Flesh and Blood

Chapter 20 - Congrats! You're Officially a Loser!

At the end of every day over the past month, Luke found himself sitting by the window, bored, lonely, and waiting for the possible, "Lu-key, I'm ho-ome!"

He almost laughed at the idea of it, of himself being the bored housewife, stuck at home, trapped with his own thoughts, waiting longingly for his husband to return home from work. But once Luke realized that the dull moments of the day were beginning to stretch out into minutes, then hours, then days, he considered that maybe he really was becoming a bored housewife in a dysfunctional nuclear family.

Except he rarely cooked any meals or did any house-making chores. Damien never came home after a long day of work and greeted him with a kiss. And Helen may have the mentality of a child, but she could hardly be considered one.

Maybe they weren't the kind of family Luke was thinking of. Maybe domesticity didn't suit them very well. Luke wished that they hadn't settled down, but then he realized that the pre-domesticity, motel-hopping ages weren't very pleasant for them either.

So when were things "pleasant?" When was the last time they were happy together? Pre-shit-hitting-the-fan-ages. Before Luke realized what Damien really was and everything turned to shit. It seemed like a good idea to stick with Damien then. It seemed like an even greater idea to let Helen tag along too. How fucking stupid was that.

But Luke had long passed the point where he could complain about his stupid decisions. All he could do now was wait, wait until something happened, wait until another opportunity came along, wait until he finally made a smart decision.

***

Luke didn't have to wait very long. He was ready for another long, boring week of sitting and waiting. But one morning, he noticed that there was something off about Damien and he could no longer sit in blissful ignorance while Damien lived his life in secrecy.

"What's going on?"

"What?" Damien paused what he was doing in the kitchen and tilted his head towards Luke but never bothered looking at him.

"What's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

Luke watched him carefully, taking note of the lack of eye contact, the one-word responses. Those were all very characteristic of Damien, but also very off. There weren't tense movements or guilty frowns, just relaxed movements and bored expressions. Damien wasn't acting awkward or uncomfortable or guilty . . . just annoyed. And as Luke watched Damien reach for a knife to cut his food, it quickly dawned on Luke why Damien would be annoyed, particularly why he would be annoyed with Luke's questions.

Luke exhaled a heavy sigh and then asked, "Did you kill someone again?"

Damien set down the knife and stared directly at Luke, clearly annoyed. "Do you really want an answer? Because the last time I answered this question—actually, no—the last few times I answered this question, you got upset with me."

Luke rolled his eyes. "How stupid do you think I am? Just answer my question."

"Alright, fine. I did."

Luke wanted to feel angry, but Damien had completely ruined his anger threshold. "Why do you keep doing this?" he eventually asked.

"Why do I, a sadistic serial killer, keep killing people?"

"Yes, I know you're a fucking sadistic, psychopathic serial killer. You never fail to fucking mention that in every conversation we've ever had."

"Then why do you keep asking?"