The Future isn't Bright

Twelve

        "Lucas..?" I called, slowly backing out of the house. Then, I heard the start of a car engine bustling to life.

        "Lucas!" I yelled, running out of the house and back to where his car was parked. He was already turning out of the driveway and onto the street.

        "Wait!" I yelled, waving my hands to get his attention. I ran a few steps after him but he kept driving. Feeling hopeless, I exhaled sharply and kicked at a synthetic tree nearby. Why? Why did everything have to go wrong? Just before I was about to walk into the wreck of a home, I heard a car. I spun around so quickly that I got dizzy. Lucas pulled up to the driveway and rolled his window down.

        "I had to U-turn. You didn't think I would leave you like that, did you?" he asked with a smile. My mouth turned into a thin line as he senses something is wrong. He gets out of the car. I motion for him to follow me.  

        As we step silently through the doorway, his bottom jaw slowly reacts to gravity and he pulls his hand down his face.  

        "Oh, Donna..." he managed to say. I swallowed sadness as I took in the damage done to the home. I walked over to a coffee table smashed in two. The different pictures that used to sit on it were scattered all over the floor, their frames and glass shattered. I picked one of them up. It was of me, Ethan, and Father piled up on each other in the backyard, play wrestling. Where was Father anyway? He would never do this to his beloved home. Ethan wouldn't either. What was going on?

Suddenly came a loud crashing noise. I spun around to look at Lucas, who didn't seem to move an inch from the last time I saw him.

"It wasn't me," he mouthed, confirming my thoughts. I raised an eyebrow and began to slowly make my way through the rubble. Lucas tried to follow me but I held my hand up and stopped him. I had to be careful to not step on any glass shards. The destroyed furniture almost made me cry. The source of the mysterious noise had to be a person. Or a bear...  

"Father..?" I say uneasily, making my way down a gloomy hallway. I get no reply. The skylights in the ceiling help shed some light on the walls around me. I could now see that the walls were covered in stains. I leaned forward, looking at the wall. The stain was red. Its metallic smell circulated through the hallway. I gasped. My stomach was up in my throat. I felt my bile building up. I looked away and shut my eyes tightly. No. He couldn't be dead.  

A groaning noise came from the room across from me, down the hallway. My Father's bedroom. I debate whether or not to go further. I tried to forget about the wall and its revolting stains. I urged myself to go further, for the sake of my father. I placed one foot in front of the other, trying not to make a sound on the bamboo floor. I didn't want to provoke whatever, or rather whoever, was in there. I got to the door and hesitated.

I reached my hand toward the doorknob but pulled it back. What was I doing? I should have called the authorities as soon as I stepped foot in the house, but I honestly doubted that they would have helped. I puffed out my chest and managed to gather up enough courage to clasp my hand on the knob. I turn it silently and push the door open swiftly. I was not surprised to find more rubble inside. The bed was trashed, its sheets disheveled. What I didn't find was an explanation for the groaning. The only other place it could have came from was... The closet.  

I treaded silently across the room. I didn't hesitate by this time, because the curiosity was killing me. I shoved the door open and raise my fists in a fighting stance. I was surprised to find a person laying on the ground all tied up, a sack on his head obscuring his vision. I leaned over to him. I reached out my trembling hand out and gently slid the sack off of his head.