Nightmare // Luke Brooks

one

Chapter one

Lukes POV

"Luke honey, think about what you are doing," My mother hesitates. I glance over to her giving flashing one of my famous glares.

"You really want this fuck head alive?" I bit back quite harshly.

"Don't speak like that Luke. Hey may be just as screwed up as you are but he is still your father!" Her fragile voice shakes.

"Look son I-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, NO ONE ASKED YOU TO SPEAK," I scream pointing the firmly held object at my so called father.

"NOO LUKE DON'T, PLEASE DONT" My mother yells, with glistening tears streaming down the sides of her cheek.

"Oh but mummy, we will be happy once he is gone, I promise you," a small smirk appears on my lips.

Her sobs sound of pure and utter pain. She cried as if she contained rage and was desperate of a release.

"How did I let you get so out of control, what did I ever do wrong?" She sobs.

"I'm not out of control mummy, I JUST WANT THIS FUCK HEAD DEAD!"

A dark laugh leaves my lips as I focus my attention on the gun I was tightly holding in my hand. I loved the feel of this gun in my hands, the snug fit and perfect balance gave me power. I had customised it to suit my own needs. I curl my fingers around the trigger and smile timidly.

"Goodnight dad."

I watch as my own father falls to the flood while crimson red blood pours out of him making a slight puddle.

"N-no, Luke what have you done?" My mothers shaken figure grabs his body and holds him in her arms.

"The bastard didn't deserve the life he lived anyway," I chuckle.

I grab a cloth and clean my prints off of the gun, just to be overly safe . I kneel down and twirl my mothers brown locks in between my fingers.

"Get away from me, you're mental. He told me you needed help but I didn't listen," She cries, her eyes swollen and puffy. Anger fills up my insides like a burning flame and my fingers twitch. I could very much see the hurt displayed on her features.

"I'm not done with you mummy."

I place my hand on her cheek and stroke her face softly. She pushes my arm away and unexpectedly spits in my face.

"Don't touch me." She growls, warning me to back away.

I wipe the spit off on my t-shirt and reach for her head, I grab hair and slam her forehead against the wall, not too hard but just hard enough to make her unconscious.

I laugh to myself enjoying the little scene I had created. I would always wonder why the fuck messing around with people made me happy. The joy of making people suffer made me happy, it was like a crazy addiction. You might think I'm crazy, but I'm not. I'm just different, unique maybe. I place the cloth around the gun so my fingerprints or any other evidence would show. I point the gun to my left leg and with shakes hands pull the trigger for the second time. My breath hitches and I hold back on the agonising pain shooting up my thigh. I wobble over to my mum, knocking a few picture frames in the process, where she lays unconscious. I place the gun in between her fingers, making sure to not leave my prints on it while doing so.

I hold my leg in pain grabbing my phone out of my pocket to dial triple zero.

"Hello triple zero how may we help you with your emergency today?" I put my acting skills to the test.