Pinky

Im I dark enough yet?

I woke up, startled. There was tall figure standing in the door way. I felt weak and sick. I tried to wake Luke up, but he wouldn't budge.
"Luke! Luke! Please! Please Luke wake up! Luke!" I screamed.
The figure was coming closer to me, and I stood up to run. Before I could reach the stairway, another figure had grabbed me from behind. I was thrown to the floor and beaten by my own father and his friend. I shouted for luke, but he wouldn't wake up.

"Luke!" I sat up from my awful nightmare. I was out of breath trying to calm my self down. I felt like I was going to be sick.

"Becca, shh, it was just a nightmare, shh" Luke tried to comfort me. I knew better than to believe him. I knew that it wasn't a nightmare. It was a memory.
When I was only seven my brothers had a close friend named Luke. We were all staying the night. Luke had offered to sleep with me that night. His father and my father were close friends. They would go out and get drunk and come home to us. Luke wouldn't wake up. I never knew why. He was a very light sleeper. I never spoke to him again. Not because I was mad at him, but because I was scared of his father. His father was way more abusive than my father ever was.

"Becca! Come down stairs food is ready!" Luke shouted from the kitchen. I sighed and walked down stairs. The whole house was filled with the scent of waffles.
    "I'm coming!" I yelled. I ran down stairs and into the kitchen. I grabbed a plate and fork and fixed my meal. I sat down at the table and happily began to eat. 
"I'll go up stairs and eat in the room, ok?" Luke said, as he walked away.
When I finished eating, I sat in front of the tv. I didn't turn it on or anything, I just kinda sat there. I decided to find the bathroom. I couldn't fine anything down stairs, so I headed up stairs. As I walked past likes room, I heard someone crying... What in the world??
I thought.
  I opened the door to see Luke holding a guy maybe 19 or 20, by the hair. He was tall and looked weak. He was bent on his knees holding on to his stomach. His sea blue eyes had turned red
From all the crying he had done.
"Becca! Get out!" Luke shouted at me as he pointed a finger at the door. I didn't move, instead I stood in shock.
"What the hell are you doing, Luke!" I shouted back.
"Becca, I'll explain later, just get out!"
I ran out the room, slamming the door and down stairs. I looked everywhere for a phone. This guy has to have a phone! I ran back up stairs and opened the first few doors. They were... Bedrooms... They looked like they were for guys. But, who? I could hear someone in the second bedroom. I slowly opened it and could tell that they were in the shower. I finally found a phone on the bed. I grabbed it, and quietly walked out. I went to the kitchen and started to dial 911. Before I could dial the last digit, someone grabbed my arm and ripped the phone out of my hand. Luke, had slammed it against the table and dragged me up stairs to his bedroom. The guy wasn't there anymore, so it was just me and Luke.
"What the hell were you doing with his phone!" Luke yelled, still holding my wrist. I didn't answer him, all I did was look away.
"Becca, look at me when I'm talking!" He turned my head to face him.
"What were you doing!" He yelled, getting closer to my face.
I still didn't answer. He finally just pushed me on the bed and walked out.

I cried the rest of the day. That was the last time he came in. I needed to get out of here. Who was that guy that was in here? Where did he go? And why was Luke so...bipolar? I laid on the bed and silently cried. I was looking into the bathroom and remembered that I was looking for it. I sat up, and made my way to the sink. I just stared at myself in the mirror. My eyes were all red and puffy, and my hair was a mess. I sniffed and looked over at the bed.
No no no no..I can't....could I? I was trying to fight the urge to pick up the glass.  But I had lost. I lifted up the mattress and picked up the glass. I rubbed my thumb against its sharp edges. I sat on the bed, and held up the glass against my wrist. I pressed hard until I drew blood. Then i drew a line on my wrist. I winced in the pain that I felt, but I still loved it. I still loved the fact that I was in control of something. I loved the feeling of the blood flowing down my wrist. I
Smiled through the pain.