Implicate

/ˈimpləˌkāt/

verb

convey (a meaning or intention) indirectly through what one says, rather than stating it explicitly

Luke's POV

-----------------------------------

I couldn't even fully begin to explain my thought process behind letting Melissa go. I could tell you it was for her benefit, but beyond that I couldn't let you know what exactly I thought to let her go so suddenly and without warning. I couldn't hurt her and that was the only thing I knew for sure.

To be honest, I was scared. I was scared to put my heart in her hands and to trust her not to break it. I was scared I wouldn't be enough for her. I was scared I wouldn't be able to protect her. I was scared I wouldn't be there when she needs me to be. I was scared for the commitment that I knew came with a relationship. I was scared to say that she controlled so much of me that at any time, if she needs me, I would be there for her.

But at the same time, I couldn't let the best thing that I had ever experienced walk out of my life. I couldn't let this beautiful woman walk away because I didn't have the guts to call her mine, or allow her think that the amount of feelings I had for her had changed just because I couldn't promise her that I would always be there.

My heart was breaking and I couldn't stop it. But what hurt more than that was that I knew she was going through the same exact thing and doubting how I felt about her. It was physically breaking me apart to know that the one person I didn't want to hurt was in pain because I was trying to save her all of this heartache. It was killing me inside to know that I was breaking her heart when all I was trying to do was protect it.

And at that point, I knew she hated me. She hated me because she thought everything I ever said to her was a lie. And she hated me because she thought that I was using her innocence to take what I wanted, when I truly did care for her.

"Did you tell her?" Ashton asked me from my bed as I walked into my room.

"Yea," I nodded my head, throwing my hands behind my head and sighing out a deep breath.

Ashton tilted his head to the side before letting out a sigh and patting the spot beside him. I looked at him for a moment before coming and taking the seat beside him.

"Do you think you did the right thing?" he asked lightly, curiosity in his voice and not a hint of malice or anger.

"I don't know," I stated honestly. "I broke her. Her eyes told me that much," I confessed as I let out another deep breath, staring at the floor in front of me. The grey concrete was inviting as it matched my current mood and made me long for forgetfulness of this complex situation. "But I feel like protecting her is more important than my feelings right now."

"But is it more important than her feelings?" he reasoned, considering all points of view.

"What?" I asked, my head shooting up from its previous position to look at the person I came to view as not only an older brother, but a mentor in life.

"Her feelings. You said if you looked into her eyes that she looked broken." I nodded at his statement, nonverbally saying that it was true. "Is it worth it to you that you may lose her forever just because you want to save her from yourself?"

My head tilted slightly at his point, breaths coming from my mouth as I contemplated what he was offering up as an excuse. Everything inside of me screamed that this was my chance to get her back, and my heart seemed to tell my brain to allow the love to grow, despite the protest of my center of logic.

"Ashton you know that all I will do is hurt her. Everyone I've ever loved is dead. What does that tell you?" I asked him, tears filling my eyes and my voice cracking.

"That you blame yourself too much," he stated simply. He leaned back on the bed as he relaxed into the soft mattress, still keeping eye contact as the guilt rose within me.

"Seriously," I glared at him, staring him dead in the eyes, "I'm a walking bomb."

He raised his eyebrows at me to continue.

"I told her that too. I told her that I'm a time bomb. And that I need to avoid exploding on her because when I finally do, it won't be pretty and I can't protect her from that." I looked over at Ashton who was sitting there with an empty expression on his face. "I need to keep her away from me so she isn't in the blow zone when the time finally comes that I explode."

Ashton was quiet for quite sometime, leaning back against the cement wall with his arms behind his head.

"Have you ever wondered if Riley would be effected by you doing that to her?" I asked, trying to prove my point to him.

His eyes closed momentarily until he fluttered them open again, looking over at me.

"All the time. I wonder if she will ever trust anyone other than me and you guys enough to let them in and get a boyfriend. I wonder if our parents dying when she was so young will emotionally scar her so much that she won't want any kids. I wonder if she will even go outside the colony sometimes because she has learned to fear the outside so much. And I wonder if she will ever unsee our parents' dead bodies in front of her," he explained, tears welling up in his eyes.

I took a deep breath, having heard the story a million times but still catching my breath each time told. There was not an ounce of me that did not respect Ashton for raising his younger sister; however, I knew that when I asked my question, his answer would be a resounding yes.

"If you could take that back, would you? If you can make the world perfect for her to live in, would you? Would you protect her if you could?" I inquired, trying to prove my point.

"No," he stated simply, causing my jaw to fly open in disbelief.

"No?" I asked again, surprise evident in my response.

"No. Because I don't know what she would be like without all those things. Those memories, however brutal, are what makes Riley herself. She wouldn't be the type of person she is now if those cruel things didn't happen to her, and I think she is exactly who our parents would want her to be. At least, I hope they would be proud of what she has become."

"So if you had the chance to go back through your teenage years without taking on the role of a mom and dad, you wouldn't?" I looked at him, still in utter disbelief from what he was saying to me. His words made me question my actions to a new level, believing that I was a bit extreme in my reaction to Melissa's protection.

"Of course I would. But that wasn't your question. Your question was if I would protect Riley and keep her from living in a world like this if I had the option, and the answer to that question is no."

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused as to how the two could be different answers. My mind didn't process his words, causing questions to arise and plead for an answer.

"But what's the big difference between those two questions?" I asked, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration.

"The first question was about changing Riley's life. The second was about changing mine. I wouldn't change Riley's life ever because only she should decide to change the events that shaped her life," he spoke wisely, shrugging his shoulders as if it were nothing new to him.

"So I was wrong to try and protect Melissa?" I asked, guilt weighing down on me now more than ever.

"I'm not saying that. I'm saying that it should've been Melissa's choice to let go or not," he said, rising from his relaxed position to his feet and heading towards the door to leave. "And Luke?" he spoke, grabbing my attention immediately.

"Yea," I rushed out, eagerly wanting the information and knowledge that he held within him.

"It's not too late to tell her how you really feel." With that he walked out the door and left me to my own thoughts.

Melissa's POV

--------------------------------

I'll be the first to admit that it hurt. It hurt way more than the injury even. It was like a knife being wedged into my heart and just when I was about to pull it out, something stopped me. It was like crying so loud but no one hearing a thing.

The feeling was so hard to describe yet so easy at the same time. It was like drowning; water filling your lungs slowly and then getting resuscitated only to be thrown back into the waves to have your lungs refill and the cycle continue. And seeing him was like breaking open a wound. The pain hurt so much, but in the end it was so addictive that you just wanted to do it again and again. You wanted to feel that pain because it was better than feeling nothing at all and sitting by yourself feeling numb.

It was like losing your sight. You knew you would learn to adapt. You would gain better hearing and your sense of touch and smell would also adapt, but you would never be the same again. Even if you did get your sight back, you would still have those adaptations as scars to remind you of those times when you were utterly hopeless and no one came to your aid.

You would still remember the time without him like a wine stain on a dress, a scar on your knee, or the sound of your parents voice when you were being taken away.

His words would echo in your mind, and the promises would never fade as you would recount every single thing he used to say and how he tore up your heart and the love story that could have been written.

And now all that was left for me to wonder was, why?

Why would he say all those things if he knew that someday he would be eating his words and killing me? Why would he act like prince charming if really he was the evil villain? Why would he lie about his intentions when he could have been honest in the beginning? Why would he try and play off a "break up" as a way to prove how much he "cares about you?"

"Okay, your vitals are looking good. You're free to go whenever you want Melissa," the nurse said with a smile before writing information on a clipboard and leaving the room.

I took a deep breath, letting all of the thoughts I had release from my bloodstream with the carbon dioxide and taking in fresh oxygen before swinging my legs over the bed and standing up to leave.

My travel down the hallway was anything but exciting until I reached the kids hallway right beside the Core's rooms. Right as I was passing, a familiar brunette young girl popped her head out of her room and after shouting my name once, ran toward me with open arms, ready to be picked up and held.

"Hey there Riley," I spoke enthusiastically despite my internal struggle for happiness.

"I missed you Lissa!!" she shouted loudly into my ear as her brown curls tossed around in her ponytail. Her tiny hands reached to play with my blonde hair as I continued holding her in my arms, trying not to think of the throbbing coming from my swollen hand.

"I'm headed to my room. Did you want to come with me?" I offered in a high voice that I always used when I was around kids, regardless of their age.

"Yea!! I love your room because you're right next to Ashy," she said, giggling at herself as we began walking to my quarters.

"I do live by him. Do you wanna visit him before we go back to my room?" I asked, looking down at her tiny body resting on my hip as her arms cling to my neck.

"Yes, please!!!" she excitedly exclaimed. Her innocence brought me a bit of peace as I walked down the hall trying to incorporate it into my life; however, I found myself just falling into a more depressed state as I realized I may have been already jaded beyond repair.

"Since you were so polite, I guess we can," I told her, heading straight to Ashton's room.

"Yay!" she clapped happily after detaching her somewhat pudgy arms from around my neck, causing me to laugh and continue on through the emotional turmoil brewing inside of me.

Edited 17 November 2016