Lucas had grown up believing that his soulmate would protect him from the many dangers of the world. The people in his life had made sure of it. His mother told him fairy tales about destined lovers, and his friends daydreamed about the day they found their soulmate. The majority of the teachers in his schools even pushed the idea that true love was the only thing that mattered in life.
Until his mother began dating a man that didn't bare her soulmate mark, he believed every word they said. He couldn't possibly believe that soulmates existed when someone so vile and violent claimed to love them more. The abuse he endured at home was the biggest reason he'd lost all belief, yet the horror stories of his mother's husband seemed to ring true.
He had lost all faith in these supposed destined lovers. He had discovered first hand how it felt to be alone. He learned what it meant to feel unsafe. The only person that had raised him before now had begun siding with the man inflicting pain on them instead of the son she had vowed to protect for as long as they both lived.
It didn't help that Lucas didn't have any friends. The kids at his school weren't comfortable hanging out with the boy whose stepfather rarely let him leave the house. If he wasn't allowed to leave, it meant he was always grounded, right? He was a troubled kid. The new bruises he always seemed to have made their parents skeptical, too. There wasn't a single person (except for a rare few) - his teachers, peers, and their parents - that didn't see him as the boy that got into too many fights. He let them be ignorant. He didn't know how to tell him that he wasn't as much trouble as they thought he was. He didn't know how to tell them that the way he acted in school was his true personality and not just an act.
Lucas had a feeling he would be called a liar if he tried to tell people of the abuse he endured at home. They would call his parents, tell them his silly tale, and his stepfather would tell them he'd make sure he wouldn't do it again. His stepfather would punish him for 'lying' and then he would punish him for telling the truth - for reporting him to some kind of authority. He'd go to school the next day, and he'd go to school with new bruises. The teachers would probably get the hint by then. He'd be freed of the evil man he lived with, and he'd probably be taken from his mom, too.
***
The day he finally gave in and told the teachers, it went a bit like he'd expected. He chose to email them, a desperate, wordy plea. He was almost eighteen when he hit send, but he couldn't wait to leave. Would he even make it to his birthday if he didn't tell someone now? He needed to get out of the house where his stepfather caused him pain, and his mother had abandoned him.
He sent an email to five staff members, three teachers, his principal, and a guidance counselor. He stared at his computer screen for a few minutes, praying to no one for a response of some kind. He started to think the few teachers that cared about him were putting up an act.
The sound of his phone vibrating on the desk in front of him made him jump. His stepdad was attempting to reach him. Much to his reluctance, he answered the phone.
"Yes?" he asked shakily.
"You're needed in the kitchen," his stepfather replied. "You're here in the next five minutes, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir," he said quietly.
Lucas set the phone down once his guardian had hung up, taking a deep breath. Though he'd startled because of the unexpected call, he knew his stepfather would believe he'd done something if he'd heard the tremor in his voice. He had done something, but his teachers probably wouldn't do anything. There was hardly anything new about the situation.
He had made it to the bottom step and into the kitchen when the faint sound of sirens entered his hearing. Lucas tried to hide his sudden fear with an expression of shock. They'd read his email? This was it! He'd be-
"What the Hell did you do?" a knife pressed itself against Lucas's throat. "Why are there sirens coming down our street?"
"They're not for you," he winced when the sirens got louder, only stopping as a door slammed in their driveway. "I didn't-"
Lucas felt the tiniest bit of blood running down his throat, yet he didn't try to fight it. He figured that that was the smart thing to do. The only reason he made any movement was when there was an extremely loud knocking on the front door.
"Go away," his stepfather growled. "There's nothing of your importance here."
"It's the police," someone replied, making the man holding Lucas growled more.
"I said go away!" he screamed.
"It's the police!"
"Go. Away," Lucas felt the knife dig into the flesh on his neck, making more of the sticky, red substance ooze down his neck.
The police simply repeated their words, getting mid sentence this time before they heard a scream. Lucas glanced sideways at his mom as she entered the room. She tried to sprint in his direction.
"Lucas!"
Apparently, that was all the police needed to shoot the door handle. Was that actually legal? Lucas had no idea. He decided he'd look it up at another time. This was hardly a time to think about that. Lucas flinched out of the old man's arms at the sound of the gunshot and tried to run. The police aimed their guns at the older man in the room before glancing at the boy and his mother.HIs gaze flicked back to Jackson hardly a second later.
"Jackson Guy, you are under arrest for the abuse of Lucas Bryce. Anything you say -"
Lucas watched his stepfather lunge at the police. The gun in one of the officers hands fell to the floor and Jackson grabbed for it. Though the punches and kicks he had endured had been painful, the bullet wound just below his heart was incomparable.
***
"Lucas Bryce hasn't had an easy life. His mother married an awful man, and he lost the ability to have a relationship with her because of it," the man leading the funeral glanced over the very small crowd gathered.
"While this event wasn't very public, we wanted to invite the few teachers and staff that Lucas had obviously trusted."
He watched the heads of those few staff members lower their heads, looking a bit sad. These were the people that Lucas had trusted. They had tried to save him, and they could have if not for the gun his awful stepfather had grabbed had been nonexistent. If they had been a little quicker, or done it while he was at school, they could have made sure Lucas had met his soulmate.
They could have made sure he met his savior.
