holding onto you

chapter nine

"luca, come downstairs." a loud voice shouted from the kitchen.
"I can't go to church today, sorry."
"why is that? and call me father when you address me."
"because, father, I have an trigonometry quiz to revise for tomorrow."
"then come to church and pray that you will receive above a C- grade."
luca fell to his knees in defeat. he screwed up his eyes. he sat back on his bed and looked behind his shoulder, his eyes resting on his piles of vinyls next to his record player. he crawled over to it and turned up the volume knob. each twist of it, he was never satisfied. it was the last track of the nirvana album, bleach. the volume was now at the highest, the song was now at the contrast of screaming in a library.
the nearly incoherent words blurred together in the unbreakable loud of the room.
("portray sincerity,  act out of loyalty,  defend your true country,  wish away the--")
a loud banging on the door shook luca's bedroom.
"turn that down, luca."
his father's voice was rougher and louder and harder than it had ever been. he remembered it though, the times he had been scolded, a convenient slipper or, in harsher occasions, a belt over his backside.
many times, his father had shouted infront of him. but each time, he remained so sane and calm.
"luca, turn it off."
"not until you don't force me to go to church every fucking sunday."
he was screaming over the music, drowning out the bass. ("surrealistic fantasy,  bland boring plain,  hold me down in restitution--")
"I'm so sick of living in this house of jesus freaks !! I dont believe in this shit. we're all living off scriptures that were written over 2000 years ago," luca paused, hyperventilating "2000 years ago; people knew fuck all !! I'm so sick of living like this, getting scolded every time I step out of line. why do we do all this ? it's all so fake, god doesn't exist, I know he doesn't because when you tell me to pray, I pray that I wasn't a--" he stopped himself, holding back his words. there were tears rolling down his cheeks as he shouted through the wooden door.
("make enough of the words for you to follow along
I sink and then some.")
the track ended and left the room soaked in silence.
luca's face was stained with red tear stains. he hid behind his bloodshot eyes. he slumped his back against the door in defiance and his face fell into his hands.

"fine, your way. don't go to church."
the voice behind the door was quiet once again. it knew it was just loud enough to be heard. there was a faint pause, before luca heard the lock turning in the key. he flinched slightly. he rocked, hugging his knees. with each tear that slipped down his cheek, he kept whispering the same words to himself. "boys don't cry, luca."
the floor was hard, and after about an hour, it hurt too much to go on. he cried silently, muffling his cries with the sleeve of his shirt. the top button was uncomfortably pressing into his neck but he didnt move, he lacked the energy, the motivation. he wanted so badly to fall into a coma that would keep him out of it for years and years. he had often thought of comas as a death trial session, to see if you wanted it on not. the people who payed those dollars of death, died peacefully in their coma, those who didnt like it, woke up, even after years.