Luke

Chapter 3

It was late. The sky was black and a few stars littered the sky, some much brighter than others. I was walking home from the drive-in. I didn’t feel like getting a ride, even though Brielle insisted in the parking lot. I just wasn’t in the mood, I guess. I was kind of tipsy, but I could still walk relatively straight. I don't get drunk very easily. Brielle, on the other hand, was wasted. She can never control herself when it comes to alcohol, I realized. I don't blame her; if it wasn't for drugs, I would have been getting drunk every day. But it doesn't change the fact that she drinks too much. That's one of the only things she's ever cared about. We don't even watch the movies at the drive-ins anymore. All we do now-a-days in that lot is drink and make-out and occasionally have sex. I've just wanted to watch the movies now.

The walk home was cold, just like usual. My untied shoes trudged along the decaying sidewalk, illuminated softly by the moon. I watched my feet take turns, pushing me along the walkway. My Docs were tattered and scratched, memories etched into their surfaces. I saw walks down into dirt pits, travels through woods at night, and several high and drunk nights wandering the city. My boots carried me through a lot of shit. 

Sam’s car was in the driveway when I rounded the corner and walked up the brick walkway, indicating he was inside. Great. More drama I have to deal with. I’ll just kiss his ass and make him happy. Hopefully Lilly’s back so he won’t be such a pain for now.

I walked through the gate, an unwelcoming creek greeting my return. I climbed up the dilapidated stairs and stood at the door, fiddling with the keys before putting them into the lock. I had trouble opening the door from shaky hands; I didn’t have money to stock up on cigs while coming home and Brielle was out. The door finally unlocked and I took the keys out of the lock, putting them in my pocket, stumbling inside. The screen slammed behind me; so much for a quiet entry. Sam entered the room right away. 

“Where the hell have you been?” He asked me, anger in his voice.

“That’s none of your business.” I started walking past the torn sofa towards my room, hoping he wouldn’t continue in his questioning.

He grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back, making me face him. "It is my business. Where were you?”

“Why should you fucking care? It’s my life I can do what I want with it.”

“You don’t just run out when I’m having a conversation with you, okay?”

“We weren’t having a fucking conversation, Sam. It was more like you yelling. Let me go.”

“I want to know where you were.”

“Well too fucking bad. You can’t get me to do anything.”

“Lilly was in the hospital and you didn’t even visit.”

“Do I usually visit?”

“She’s your sister.”

“And you’re her brother. I don’t need to be told what I am. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“I’m in charge here and I’ll tell you what you can and can’t do.”

“You’re not dad, you fucking asshole. It shouldn’t fucking matter where I go or not. I’m 19, you’re not in charge of me. Just go to hell.” I shrugged him off and trudged down the carpeted hall before he could start a fist fight. The uncomforting smell of my house forcibly engulfed me. I went into my room and slammed the door behind me, resting my head on the white wood behind me. I dropped my backpack to the floor and pulled off my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. I walked over to my bedside table, the paint chipping off from wear and tear. I pulled open the drawer and took out some pills, dry-swallowing them and letting out a heavy breath. I looked above my bed to the window; it was still dark outside. I saw the faded outlines of trees, branches brushing against the small glass rectangle. 

I sat on my bed and pulled off my shoes, placing them underneath my bed. My blankets were in a ball, just like Jay's were. Maybe that's where she got it from. I influenced a lot of stuff on her. 

There was a heavy feeling in my chest, weighing me down. I didn't feel like standing or moving; I just felt like sitting there. My head felt like a thick fog was in it, blocking my thoughts and giving me a headache. I was too tired to think anyways.

I pulled off my socks and pants, crumpling them into a black fabric ball and chucking it near the door where my laundry was overflowing. I pulled back what was left of my covers, pulling them over me and letting out a sigh, staring up at my white, chalky ceiling. 

I just felt this overwhelming sadness. Not that it wasn't normal because I felt like that everyday, but I never seemed to get used to it. There didn't seem to be a point, really. Walking home or going to school, doing work. I wasn't going to get very far anyway. My grades were still failing, even in senior year when you actually had to try to fail. I already flunked my junior year and needed to stay behind. There wasn't a doubt that I was going to stay back that year as well. I didn't know what I would do. 

The heaviness in my chest grew and my breathing quickened, but I knew I couldn't let it get to me. I wouldn't. I reached over to the bedside drawer to pull out the pill bottle, my hands glazing over the shape of a match box and the picture frame, its cold metal chilling my fingertips. I rarely looked at that photo. 

I downed another pill from the bottle, putting it back in the drawer. The glass candle lid used as an ashtray spun inside. I scratched my arm, looking at the tattoo I decided to be placed there. I don't know why I chose that one- there were plenty more to choose from. I guess I just liked that one. Along with the others I got. 

Maybe I should buy Jay a tattoo, I thought to myself, followed by a quick chuckle. Nah, I don't have enough money for that. I mean, I could save up for it. Yeah, I'll do that. It'll be a birthday present maybe. I hope she'll like it. 

I turned over, bringing my knees up closer to my chest. The pillow welcomed me as I drifted off to what little sleep I would get.