think she deserves to know, she shouldn't wake up and have him just not show up. He should have to face her, look at her and tell her he's ditching, for God knows what reason.

Joel sits forward, discarding his drink on the coffee table. "Bobbie, I'm–" He starts, but it's in a voice that's supposed to be calm, but it just pisses me off more.

"Yes or no, tell me straight, are you ditching me?" I ask, getting no quick response. "It's not that fucking hard Joel."

He drags a hand over his face, taking another second to conjure up a response. "No. Tommy will go with you two, I'll... I'll be here." 

Well, that sounded mighty convincing.

"Then I'm not going. You're mental if you think I'd actually go with him no questions asked. I don't give a fuck, I don't trust him." I shake my head, terrible ideas as to how to proceed fill my mind. Shooting Joel in the foot one, dragging Ellie out and leaving right here, right now, another. But that would be awful for Ellie because I'd just end up getting her killed, maybe she'd fall off a building with me or I'd give her food poisoning so bad she vomits her organs out.

Either way, I can't be responsible for her. And I also can't trust myself to not kill Tommy. As much as I have moved past the years of hurt he caused, I'm not about to trust him any time soon.

"You need to go for Ellie," he pushes.

I'm pretty sure I want to slap him, or shoot him, or whack him over the head with that God-awful candelabra.

Throughout my life, I've come to realise that I'm someone who would go out of my way to avoid conflict. I'd throw myself under a bus before thinking of doing it to someone else. I don't care enough about dying to ruin my morality for the sake of living. That changed when I reunited with Joel and met Ellie, I'd happily die for them, with a smile on my damn face. I wasn't just surviving, floating through life without a purpose. I was living; laughing with people, eating around a fire and having people watch my back.

But, right now, all my morals have disappeared as the curtain has been drawn back. It was all a lie, if he cared he wouldn't have done this, he wouldn't have thrown in the towel once he caught a whiff of something better—more civilised.

My eyes burn, but I refuse to give in and show an ounce of sadness. He doesn't deserve my tears.

"You don't get to tell me what to do, I'm not a kid anymore." I am seething, metaphorical steam is billowing from my ears. I can't understand why everyone leaves.

Perhaps this is payback. The one time I left someone in my life was Joel, I left him to follow the person he told me was awful news.

Looking at his face, the frustration I can make out in the little fragments of warm light, I decide my next steps. No one gets to tell me what to do, not anymore, I'm sick and fucking tired of going where people tell me, and doing what people tell me to do.

My mother telling me to stay inside no matter what.

Tommy telling me to come with him.

Joel telling me my every move, each second of every day dictated by him.

Ryan telling me to follow him, telling me Joel hated me, telling me to fix the mistakes.

Marlene telling me to leave on what has become a suicide mission.