Darke Beginnings

Prologue

Lucien Darke was brought up a child of a privileged household. He wanted for naught and was afforded anything and everything his young heart desired. He had been named Lucien because it meant “Light,” and he was the absolute light of his parents' lives, always a bright smile, dimpled cheeks, and dancing blue eyes, but he also had the worst temper, a hot side that established itself whenever he was denied something he felt was rightfully his. For the most part, this aspect of his personality was largely kept at bay by those around him catering to every whim. This coddling extended well into his adolescent years.

Everything changed in his seventeenth year of life. That summer, Lucien had been staying at his friend William's family cottage on the shores of Lake Como. The boys often went out swimming during the day and would occasionally invite some some of the girls from neighboring cottages out for a row during sunset. Of course, the girls all thought this to be terribly romantic, but the boys only had one thing on their minds.

There was a particular girl, Lucien's same age, anmed Giselle, who was staying with her family at a resort on the far side of the lake. She was beautiful, dark hair, dark eyes, olive complexion, a creature wholly different from any of the other girls, and because of this, drew the boys to her like moths to a flame, including Lucien and William.

On a dusky night in late July, one of their friends had the idea to have a bonfire on the public beach and throw a party, as kids of that age are often wont to do. William's parents had gone for the evening, invited to a black tie soiree at the resort, leaving him and Lucien to fend for themselves. Taking advantage of the situation, the boys raided the liquor cabinet and the refridgerator, arming themselves with a fifth of whiskey, some schapps and a case of beer to contribute to the night's festivities.

Darkness fell and the party was in full swing, the fire roaring, people with cups of booze or bottles of beer in hand, some dancing, some conversing around the fire. Lucien and William were of the latter group, seated on the far side, happily nursing their beers, when Giselle arrived. She glanced furtively around the crowd, her eyes seeking out a familiar face. Her gaze stopped at William and she smiled. Luicien, however was the first to stand up and greet her. “Giselle,” he grinned, “how nice it is to see you.” He ran his hand through his short sandy blond curls, turning on the charm, as he waited for her to respond.

“Oh, Lucien, hi,” she answered awkwardly, then sat down next to William in Lucien's former seat. “William!” she exclaimed, embracing him as Lucien grew red with embarassment.

A masque of rage began to form on Lucien's face and smoldering, he stomped away from the fire, grabbed a bottle of alcohol and sat down next to a tree on the outskirts of the party. He watched as everyone else enjoyed themselves, among them William and Giselle. The two kept getting progressively closer, eventually holding hands, exchanging looks, and finally, sharing a deep kiss.

All of this continued to enrage Lucien. He wanted Giselle, plain and simple, and, being someone who always got what he wanted, was prepared to get it by any means necessary. His inhibitions began to evaporate as he swigged more from the bottle, while his anger and resentment grew. Unable to control the monster inside of him any longer, Lucien rose from his spot, raged toward the place that William and Giselle cuddled, raised the now empty bottle over his head and brought it down hard on William's crown. “I wanted her, she was going to be mine!” he screamed and began pummelling William with his fists.

Giselle looked on in horror and the fight began to draw the attention of the other party goers. William tried to fight for himself, but the concussion from the bottle rendered him clumsy and uncoordinated, every swing towards Lucien missing its mark.

One of the older boys grabbed Lucien's arms and pulled the raging beast from on top of his beaten friend, trying to calm him down. “Lucien, it's not worth it,” he said, “No girl is worth that.”

Realizing that he was now sobbing, Lucien relaxed and fell in a heap to the ground. Giselle looked at him with hatred as she tried to minister as she could to William's wounds. In the distance, there were sirens. Someone had called the police and an aid car. Frightened, Lucien bolted upright and ran, barricading himself in William's cottage.