Save Me

Chapter 4: He's Changing

Meanwhile... Erika

"Get in the damn closet and don't ask questions!" I whisper-shouted, shoving Lucas near the closet. He went in and I tossed all his stuff in his general vicinity. I closed the door behind him and put my back against it, breathing deeply.

It's going to be okay.

Knock knock. I gave the room one last sweep and double-checked for anything that was out of place.

Alright, show time.

I backed away from the door and went out of my room into the hallway. I walked down the staircase to my living room to where my dad was talking on the phone. Right when I walked into the room, he said good-bye to whoever he was talking to.

"Hello, Erika."

"Hello, dad," I replied, as genially as possible.

Please don't tell me you noticed the noise upstairs.

"What was all that racket about in your room?" He asked, looking straight at me.

He probably knew I was hiding something, or at least figured I was. Even before giving me a chance to explain, he always assumed so.

"Oh, I knocked over some of my textbooks?" He still looked at me suspiciously.

"I know you're lying but I'm going to ignore that because I am in a good mood. Isobel called back today for dinner. So I have to leave in a few minutes. I just came here to put on my contacts." He went up the stairs and I followed him into his bedroom.

It was a large room with grey walls and brown furniture. His large bed was pushed against the bed opposite the door and on either side were two floor to ceiling windows. He moved to the left were his dresser was. On it was a simple mirror and some of the colognes he wore. Next to all of those were his contact lenses.

He removed his thick, dark frames and put them to the side. He was practically blind without his glasses.

"Now Erika, can you pass me the container?" I handed it to him and he felt around. It was pretty funny; I almost laughed. When he had them on comfortably, he combed through his hair with his fingers.

"How do I look?" Was he genuinely asking a question?

"Uh yeah, you look great."

"Good. This is very important." And with that, he left the room. I put his glasses next to his bed and sat down on his bed for a second.
This is not my dad. He was usually monotone, serious, confident. This was the first time I've ever seen him actually nervous. So much so that he asked for my opinion? I stood up. No use thinking about it now.

I walked back into the hallway and in the direction of my room. I hope Lucas didn't do anything stupid. When I got to the closet, I knocked. No answer. I just let myself in. And I did not like the sight in front of me.

Lucas Perry was in my guitar trunk.

I was frozen. I didn't know what to do, what to say.

"What the fuck are you doing?!?"

He turned around with my guitar still in his hand. He stood up with it still in his hand.

"Erika.."

"Why are you going through my stuff?" I yelled, challenging him.

"I just saw.."

"You saw what? A trunk of my private things and decided, 'Hey let's go through Erika's private things.'"

It was silent in the closet. Neither of us said anything. Neither of us moved. All we did was stare at each other. I couldn't see much of him in the dark closet. The only light coming in was from the cracked door and even with that I could only make it the lines of his nose, mouth and ears. And his grey eyes. I glared back at them.

"I was going to give you answers. I thought I could've trusted you but with what you did, I don't think I can."

He hung his head down.

"I want you to get your stuff and get the hell out of my house."

"Erika.."

"Get the fuck out of my house!"

I didn't look at him as he packed up his stuff. I just stared at the trunk. I heard him gather up his stuff and put his book bag on his back. I felt his gaze at my back before he left the closet. I still stood there for a few more moments until I heard the front door close.

I sat on the ground, putting my head in my hands. I was angry. At everything. I was angry at Lucas. But I was more angry at myself. I forgot that I had put the trunk in my closet. I forgot to relock it last night.

You're such a fucking idiot, Erika. That's your own dumbass fault.

I don't know how long I've been sitting here. I got out of my brief period of self wallowing and finished packing the stuff he took out. I picked up the guitar. I put it pack in the case along with everything else. I closed and locked it.

Good fucking job, Erika.