Deliver Me To Evil

Luke. AKA: Dead Meat

About an hour later I hear the door open and close. Then my mom yelling, "Where the hell have you been?!" Then them arguing for about twenty minutes. Then my dad finally jumping in. Then another twenty minutes and my brother Luke storms into my room and plops down on my bed.

"Rough night?" I joke. He glares at me and turns his head. "But, really, Luke, what's up with you? Sneaking out? Partying? Skipping school? This isn't you... You're the good one, remember?"

"Yeah, well, maybe i'm tired of everyone's expectations. Why can't I lash out every once in a while? I'm always at the top of my game and everyone still wants me to be better. But when I go bad for a few minutes everyone loses their shit? As if it affects them? God, it's ridiculous!" My brother steams. Almost literally.

"It's been going on for a while, though. almost every night you have snuck out... I don't know. Whatever.... Hey, um... did you notice anything weird about Dad?" 

He looks at me, thinking. "Well he didn't really yell at me. Like, at all really, I thought it would be much worse. He just said, that I shouldn't be misbehaving and all. It's weird, though, the way he looked at me. Almost as if he were proud or something."

"Hmm..." I sigh, thinking. "Well, how was the party?" I ask. Luke looks up at me and smiles.

 "Crazy"

                                                                                   X X X X

 The next morning, Luke is asleep on my floor. I look at his form under the blanket. He is so different to me in so many ways, despite being my brother. He is big and muscular, like a bull. His long red hair is darker than mine is. His is like fire, while mine is more like a light pumpkin. He and I never understood why our hair is red while our mother's  is blonde and our father's brown. We would always joke that we were both switched at birth,  especially because our eyes are green. Though we never told our parents that. They are really touchy on the subject. My brother is only a year older than I am, yet he is so much more put together and mature. I'm usually always the one getting into trouble, with my bad grades and skipping classes. Luke is the good one. He has had straight A's since sixth grade and never missed a day of school, even when he was sick. We are pretty close, and we look out for each other. He has changed so much this past year, though. I'm not sure I know who he is anymore.

   I lean over him and put my mouth close to his ear. "Luke," I whisper. "Luke, wake up. We're gonna be late." He didn't stir. "Luke!" He jumps up, almost headbutting me in the process.

"What?" He asks groggily. "Hmm? What time is it?" I look at the red numbers on my digital clock. "6:37" I answer. "We're gonna be late. I call shower first.

"Oh hell, no," Luke says as we fight to the door, laughing. I reach the door, but Luke pulls me back by my arm, and I turn and punch him in the gut. He doubles over. I run out the door and to the bathroom. I turn and stick my tongue out as he groans and flips me the bird. I smile and lock the door. "Hurry up!" Luke yells. I start the shower and turn the water hot as it can go. The hot water runs out fast.

                                                                       X X X X

After I shower, I wrap a towel around my body, and one on my hair and open the door. My brother is sitting on the floor across from the bathroom with his clothes in his lap, aparrently asleep.

 "Hey, " I kick him in the leg and he jumps. "Nothing better to do?"

"Shuddup," He yawns as I pass him to my room.

By the time I am dressed and my hair is dry, Luke is sitting at the dining table. I grab a mug and pour some coffee into it, grab a slice of toast, and join him.

 "What's up, butter cup?" I say, "how was the shower?" He glares at me over his cereal. "Cold." I smile and pat his hand. "You shoulda gone first, then." Luke rolls his eyes.

 "Mornin,"Dad mumbles as he stumbles into the kitchen and opens the fridge. Lukes eyes open wide and he slaps my arm. I follow his gaze to my father's bare back, where a jagged, long, puffy scar is clearly visible. My jaw drops. I jump out of my seat and rush to my dad. "Daddy, what happened," I ask as I gently touch the angry scar. My dad whirls around and grabs my hand hard, his face full of fury, and I cry out. Luke jumps up and takes my hand from my dad's grip. He pushes me behind him. My dad looks from me to Luke and back to me again, and his face softens into sorrow, no doubt from the shock and fear registered on mine.  "I'm sorry, Bix, I don't know what- you just startled me is all. I-" He moved to hold me, but Luke blocked him. "Luke," Dad said, "Move." Luke did move, but not away from me. He turned and guided me back to my room, not taking his tense stare from my father until we got to the hallway. He pushed me into my room and closed the door. He grabbed me by my shoulders and hunched down to eye level. "Are you okay?" I nod. Luke straightens up.

"What the hell was that? He has never done anything like that before," I say.  Luke shakes his head.

 "I don't know, but we need to be careful. Dad's not acting himself. Probably has something to do with that scar on his back..." Luke trails off, for a moment lost in thought. "Be ready in ten minutes. I'll take you to school."

 Fifteen minutes later, I am in Luke's car, heading to school.

 "I don't understand, what do you mean he isn't dad? Like, sure something is weird, but he is probably just sick in the head. That doesn't mean he is a different person altogether, Luke," I say.

 "Well, Bill, one, dad didn't have that scar on his back when he left. Two, he sure as hell would have normally gotten beyond pissed that I snuck out, no matter how long he has been gone. Three, he said..." Luke stops in the middle of his statement.

 "What?" I question. "What, Luke, what did he say?" I try to meet his eyes.

 "Dad told me something last night. You were asleep, already. I had gone to the kitchen to get a drink of water. Dad was in the living room. He, like, interrogated me for being out of bed. Asked me if I was trying to sneak out again, what I was doing, why was I awake, yada, yada. Well I told him I was just going to get water and he started saying stuff, like, 'You aren't gonna be sneaking out anymore, not while i'm around', and 'Shit's gonna change around here now.' I barely listened, but after I drank some water I said "goodnight, dad,' and he said, 'I ain't your damned daddy.' and he started, like, chuckling. It was really creepy. That's why I went back to your room, I didn't really want to be alone."'

 I took the rest of the drive to absorb what Luke had just told me. Something was definitely wrong with my father. He isn't the type to get angry for nothing, and he isn't usually jumpy.  He has never cussed once since I could remember, and he has done so numerous times since he got home. My dad prided himself on how high he holds his family above all else, and suddenly he is disowning Luke, his favorite child? No, something is wrong, and I am going to find out what, no matter the cost.