~°~ LUCAS POV ~°~
"Bye Lucas!" Sarah waved excessively at me.
"Bye," I said with a helpless sigh.
We were at her house, at her front door, less than two feet from each other, but Sarah insisted on yelling goodbye like I was across the street. She'd been doing this since we were kids, and trying to convince her to stop was out of the question.
She gave an amused grin as she always does and went inside. I turned around and started on my way home. Luckily I lived two blocks away so it wasn't a long walk. But with each step the mirth dribbled off my face and a look of melancholy and contemplation appeared. This was my usual expression when I hit default mode. Sarah was the one who made my face muscles bother to put on any other expression.
After a while I reached home; a two story suburban house with two guest bedrooms, one main bedroom, a kitchen, bathroom, dining room, living room and creepy basement. The house was a faded green, the walls had a noticable brick work and a simple patio. We had a small yard with fresh grass, no flowers because my dad was allergic and a driveway where my dad's car was parked.
"Lucy loo, you're back?" A deep voice spoke from under the car.
"Hey Dad," I said and a man came out from under the car.
Floyd Johnson was a thick man with short cut hair, a trimmed black moustache, and hard brown eyes. He wore a faded grey shirt with oil stains and second hand overalls trousers. A wrench was in his left hand and Lucas knew the tool box was somewhere nearby.
"Ha! How's my Lucy loo?" Dad said attempting to rub my head but I sidestepped like a professional amateur boxer.
"Dad, you have oil on your hands and you know what I said about my hair." I said to him but he just raised a brow.
"Yes but I still do not understand this hair business. When I met your mother, I was dirty, oily and sweaty like a hotdog on an oily grill. But she-"
"I know, I've heard the story Dad. She liked you, you liked her, you got married, had three kids and we are now here. " I said softly," Can I go inside now?"
"Don't interrupt me boy." Dad frowned at me and got back under the car," Go on in, and tell you mother to serve up some lunch."
"Yes, sir." I turned away and headed inside.
"Lucas that you?" A voice called from the kitchen as I closed the front door, entering the short passage.
On the left of me was the living room and ahead was the stairs to the second floor.
"Yeah mom," I said walking into the living room," Dad said to serve lunch, he's in a mood again. I just said not to touch my hair, we had this talk last week at the -"
"Lucas you know your father has been really... stressed with the new boss at his workplace replacing Glen. He's not a nice man." Mom said by the kitchen sink, she was hand washing dishes.
We'd had a dish washer before but it was sold, for reasons I'd rather not think about.
"And again, you take his side." I muttered softly and left her.
"Sarah said hi." Was what I said indirectly as I raced up those stairs to the second floor.
I reached the passage where the bathroom and bedrooms were, but I ignored every door and walked to nearly the end of the passage. Above me was a dangling string, I reached up and gave it a tug and an opening appeared as a ladder slid down. I climbed the ladder and gave a small smile as I reached my 'room'.
The attic was spacious, most of its clutter was spread to the sides of the house and the middle was relatively free to put my bed, a desk, a closet, cupboard, lamp and a medium-sized carpet.
That's right, my room was the attic.
It was a simple and crude reason that placed me here.
My mom and dad took the main bedroom, my big brothers took the last two bedrooms respectively. When I had been growing up I had shared a room with Luca, the middle Johnson child, but when I reached 13 years old I became adamant about getting my own space.
My parents thought it was just a phase, but I kept on asking, insisting and nagging. I got some 'discipline' but my head remained head strong on it. I usually didn't stress over anything but wanting a personal space was the only thing that filled my mind that year.
Eventually my parents cracked and my mom said I could sleep in the attic, her idea suited me just fine. The basement was too dank, creepy and very creepy again. My dad disagreed though, saying I was being childish and needed discipline. They argued for weeks, until Luca and Liam both sided with mom and dad conceded.
So no, unlike fantasy stories I'd read, I wasn't trapped here.
This wasn't my prison, it was the exact opposite, this was my safe space.
When I was thirteen, I had seen one of brother's friends take his shirt off and a strange feeling tingled across my senses. I asked Sarah what it was, because... she was Sarah.
We did some research and I figured out that I was gay, which explained my lack of interest girls at school and my urge to sit at the bleachers during lunchtime, to see the jocks playing.
But with that knowledge also came fear, my dad was a very rigid and old fashioned man. Whenever anybody who was obviously not heterosexual got near his line of sight, a look came into his eyes. It was equal measures disgust and contempt.
I didn't want him to look at me like that. Ever. So instead of going out of the closest, I put as much walls as I could between my family and me. If I stayed in Luca's room, I'd have blundered somewhere along the line, but in the attic, here I could breathe.
I was at my desk, it sat below a large circular window that looked down to the street and yard. I reached over to the windowsill and reached under it. There was a small plank that was slammed loosely at the base, and with a twist from my hands it came off. I pulled out a parchment of paper and put it on the desk. It was as wide as pizza box or half a canvas.
An image lay on the parchment, a very distinct and detailed image indeed.
Strong defined muscles attached to strong looking arms seemed to pulse with strength. A broad shouldered frame appearing to carry burdens untold. Lined muscles along the chest , down to the abdomen where a six pack was chiseled as if from the body of a deity. It was a very detailed upper body sketch of a man and I'd been working on it, bit by bit for a long time, maybe a year or two. My first drawings were found by my brothers and a ton of lies made it so that few ever passed into my dad's hands.
My brother's no longer lived here though, Liam was doing a residency at a hospital in another State, whilst Luca was at college three towns over. Although that left their rooms free, I still wouldn't move into them and I think they'd be happy for it. I think. It's been two years since Luca came over, Four years for Liam.
I was the only one still here, much to my mother's delight and my own ... whatever.
I reached under my desk and pulled out a black inked pen and started to draw. I rarely used pencils to sketch, pens seemingly more vivid and lifelike and permanent.
As for the image before me, I wasn't really doing much, highlighting this and adding shade here and there. What the sketch needed though I failed to put, I had been failing for months now. After five minutes I just paused and looked at it with frustration born from artistry and gentle melancholy.
Why you ask?
Because of the one thing the man in the sketch was missing.
Yes the body was perfect, well proportioned and drawn with such detail it could rival Michaelangelo and Leonardo, not to toot my own horn I thought sardonically.
But it was incomplete.
Like a born without a heart.
The man in the sketch...
He had no face.
...
"I heard Sarah's not doing well in geography," Mom said softly at the dinner table.
The dinning room was a medium sized room with deep green wallpaper and black and white tiled floors. It was one of the only three rooms with tiled flooring and where we ate dinner together.
As a family.
My joy could be held in a baby spoon.
For dinner we were having boiled greens, mashed potatoes, roasted chicken and white rice. I ate my meal methodically, knowing the reason for this nice food was because dad was in a sour mood and this was Mom trying to appease him.
"Answer when you're talken to " Dad said with a hard tone.
"It wasn't a question." I muttered under my breath.
"What was that? Real men speak not mutter under their noses. Speak up boy." Dad said crossly.
"Honey it's fine." Mom said placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Can I be excused?" I asked simply.
"No." Dad slammed a hand onto the table," I don't think you remember who raised you but in this house we eat dinner at the same table. You can leave when I'm done eating."
"Lucas, your father is right, but it's okay you can go." Mom said softly and I didn't waste a second.
A minute later I plopped onto my bed just as the sound of a harsh slap echoed down stairs. I didn't wince or react, my eyes faced ahead at the window, watching the distant trees and cloudy sky. After innumerable nights of this, I never bothered to interfere.
Luca always tells me to just wait it out. I've been doing that awhile and it is sickening.
Numbing infact.
A flash of lightning struck the heavens as drops of water started to plummet like the tears I didn't have anymore.
I shut my eyes and sleep freed me into oblivion.