Lucas ✔️

Thirty-Seven

It was obvious Shax didn't know what to do with a hysterically crying teenage girl, and neither did Amy. Both looked uncomfortable and Shax even patted me on my shoulder before standing up and moving away, putting as much distance between the two of us as he could. Amy was a teenage girl, so I wasn't sure why she looked as awkward as she did, shuffling foot to foot and eyes looking everywhere but at me.

Lucas though... he knew what to do.

He came over, his eyes lighter than they looked moments earlier, and sat on the damp ground next to me. Without a word, he scooped me up into a hug, letting me wipe my salty tears and snot on him as I tried to pull myself together.

I had nearly died.

I had nearly been killed.

As tears ran down my face I tried to understand how or why I had ever thought that was what I wanted. I couldn't figure out how I had convinced myself so wholly that dying was the answer, what I wanted... what I needed. I was crying for myself, for my illusion, for the fact that I lived, that they saved me. But... I was also crying for him.

Did you regret it, Dad?

In the moments before you died... did you regret jumping?

The thought of Dad, moments from death and wishing he could take it all back was traumatising. I almost wished I had died, just so I wouldn't have had to live with the knowledge that he might have been exactly like me... wishing for it until it was about to happen. I was lucky that I hadn't been killed, exceptionally lucky. But Dad did die, and the only solace I had been given so far was the knowledge that it was 'what he wanted'... but what if it wasn't?

Lucas said something softly into my ear, a brief whisper of sweet words I barely heard. I finally began to pull myself together, small hiccups escaping my mouth as I leant back to look at Lucas. He wasn't smiling, he just looked at me with his eyes flicking back at forth between mine. They were so light, almost gold, and he looked so soft and gentle it was hard to imagine moments ago I had seen him stomping on someone's hand. I tried to sit up, pushing myself off of him and he let me moving away slightly as I looked around.

There were ghouls almost completely surrounding us, like a wall made of ghostly black balls, which made their way towards me when I looked at them. A few brushed against me before they floated nearby, as though saying hello or that they were glad I was safe. Shax and Amy were nowhere to be found, so I turned back to Lucas.

"Wh-" my voice cut out and I coughed painfully, watching carefully as Lucas' eyes were drawn to my neck and they darkened instantly. "What are you doing here?"

"Are you not glad I'm here?" he replied smoothly, in true Lucas fashion.

He stood up and brushed his clothes off, reaching a hand down to help me up. I took it and it was warm but cooling quickly. It almost felt like I could slip right through his hand at any moment and slip right back to the ground, but I didn't. He pulled me up easily even when my legs wobbled and held me in place as he pulled a few sticks from my hair, straightening it up for me.

"Thanks," I whispered, turning to look at the burly man who had attacked me.

His eyes were closed, his face bloody and puffed up and his hand... his had was crushed, nearly flattened against the dirty ground. I could feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach twirl at the sight at the knowledge that the man beside me had done that. There was no way his hand was going be fixed, it was practically dismembered from his body, nothing more than thin tendons and skin keeping it together.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked Lucas softly, looking at him and gauging his reaction.

"We didn't," Amy said from behind me, emerging from a few trees with a jacket in her hand and Shax behind her, another body in tow.