Reaper's Lullaby

Lucas: Going Home

"You can hide from the devil, but he'll always find you."
- Allen Ivers

The problem with hiding places was that they were temporary. Sooner or later, Lucas had to come out. But not now. Not yet.

After school, he hung out with Nora at the mall. It was a good place to get cheap dinner and kill a few hours. They paced back and forth in each wing, stopping occasionally to sit on a bench. Nora listened to music and sang softly to herself while she finished her algebra homework. Lucas wrote lyrics until the clanging of metal gates echoed one by one through the emptying space. That was the sign the mall was closing and they had to get out.

"You wanna go to the park?" Lucas asked hopefully.

Nora shook her head. "My parents just texted. Curfew. Sorry, baby. I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

It had been a long time since anyone had cared where Lucas was. Well, his mother cared, but she had grown weary of the search. Her only son had become more than she could handle.

Nora kissed him goodbye in the mall parking lot, and he watched her until she disappeared into the chilly night. No avoiding it anymore. This hiding place had gone stale. Lucas sighed and put his notebook back into his school bag as slowly as possible.

There was only one thing appealing about home: Lucas's electric guitar, his prized possession. He played it every night until his hands and fingers throbbed. Since his father's death it had become as necessary as breathing.

The night was dark and the suburban streets were empty as Lucas walked home alone. He'd just killed another hour at the park in their subdivision, Rock Creek, staring up at the vast night sky from a bench and smoking. When he was too cold to stay there anymore he very reluctantly crept into the two story, cookie-cutter house he shared with his mother and Brian. No one was up.

As soon as Lucas got upstairs to his room, he realized one thing: his door was back on its hinges. He paused. Who? His mother? Definitely not Brian.

Oh well. The door was one less thing to worry about.

The relief he felt was gone, however, when he opened it and saw Brian sitting at his laptop desk.

Lucas jumped. "Jesus! What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm not Jesus," Brian mumbled, not looking at him. "Computer downstairs keeps crashing. I'm answering some work emails."

"But that's my school laptop!"

"You didn't take it to school today, did you?" Brian asked pointedly, looking at him with cold eyes. "No, of course you didn't. Lazy little shit."

Lucas turned to leave. He had to find another hiding spot now.

"Hey wait, son,"  Brian said.

Lucas bristled. "I am not your son."

"I'm the closest thing to a father you have now."

"My father is a million times better than you are. Even dead he's better than you."

Brian smiled. It was a ruthless, brutal smile that Lucas was all too familiar with. It meant he was about to be chewed out in some humiliating way.

"Only a pussy would have a dead junkie for a role model."

Lucas's anger flared from deep inside himself, where he stuffed it. The memory of the last time he'd seen his father was vivid. He remembered the conversation he had overheard between the two men.

"The only reason you're here is because he's dead. You know he'd kick your ass! He always won too because you're the real pussy here."

"Watch your mouth!" Brian snapped.

"I'll watch mine when you watch yours, hypocrite."

"Just sit down. I have news for you."

Lucas plopped down onto his unmade bed. His hands trembled with suppressed rage. Brian looked at him for a long, long time. He held eye contact with his stepfather even though he was afraid. Brian could smack him in the mouth at any moment with no warning, or even do something more humiliating like beat him with a belt. Brian was tall and well built, much stronger than his sixteen-year-old stepson. He loved to make Lucas feel like an insect.

"I fixed your door," Brian said, nodding at Lucas's scuffed door, which was covered with band stickers.

"Okay," Lucas replied flatly.

"Aren't you going to thank me?"

"You're the one who broke it so..." Lucas paused to shrug. "Nope."

Brian sighed deeply. "Thought we could have a normal conversation, but your whiny ass can't handle it. So here we go. Your mother is pregnant. In nine months or so, you'll have a brother or sister. So it's time to get past this little juvenile delinquent stage of your life."

Lucas's stomach dropped as his body went cold, hot, then cold again. But he tried to hide it.

"Who fucking cares?" he said, rolling his eyes as if the news meant nothing to him.

"Fine. Be that way. At least we'll finally have a kid around here who isn't a waste of space. My own kid. Far as I'm concerned, you're borrowing a bed here until you're eighteen."

"Just get the fuck out of my room," Lucas mumbled.

Brian grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him to his feet. Lucas flinched, arms instantly over his face to protect himself.

"Let's get one thing straight," Brian hissed, shaking him. "This is not your room, Lucas. You pay nothing to live here. You contribute nothing. You are nothing. Your mom would never admit it, but she regrets you. I know because she's told me. This baby is her second chance at a happy life. No more junkie ex-husband. No more delinquent son."

"Trust me, I don't wanna be here either. Not in this house. Not in this life," Lucas said.

"Threatening suicide again, huh? Real mature. If you want to do it that bad, why don't you? Oh that's right, it's because you're a little pussy boy with no balls."

Lucas was breathing hard through his anger. He always saw black dots before he snapped. Lately he didn't even remember the things he did. All he could remember was this moment, the lead up to the fight or the hole in the wall or the broken glass. The black dots were a warning, telling him he needed to calm down.

"Get to sleep," Brian said coldly before walking out and closing the door.

Lucas balled his hands into fists and screamed face first into his pillow as loudly as he could. The rage and sadness spilled out of him, separating muscle from bone, ripping him apart like a plastic garbage bag.

All he wanted was to be unconscious so he didn't have to feel the overwhelming anger and grief that had become his whole world.

Lucas reached into his nightstand drawer, found the bottle of Oxy he'd hidden from his father years ago, back when he was young and naive enough to think he could stop the inevitable. The fact that he had taken three since his father's death was his biggest and darkest secret. But it was only to sleep. He couldn't sleep anymore. What was he supposed to do? He'd witnessed his father being out for hours on this stuff, and on the worst nights it worked.

He'd also taken a bottle of Klonopin from Brian's sock drawer, which he used if the Oxy wasn't enough or if he just needed to relax. Tonight he needed more than relaxation though. He needed oblivion.

Lucas swallowed one of the pills and waited for it to carry what was left of him down the gentle river and into unconsciousness.