Good Luck Charm (Completed)

Redemptions and Recompense

     Vincent sat on the curb, tears having dried way for panic. Panic about what might happen to Lucas. He didn't believe the whole crap about being a good luck charm, it was superstitious, but Lucas did, and that could be detrimental because Lucas would operate as if it was true. Vincent knew Lucas could do it all on his own, he just didn't know that Lucas knew that. 

     Vincent pulled out his phone, fruitlessly calling random people in his contacts, hopeful at least one would answer and come pick him up.

     "Pick up, pick up, pick up!" He chanted as Hailey's phone ring. "UGH!" He scream-groaned as Hailey's cheerful voice messaging system picked up. Next he tried Dustin much to the same response, followed by Sarah, and even Brittany. "Two faced slut." He mumbled when she didn't pick up.

     Vincent had spent the whole weekend taking crap from Ms. Marshall, the whole year taking crap from Marty, and his entire life taking crap from everyone. He was sick of it. Sick to his stomach of the kindness that got him stuck on the curb while his boyfriend needed him most. He made excuses for everyone who treated him like shit. Made apologies and forgave them, and he was done. It wasn't nice to call Brittany a slut, but Vincent couldn't care less. It wasn't right to call Ms. Marshall a bitch, but what the hell had being right ever gotten him before? A whole world of pain. 

     Vincent slumped his head to his knees, eyes spilling forth with tears of the pain of a life of subjugation, subjugation that he'd allowed from those who acted with moral inferiority over him. Ms. Marshall felt she had authority, thought she'd given him things, felt he should be grateful to her, because he'd allowed her to feel that way for fourteen years. Vincent's tears dripped down his shirt, making him cold and shivering, though more continued to fall. They streamed down his hands, arms, and cheeks, covering him like a mask, surrounding him like a bubble. His tears were choking the oxygen from his lungs. 

     "No no no!" He screamed, furiously wiping his face. No more tears. He would cry no more tears. Tears were weak, and weakness had gotten him exactly to where he was. People prey on the meek. They take control of those who let them. Maybe if he had shut Marty down from the start, maybe if he'd shut Ms. Marshall down from the start... Maybe if he'd put her in her place, reminded her of where she came from, as she so often did to him. Maybe then she wouldn't feel entitled to say the things she said. 

      Vincent mumbled through the only thing he knew how to do, a prayer for Lucas. Perhaps useless, perhaps the only thing sustaining him. Vincent broke down on the ground, mumbling the words to a Hail Mary taught to him by his mother. Lucas could get injured. Lucas could get killed. But there was nothing Vincent could do. And when there's nothing you can do, you pray. Vincent repeated the words again. Begging for someone, something, to help him. Begging for the safety of Lucas. Begging, begging for the chance to beg and beg again. 

     Human nature is a funny thing. No matter the glories, the disgrace, the madness, we always end up in the same place. Atheists, Catholics, Muslims, Democrats, and Republicans all end up praying to something. We repeat ancient words passed from ancestors, or we let them go and practice positive affirmation, mediation, and manifestation, which are in effect the same exact thing. Sometimes we can't bring ourselves to formalize what we're doing, so we practice the most basic and innate human virtue; hope. No matter the truth, the practicality, or the outcome, life takes and takes until it leaves every person at nothing. Only to come back, be reborn, and go through the whole thing again. 

     Vincent's mother always said, everyone's a Christian when life gets tough. He supposed it was true. In effect, everyone became the same when things were taken from their hands. There were the tough, the resilient, and what you did afterwards was what set you apart as a person, but in a state of panic we're all the same.