It's a Nightmare

Prologue

Lucas

I was in the living room, finishing up the last of my homework. Father was at the bar. He wouldn't be home yet. I still had time to sit here.

Then I heard the door slam loudly. Fearing my Fathers severely drunken state, I stretched myself over my brother, who was sleeping in the baby cradle.

Whenever he came home from the bar, he was always angry. I hated when Father came home from the bar.

"Before I left, didn't I tell you to go to your room?" Father roared. "Why do you disobey me like this?"

I felt a hard punch to my side. Then a kick to my legs. Then a hard slap across my face. I stumbled, falling away from the baby cradle and onto the floor.

I struggled to get up; I needed to protect my little brother. He was only a year old. He couldn't protect himself against the wrath of our father. I was the only one left who could protect him.

"You worthless, useless, good-for-nothing, despicable, weak excuse for a human being. I wish that you'd never been born. I should've kicked you out of my house the second I first saw you. You should bless my big heart that I kept you and your little brother in my house."

He said stuff like that all the time. I was worthless. I was useless. I was good-for-nothing, despicable and weak. Father loved to remind me.

"Stay away from the cradle." He ordered. "I'm not cruel enough to hurt a baby."

Father started to hit and kick me even harder, until I could hardly stand it. He had never hit me this hard ever before, no matter how angry he was. Bruises were going to be very prominent tomorrow.

I immediately started planning out excuses for the bruises, if anyone saw them. I also started going through what I had that could cover them up. I didn't want the dirty looks, the awkward questions. I didn't want the bullies at school to have any more things to use on me. They already had so much.

A long sleeve sweater and thick jeans was probably going to be tomorrow's wardrobe. The bullies loved to pick on me for my outfit choices, especially when I wore dark colours to hide any blood stains that could peek out.

Suddenly, the beating stopped. I waited a moment, waited for Father to start again-or to do something, but nothing happened.

I heard faint noises- voices maybe?- coming from the front hallway. Scooping up my crying brother- I guess Father had scared him- I headed towards the location of the noise.

There, I found Father talking to someone. He was blocking the doorway, so I couldn't make out who he was talking to. My father was a big guy. He played college football and he worked as a personal trainer. He had muscles to show for it.

I leaned in closer, trying to hear a bit of the conversation.

"Are you ready to do this?" I heard Father mumble.

"Um..." A slightly feminine voice came from the doorway. Who was there? Why were they there? "I guess so, but I just came by to drop homework off for Lucas."

"Good enough." In one swift move, Father turned, elbowing me in the face, and snatched my brother from my arms and turned back around.

"No!" I screamed, struggling to reach my brother.

"This will be better for him. Step back." My Father replied stubbornly. He handed my still-screaming brother to the person standing in the doorway.

"Now get out of here. Keep the work. Lucas is too stupid to do it." The door slammed shut.

Father turned towards me, an evil smirk gracing his lips. "As for you... Well, you should work on quieting your footsteps. I heard you walking here. You sound like an elephant. God, you need to lose weight."

He pulled something out from his pocket. I caught a glimpse of silver.

I tensed. Fathers pocket knife. Oh shoot.

He came towards me, smirking horribly. The switchblade gleamed menacingly, almost taunting me.

Father brought the blade down once...twice...three times.