How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Luke

Luke had been attacked before by these three school bullies, but this time it was worse. They were enjoying themselves, and watching Luke suffer brought them pleasure. They continued their assault of fourteen-year-old Luke.

All Luke could think about was how much he wanted to kill Billy. He hated them and wished he could make them pay. His thoughts were interrupted when he felt another kick to the side, and another. He doubled over, crying out, begging for them to stop. They continued, laughing with his kick. Luke felt his insides burning, and with each kick, he thought he would explode. The boys yelled insults at Luke, slamming their thick school shoes into Luke's side. Then they finally stopped. One of the boys nudged Luke. He did not move.
'Do you think he's dead?' asked Kevin. He was the odd one out. Short, fat, and not very bright. He was Billy's brother, and wherever Billy went, Kevin followed.
'Nah. Look's he's breathing.'
Josh slammed his foot again into Luke's side and laughed.
'Let's get out of here,' he said. 'He's not moving. Come on. Let's go.

The three boys were gone, and Luke was left on his own, down the narrow lane, unable to move. The pain had become so bad, that Luke blacked out and endured the remaining kicks. It was not until Luke felt the gentle touch of a hand, that he awoke from his sleep, and glanced at the smiling face of an elderly man.

Luke spent two weeks recovering from his injuries. Cracked ribs, swollen eye socket, fractured left wrist, and a big purple bruised down his side. His breathing was laboured, and he spend most of the time sucking in oxygen from tiny tubs wedged up his nose. All he thought about were the three boys. He wanted them dead, and the anger he felt toward them intensified. He would happily rip their heads off and dance around their graves. He hated them.

The rain was starting to ease, and Luke got to his feet. Thinking back to those days in hospital helped him to remember how this had started. That hated how he felt. The trauma he had suffered; all those things caused him to experience what the doctor's called, borderline personality disorder. That hated; that desire to kill lingered in his subconscious and Sam took over and did the things Luke never could.

Luke stumbled down the road, wondering where he was, trying to figure out his location. He was near to his house. Get home, and get dry, then work out what to do.

When fourteen-year-old Luke had been discharged from the hospital, that was a day he would never forget. His parents were both working, and Luke would have to catch the bus home. He never made it home, not until the evening. When he left the hospital, he was no longer Luke, but Sam. Those two weeks in hospital had changed him and now his subconscious had taken over, protecting Luke from what happened that afternoon on April 28th.

Sam stood near the school gates, careful to stay out of sight, and waited patiently. He tried to calm his thought, but all he could hear was Luke complaining, calling out in his mind, wondering what was going on. Billy, Josh, and Kevin walked out of the gates and pushed a small year 7 child out of the way. Just seeing their faces sent a shiver up Sam's spine. He slipped the crowbar out of his coat and followed the group away from the school.

The deserted spot was perfect. Billy, Josh, and Kevin were completely unaware of Sam's presence until Josh felt the strike to the back of his legs. He went down with a thump, screaming in agony. Billy spun round, looking at the face he recognised and then at his friend, who was rolling around yelling over and over.
'What they hell did you do. You little punk?'
Billy lunged forward, arms out, fists raised. His knuckles cracked when the crowbar smashed into his raised fist. Billy doubled over, screaming, and wailing. Kevin stood frozen, unsure what to do, looking shocked and terrified. His friends were crying out. Josh was in a foetal position, clutching his legs. Billy was holding onto his right hand, which hung lifelessly, and was covered in blood. Kevin ran, and he did not look back.

Luke finally saw his house up ahead. The rain had thankfully stopped, but the cold was threatening to freeze his body where he stood. That horrible day back in April would haunt Luke forever. Sam had brutally attacked those boys, and they were never the same again. Sam had continued to beat Josh, that he lost the use of his left leg and spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair. Billy took further beatings, and his hand was smashed beyond repair, that the doctors had to remove it. Luke remembered the police taking him away to the station.

'Well son, you knocked them up really good,' said the police sergeant. He was an older man. His hair was thinning, and he wore a grey bushy moustache. Luke stared at him and wondered if he was really a police officer. He reminded Luke of someone's Grandad. This man, officer Lewis, had taken Luke away from the scene, after a passer-by had called them, and driven him to the local station. His parents were on the way.
'We have a problem here,' continued the older man. 'They are hurt bad, and you were at the scene, holding that bar. Did you hurt them?'
Luke did not remember. He could see some of the details, but most were fuzzy images, like trying to thing about events that happened years ago.
'I...' he stammered. 'I don't remember.'
'What do you mean. You don't remember.' The officer's tone had changed from kindness to annoyance.
'I don't know.'
'You are lying boy! We have witnesses. The boys said it was you, and you were holding the weapon.'
'No! It wasn't me. I didn't do it.' Luke was crying, tears were falling down his cheek.
'No need to cry,' the officer said, trying to sound sympathetic. 'We'll get to the bottom of this.'

Stepping through the front door of his grand house, Luke stood at the entrance, looking into the silent house. He was fixed in place, thinking back to those events when he was fourteen. It had taken months to sort things out. Luke was not allowed to leave his house. Police, therapist, doctors, lawyers, they all talked to Luke, and eventually they came to the same conclusion. He was mentally ill, suffering from a weird personality problem. He was not responsible for his action, and if he saw a therapist, he would stay out of prison. Two years of therapy, and he never saw Sam again.

The door slammed behind him, caught be a gust of wind, and Luke stomped his wet shoes through the house. This had once been his home, filled with laughter, and love. Now, it seemed like a stranger's house, and he did not belong here. Despite his feelings, Luke was glad to be able to shower and change into dry clothes, then he would figure out what do next. Sam was back, in his head, and Luke had to stop him. Worst of all, Luke knew that Louise would die tomorrow evening.

You know the truth. Luke knows it too. I wish he understood like you do, and now he knows my plans. Not all of it, only the ones I thought about when we were both awake. The rest is locked away in his subconscious. He thinks he can stop me. No chance. You heard what I did to those kids. Luke is weak. I'm stronger, and I'm going to take over. It's time Luke went away for a while.