Stellar Lucifer

Chapter 4: Some Chinese Man

~Lucas~

I guess this is it. I've hit rock bottom... And right now, I'm staring at the blasted tattoo Lucifer gave me, placed on my back.

The design was stupidly weird. Well, what more can I expect from a literal demon?

Nothing.

He's ruined my life enough, and even if he'd saved me, it was wrong... But at the same time right. These thoughts keep on confusing me to the core.

It's alright to embrace this evil side... Right? After all, Lucifer went through all the trouble to help me—because he wanted to help himself.

Yeah right, I knew that all along.

"Lucas, come downstairs and have some breakfast." My dad's voice echoed from the kitchen, and I could only groan in response.

Hauser's barks filled my ears, and I figured it was because he was also worried about me. Bending over, I reached to pat his head.

"Thanks a lot for the barking, boy." I smiled, and it looked like he understood. I ignored the black six-sided star that had appeared on my back. It's not like anyone would be able to see it anyway.

I half-expected my dad to be wearing that pink, frilly apron when I came down, but no.

To my surprise, he was carrying a small backpack, and the clothes he had on indicated that we were going someplace. But where?

"Dad," looking up at him, I began. "W-where are we going?"

My father's face looked glum, and I could immediately sense that there was something wrong. Was he... Sending me away?

"Well, Lucas," he stated, grabbing the car keys from the kitchen counter beside him. "Someone said he'd help you get rid of your curse."

I gagged. "Please don't tell me you agreed to let them experiment on me like a Guinea pig."

"I didn't."

A sigh of relief filled my lungs, but I figured I did that too soon.

"But they'll take you... And you'll stay there for five months."

"Seriously!" I screeched at him, with all my anger, rage, disappointment, and many other negative emotions rolled into one giant ball. He said he wouldn't let me leave, because I was his son! How could his decisions change so easily?

And how can I stop this sick, bitter taste of what seemed like betrayal from filling my mouth? I doubt toothbrush can wash this one off.

Matthew avoided my questioning gaze, and I knew that he was still having second thoughts about this. Surely enough, my mutt's cheerful yips interrupted the pending silence and I rushed over to give him his dog food.

"Dad, do you even know this guy, whoever he is?" I inquired, tilting my head to the side. I was trying my best to stay calm and composed. My dad—after all—made me partake anger management lessons when I was still seven.

To avoid trouble, he says.

Tolerating the world's flaws and its stupidity became my specialty, and proved itself quite useful when I finally faced the world again after that incident.

People and kids called me names, I grew accustomed, and the cycle went on for more than ten years.

"I don't know, but one thing's for sure, Lucas." My father faced me, expression sullen and filled with worry. My chest tightened, and I imagined how depressing being alone felt.