Page 28

Luke

Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace

15 Years Ago

L ight peaks in through the small windows high above as dawn begins to break. It’s barely enough light to be noticeable, but I’ve trained my body to react instantly to the light. I need to be up and out of here early before anyone comes in and catches me sleeping here on the cold floor.

I stretch out my body and groan as every sore piece of me rebels against the movement. Sleeping on the cold tile floor of the locker room isn’t comfortable but it’s better than the alternative. I swing open the metal locker slowly, making sure to be as quiet as I can just in case there is someone who has decided to come in extra early today. I grab the small bag stashed at the bottom of the locker and walk over to the row of sinks lining the far wall. Pulling out the few toiletries I have, I go to brush my teeth, but the toothpaste tube is beyond empty.

Fuck.

This, plus the lack of clean clothes left, means I’ll have to return to my room soon and restock. Hopefully I can manage to sneak into my foster home in the next few days while no one is there. I’ll have to ditch school and wait until my foster mom leaves to get groceries while everyone else is at work or school. I just need five minutes to sneak in and grab some fresh clothes and toiletries without getting caught. It’s a miracle the Davis’ even leave my room stocked; I figured they would have thrown out my shit long ago. I guess this way they know I have to return to the hell house they call a home.

I wet my barren toothbrush and at least scrub my teeth before changing into the last pair of passably clean clothes I have. It’s a bit too cold today for the lightweight shirt and dilapidated jeans I slip my skinny ass into, but it’s the only thing I have that I haven’t already worn this week and isn’t disgustingly dirty. The flimsy fabric won’t really keep me warm enough outside, but hopefully I’ll only have to wait out there briefly before I can sneak back into the school building for breakfast. The thought of warm food elicits a deep rumble from my stomach. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t the only person around. The last meal I had was the free school lunch of pizza and some fruit yesterday afternoon, but I’ll have to hold out for a few more hours until they start serving up breakfast.

I’d kill for a warm shower right now but I can’t risk someone hearing the water; I’ll have to wait until the end of gym class to wash. Most kids clean off and run out of the gym, our last period of the day, as quickly as they can. But I stay and savor it. I’m one of the few kids not running out of the building as quickly as possible when that last bell of the day goes off.

I’ve been hiding out in the school the last few weeks. I hang out around town after school until it’s late enough for most to have left the grounds, then I sneak back in through the side door that the gym teacher leaves open for his smoke breaks. I hide out inside the locker room until it gets dark enough to get some rest, then I use my gym clothes as a pillow and sleep on the floor. I wake up each morning before anyone arrives and sneak out the same side door, hiding out back until the school officially opens. It’s not comfortable or fun, but at least it’s safe. I’d rather be uncomfortable and hungry, than broken and bruised. Occasionally, I stay with my best friend Garett at his house, but I can’t have his mom catching on and asking too many questions. Plus, she’s a single mom. I know she can’t afford another mouth to feed.

Stuffing all my shit back in my locker, I close it and head out of the locker room toward the side door in the back of the gym hallway. I make sure to close it every evening after I sneak back in to avoid any issues. Pushing it open, the cold air hits me in the face immediately. Shit, it’s much colder than I anticipated today. It’s going to be a long couple of hours outside in this frigid air waiting for the school to officially open. My dark brown hair is overgrown and flops against my eyes as the wind whips it around my face.

Hiking my school backpack up on my shoulder, I put my head down to avoid the wind and push forward. I just need to make it out to my favorite tree around the other side of the building, then I can sit and try to do some of my homework before the school day begins and I can grab a warm meal inside. Another gust blows against me and my body shivers from the chill. It’s going to be a long and cold few hours.

When I finally reach the large oak past the soccer fields, I let out the breath I’ve been holding in. Maneuvering around to the far side of the tree in an attempt to hide from the bitter chill, I throw myself to the ground and slide down the trunk. The rough bark slips against each vertebra of my bony back. I’ve never been a big kid. When you don’t know one of your biological parents, your genes are a fun guessing game. I remember wondering if I’d hit puberty and suddenly explode into a tall wall of muscles. I imagined myself dwarfing my bullies and pummeling them into the ground the same way they’d been beating the crap out of me since elementary school. Unfortunately, I got the height but not the bulk. Poor nutrition and stress means I’m more skin and bones and less wall of badass muscle. I am a gangly, pathetic, weirdo who wears the same clothes more often than is socially acceptable. The other kids have ostracized me. With the exception of Garett, I’ve become a complete fucking friendless loser. And don’t even get me started on girls. As much as I fantasize about them, none of them have ever even bothered to look in my direction.

I pull out my math book from my backpack and the worksheet I was assigned yesterday. I’m not a great student. I try, don’t get me wrong. I have plans, and they involve me getting the fuck out of the shit hole town and making a life for myself. I know I need good grades to not only get into college but also to get the scholarships I’ll need in order to pay for college. I come from nothing, like lower than fucking dirt. Unknown dad and a junkie piece of shit mom. Kids like me are charity cases that some colleges will take if they know we are willing to work hard, which I definitely am. I’m not afraid of hard work if it means safety and security. I learned long ago that no one’s going to take care of me other than myself, and that’s what I intend to do. Things have just been extra shitty lately, and my grades are suffering because of it.

“There’s our pal Lucky Lucas!”

Shit .

With the wind blowing intensely I didn’t even hear them approaching. I’m so sick of them. I just want them to leave me the fuck alone for once. Even for just one day. But they won’t. They never leave me the fuck alone.

“Whatcha’ doing there Lucky Lucas?” Brody asks as he sneers at me down his perfectly straight nose.

Brody and his pack of goons are my least favorite people to run into here. He’s a blonde haired, blue-eyed, pretentious piece of shit. His family owns several businesses around town and they’re loaded. I don’t think Brody’s ever wanted for anything in his entire life. He has everything anyone could ever want. Every. Fucking. Thing. You think someone like that would be content, happy. But Brody is a complete asshole. He spends most days trying to make my life more miserable than it already is. The universe has already dealt me a pile of utter shit for a life, why he needs to try to make it worse at the one place I feel safe is beyond me.

“Math.” I don’t look up. I mumble down into my chest, praying they’ll just leave me alone and walk away. But they never walk away.

“You waiting out here until they open so you can be first in line for food, you poor as fuck piece of shit?” Wyatt, the stupidest of the gang asks as he lightly kicks at my knee. He’s an absolute moron but he’s also huge. His neck alone is thicker than my waist.

“Maybe he lives here,” Marcus adds as the rest snicker. I can feel my cheeks burst into flames as the truth of his words hits me. I panic for a minute thinking that they know where I’ve been sleeping. “His whore of a mother certainly can’t have him hanging out in her trailer while she sells herself for five bucks a pop.”

They all get a laugh out of that one. My mom may be a junkie and a shitty ass mom, but as far as I know, she was never a whore. Even if she was, listening to her get fucked, and then get fucked up, would be preferable to the hell that I was placed in after being removed from her care.

“Don’t talk about my mom,” I mumble into my chest, but they don’t hear me.

“No, don’t you remember, his mom is such a piece of shit that the state removed Lucky Lucas here from her care. Now he gets to live with Will and his parents.” I keep my eyes and head lowered in submission but I can feel Brody hovering over me, assessing me. “Isn’t that right?”

“Oh shit, that’s right!” Kyle, the fourth and final member of their gang adds. “Fuck, Will is such a badass. What a shame he got stuck with stupid ass Lucky Lucas mooching off his family. They deserve a huge payout from the state for having to deal with your sorry ass!”

Yeah, my foster brother, Will, has a reputation for being very cool among everyone here. He was a star athlete when he went here, and now goes to college across town but lives at home. He’s going to take over his father’s successful real estate firm one day. He still shows up at all the high school parties and games, bringing booze and weed with him. They all worship him like a fucking god. But no one even questions why a man in his twenties, who’s off at college, is still hanging out with underage kids. No one cares to look beneath the mask; all too afraid to expose the monster.

The first blow comes as a surprise and knocks me off guard. The blinding pain radiates from where Wyatt hit me on my temple and across my entire skull. His fist rams into my head so intensely that I’m thrown to the ground and black dots spark across my field of vision. A pained cry leaves my lips, causing them all to laugh at me.

“Will asked us to check on you.” Brody’s breath is sour as he leans over my crumpled form and speaks against the side of my face. “He’s worried you haven’t been home and haven’t been eating.”

Yeah, I’m sure Will’s been very worried about where I am.

“So we thought we’d bring you a snack,” Marcus states and the rest laugh as if it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

Right on cue, my stomach growls again. Another wave of embarrassment and anger courses through me and I struggle to keep tears from forming in my eyes. I’m not sure how much more I’m going to be able to take before I snap.

“We all made a contribution to your special snack,” Wyatt manages to get out between giggles.

I look up to see him holding a ziploc baggie with what appears to be a sandwich inside. I know this must be some type of sick fucking joke but right now I’m not catching on to what’s so funny.

Brody’s fingers snake into the dark hair at the crown of my head and pull. Sharp pain spreads throughout my scalp as he yanks me up to a sitting position. He doesn’t let go of my hair as the rest of his gang surrounds me, caging me against the tree and glowering down at me.

Marcus leans forward and pinches my cheeks. “Open wide Lucas, so we can feed you your snack.”

Shaking him off of me nearly causes my roots to be ripped from my head as Brody tightens his hold on my hair. I spit at Marcus’ face. The loogie lands right in the corner of where his nose meets his cheek. If I wasn’t so terrified of what’s going to come next I’d savor this moment—the look on Marcus’ face is phenomenal.

The punch he lands on my diaphragm is not. I wheeze and cough, unable to breathe for a moment. Marcus isn’t as strong as Wyatt, but the punch still hurts like a bitch.

“Luke,” I finally manage to choke out between pained gasps.

“What?” Marcus growls in my face.

“Luke.” I hate repeating myself for the sake of these morons. “My name is Luke, not Lucas you assholes. We’ve gone to school together since kindergarten, you think you’d know my name by now.”

“I’m sick of this. Let’s feed him this cum sandwich already!” Wyatt whines from behind the murderous asshole in my face.

“Aww, you ruined the surprise. Now he won’t eat it,” Kyle complains. Not like I was really interested in whatever they intended to feed me before, but there’s no way in hell I’m eating a sandwich filled with their jizz. These sick fucks are out of their minds.

“He doesn’t have a fucking choice, dumbass.” Their leader snarks as he pulls my hair tighter, forcing my head back.

They all giggle as Marcus returns his hand to my face. His fingers pinch harshly into my cheeks. I try my best to keep my mouth closed but it’s no use, his fingers dig so deeply into my flesh that the inside of my cheeks tear against my teeth and I open my mouth in agony. As I do, Wyatt forces the bread into my mouth. I thrash and struggle against them.

I use my tongue to try to push the sandwich out of my mouth but when I do, I register the taste of something salty on my tongue. Realizing what it is, I immediately gag. Bile rises up from my stomach, the acid burning my esophagus. Tears and snot run down my face while their laughter and jeers fill the air around us.

I pray for someone, anyone, to come and save me. I need a teacher or a janitor, fuck even another student, to come find me. I’m so weak and pathetic, unable to save myself. The rage builds within me with each of their cackling laughs. My disgust turns to pain and anger.

Satisfied with their punishment, they release me. My head falls forward as hot tears streak down my cheeks. I spit the remains of their sick fucking snack on the ground in front of me. Raising my eyes, I’m met with Brody’s icy stare.

“You were supposed to swallow like a good little boy,” he sneers into my face.

Those words break me. Whatever restraint I had left is shattered. I lunge at Brody, throwing him to the ground and hitting his face as hard as I can with my fists. I feel my knuckles collide with his nose with a crunch. Blood splatters across me as it spews from his face. I feel good for the first time in a long time. Every punch I throw at him pulls a piece of the rage and pain out of my soul and sets it free.

That is, until large hands pull me off of Brody. I’m thrown to the ground, my head colliding with a cold rock. My vision flashes in and out as pain flares behind my eyes. I feel them on me instantly, all of them kicking and hitting me. Someone grabs me by the shirt and slams me back down. I briefly register the pain of the rock against my head again before everything goes black.

I have no idea where I am. Everything is foggy and unclear. I feel like I’m not really here. I can’t remember the last thing that happened.

I try to open my eyes but the brightness is blaring and painful. I slam my eyes shut and try to take a few deep breaths. Where the hell am I?

Daring to squint my eyes slightly open again, I’m able to get a glimpse of myself. I’m definitely laying down somewhere. I’m covered in a white sheet. Am I dead? No. I’m in pain. I’m pretty sure I read somewhere that you’ll know you’re dead when you don’t feel pain anymore. If that’s what death feels like, then I’m the opposite of dead. Everything hurts. Every. Fucking. Thing. The pain behind my eyes is the worst though. It feels like my skull shattered in two. A pained groan escapes from my throat.

“Oh my god! Steve! Steve, he’s awake! Go get the nurse! Hurry!”

Fuck . I know that voice. It’s what’s her face. Damn, I can’t remember her name. She’s my foster mom, I hate her, and her name is … Shit . I can’t remember. What’s wrong with me?

When I open my eyes further, I see her worried face looking down at me as she stands awkwardly by the side of the bed.

“I want my mom,” I manage to croak out. My vocal chords feel rough.

“I’m right here baby.” She goes to grab my hand but I pull it back.

“No. Not you. I want my real mom.” I know I’m begging but I don’t care at this point. I feel lost and scared, and I just want someone around who actually gives even a slice of a shit about me. “Please.”

“Oh, Luke.” She actually has it in her to look remorseful as she breaks my heart. “We couldn’t reach her. Her phone’s been disconnected. Someone went by her place to find her, it looks like she left.”

What the fuck?

“What do you mean left?” My voice is rising and I know I shouldn’t yell at her, but I don’t really care right now.

“Well, Luke, you see—”

Before she can finish, the door swings open and my foster father, Steve, rushes in with a woman in a uniform and another in a lab coat. I assume he’s brought a nurse and doctor with him.

“Oh, good, you’re awake. You gave us quite a scare young man,” the woman who I assume is the doctor says to me while the nurse starts to poke and prod me, occasionally giving me some directions as to how I can assist her assessment of me.

When I don’t respond, the doctor turns to address my foster parents. My foster father has his arm wrapped around his wife’s shoulders, holding her against him. They both are doing a really good job of appearing like the sweet and caring couple that they most definitely are not.

“We can’t really say for sure what the long term effects of such a severe concussion will be. Luke may be back to normal in a week or two. However, recent evidence suggests that severe concussions, such as the one your son suffered, can have long term effects, most noticeably on personality.”

I almost interject to correct her—I’m not their son. Not really. But I don’t interrupt, I don’t even speak. This seems important, plus movement by the door to my hospital room has caught my eye. Someone moves from the hallway to stand in the frame of the door, peering in at me with intensity.

“There are some reports of severe concussions leading to personality changes characterized by a lack of emotional regulation and outbursts of sudden anger. Some report aggression and violent tendencies as a result of severe concussions…”

The doctor continues to drone on and on about what a volatile and violent dick I’m going to become, but I don’t hear him. I’m too consumed with the man in the doorway. My foster brother, Will, stands there staring at me with an amused sneer on his face.

Brody and his croons have no idea what they’ve done. There’s no way I’m leaving this hospital and not going back to my foster home. They’ll most likely have me on bed rest. I’ll be completely vulnerable, a sitting duck for whatever depravity Will decides to inflict upon me. My bullies went too far this time. They didn’t just beat me and degrade me. They didn’t just leave me bedridden in the hospital. No, Brody and his pals just gave me a one way ticket back to my own personal Hell.

They will pay for this. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but every single moment of pain Will inflicts upon me I intend to tally up. And one day, I’ll make sure that Brody and his friends are on the receiving end of that same pain. After all, the Devil wasn’t always bad, he was an angel, corrupted and reborn in the fiery pits of Hell to become a monster.