Meet Me in the Middle

Chapter 2: Luke

My classmates would always joke that I was spoiled and I needed to get out of my shell more as a child. I wanted to go out and just be a kid with people my age, playing in the grass and having no care in the world but I was always seemingly stuck in my head; thinking of what could and what will.

I know, very idealistic child thinking he's gonna make it big in the future.

So, instead of joining my other friends run back and forth playing tag outside. I sat at my desk and drew them, seemingly enjoying the process more than actually being down there. It's not like I could sustain the energy that they have and play with them as long as they could.

Along with my father's stubbornness, the gods also cursed me with the same familial genes that make it difficult for me to do the extremities a boy my age should be doing. Trust me, running with an apparent hole in your heart isn't the most fun experience in the world. But mild stresses like that didn't stop me from doing what I loved, so I drew and drew, making fantastical comics of aliens and guns and outer space. It was my ticket to freedom.

With pencil in hand, I could finally do what my friends could plus more.

So all through the afternoon into the wee hours of the night, I sketched our adventures together. Rock climbing in the Alps turns into discovering a secret treasure trove full of gold and jewels but there's a catch, a mystical spirit is trapped within the confines of the cave that we had to fight to the death for freedom and peace.

I fell asleep on my desk after that, a common occurrence as weekly sketches turned into a daily routine I kept up with.

Art became the solace I turned to when things started becoming sour. My parents fought almost every day, mom's sobs coupled with my dad's complaints about work and stress vibrating through the thin walls of our house. I made the mistake of going downstairs that one time because I needed to pee.

"You can't keep doing this to me, Nick!" my mom complained. I regretted ever stepping down in the first place, my lips became dry and my hands sweaty with fear and nervousness.

"I told you that was just a one-time thing, Carol and I did nothing wrong so stop bitching about it and let me watch my show in peace!" I heard my dad reply, growing frustration evident in his tone.

Realizing it'd be a grave mistake if I booked it into the bathroom, I started tiptoeing backward towards the stairs.

Being as careful as I can not to draw attention to my presence, but the heavens that evening probably weren't in my favor as taking a step back, I accidentally bumped into a vase just beside the railings; almost shattering in return as I quickly shambled and tried to catch it with my small arms.

Then silence. You could almost hear a pin drop as the only noise coming from any area of the house was of my own doing.

"Luke, what are doing up so late?" I heard my dad's voice out. The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood up, I swore I could've peed right then and there.

"Nothing, I was just about to pee-" I hastily replied.

"Honey, go back to your room. Your father and I are discussing, important matters" My mom cut me off, glaring at me with daggers in her eyes as she then fixated her gaze on my dad.

"Goddamnit!" I heard my dad snap, standing up and abruptly slamming his half-filled glass filled with what I assume was liquor down on the table. "Can you both shut up!?"

"Ni-" my mom started, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I've had it with you, woman!" my dad lifted his hand at my mom who was now sitting in shock as tears slowly started to fall down her cheeks. He didn't hit her, though.

An uneasy silence fell in the living room for a while, I was sure I could hear my mom hyperventilating and my dad wide-eyed staring at her and back at his hand.

"D-Dad-" I broke the silence, a wrong move on my part.

"And you!-" he turned his attention on me, rage blurring his vision and seeping into his words. "Go back to your room, you useless piece of shit!"

I locked myself in my room that night. Mom tried knocking on my door, I could hear her whispers.

everything's going to be okay.

your dad didn't mean it, he just had a rough day that's all.

can you open the door for me?

I regretted not opening the door for her that day. As much as I was heartbroken at my dad's indifference and harsh exclamation of words, I was sure she was suffering more than she let on. I heard her quiet sobs behind my door, and she heard mine as well.

I fell asleep that night with a second vow I wanted to take, that I would never be like him.

I could never be like him.