Random Fridays

Resolved Conflicts ---Part 2

It started with the screams.

Two unified, soul-deep screams, loud and resounding in pain and agony.

Lucas had to choose... his brother or his aunt?

Two years ago, Lucas' aunt, Rosalie, had been murdered in her apartment in the dead of the night.

It was Lucas who had found her mutilated body, as he was bringing chocolates for his favorite aunt.

Her body had been severely sliced and diced all over, in an ancient Chinese method of torture called 'Lingchi', meaning 'death by a thousand cuts'. Why would anyone ever hurt such a sweet woman in such a horrible way?

Poor Lucas could still remember all the blood on him, when his knees gave way and he fell into the pools of blood that had stained the tiles beneath Rosalie's cold body.

She was the only one he could really talk to. She listened to him, comforted him, treated him like the son she never had.

Perhaps it was selfish of Lucas to think this way, but now that she was gone, he felt like he was both caged and about to explode. Like a miniature bomb in a tight, enclosed hole, waiting for the time to run out. Waiting for the inevitable explosion.

And then, three months ago, his thirty-year-old brother got into a car accident-- ran into a pole, under no influences of alcohol. He was going through a lot, though no one knew, and he finally let go. Maybe he would now be at peace. But Lucas wasn't.

In his dream, they were both tied against tall, old trees. Trees so withered they looked as if the things they've seen authorized them to bound such hopeless souls. They were tied, with blinking eyeless sockets, and they kept twisting helplessly against their bonds.

Lucas tried to run to them. To scream. But he couldn't move, and when he tried to scream, he felt as if his voice was....broken. Like all he could do was whisper, even though he strained his voice to go louder. To say something, anything, so someone could hear.

Still dreaming, he grasped his throat tightly, wanting to speak up, to be heard, to be free. But all he was....

......Was a paralyzed and voiceless broken little boy who'd seen too much.

Lucas pressed his fingers to his mouth, and found blood on his trembling fingertips as he pulled back.

His lips had been stitched together.

His groans were muffled. His screams sounded like defenseless whimpers.

His eyes widened as he slammed his palms against his ears, trying desperately to block the screams that started once more.

Slits began forming on his brother-- Nathan's neck, and black ooze seeped from Rosalie's old wounds simultaneously, forcing her scars to open up.

Lucas' eyes rolled back into his head, and as he started to fall---

----He awoke.

Lucas gasped, sweat trickling down his forehead and over his eyelids, making his eyes burn and giving the illusion of tears.

He slammed his palms against his ears once more, feeling as though the screams were still echoing in his head.

Only now, they were begging him to join them, wanting him as well, to scream for all he'd been through.

Lucas sat up in his bed, knowing that it would take him a while to fall asleep again. His thoughts wandered through the day's events, to that boy earlier--what's his name---Mason. He figured his brain needed to focus on anything but his recent nightmare.

Even after Lucas took his shoes and gave him a little taste of his blade as a parting gift, the boy still had the nerve to speak to him.

Lucas didn't understand.

Mason spoke like a sissy.

But Lucas saw something... Mason said the things he felt, he said the things Lucas could never say. And somehow, that struck him as rather brave.

Why? because Lucas wanted to talk, wanted to make that everlasting pounding in his head go away, but he couldn't speak up. He just couldn't.

But Mason was different. He was hurt, but he spoke out. And when he felt like he couldn't have been heard, he shouted, no matter the consequences.

Lucas pulled Mason aside from the two of his friends who wanted his shoes, wanting to punch the boy once more. But when he raised his fisted hand, the profusely bleeding cut that marred Mason's pale skin made his hand go weak and fall.

It was a small cut, but deep. A flesh wound. He'd get a scar, and a reminder.

So would Lucas.

The slice in his skin was ever so thin, but bleeding continuously , falling on Mason's lip, then dribbling down his chin in a crooked line. Lucas stood transfixed, till Mason's strained voice pulled him back.

"What's wrong?" he had asked, his eyebrows fusing together.

What's wrong? So many things were wrong. With him, with the world, with this boy asking the demon that hurts him 'what's wrong?'.

And before he knew what he was doing, Lucas found himself leaving his so-called 'friends' and talking with this wimp.

This wimp, out of everyone, was quite easy to open up to, apparently.

This wimp understood him.

After weeks turned into months of talking, sharing, and surprisingly enough, laughing with Mason, this 'wimp' eventually stole the heart of this lost boy.

------6 years into the future------

Lucas was setting up dinner. He was an emancipated teen for a couple of years now, and had recently moved into a new stage of his relationship with his partner: living together.

Tonight would be their anniversary for six years of being together, he was just waiting for---

"Honey, I'm hooome!!!!!" came the sing-song voice in the living room after the door was shut.

Lucas chuckled. "You just love making this whole 'newly living together' thing more awkward than it should be, don't you, Wimp?"

Mason swooned against his Bully's chest and sighed. "I love you..."

Without hesitation, Lucas responded, "I love you, too. More and more each day, if possible..."

Mason gave a sweet smile and tip-toed to kiss his boyfriend's neck. As his tongue touched the warm skin, Lucas grunted.

Mason giggled and pulled away to look his boy in the eyes, a pair of sky-blue eyes brimming with happiness.

"Happy Anniversary, love."

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