For The Moon

luke

"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."

        It's always been like that: the constant reminder of who the true enemy was. Everything is gone and everyone is fending off for themselves; Luke does not know where to go or who to trust, not even what to do. He stands in the middle of the crossing: empty roads and avenues; abandoned cars and buildings; homes burned to ashes.

        Sometimes, Luke gets carried away. There's one last piece of the meal and he often loses his temper (he's never had any real patience growing up-everything was a blur) and challenges whoever pines for the last serving. Luke is strong and tall with well-built muscles he'd gained after chaos erupted.

        He takes a step closer, until his face is inches from another's. He knows he shouldn't do it-they're both just hopeless and desperate. But he does anyway, he takes a swing and his knuckles collide with bones, his feet kick against already-broken ribs. He can't find it in himself to stop.

"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."

        People say it over and over again, especially when they see his eyes burning with anger and hatred, his fist numb with pain and his hand clutching onto blood-stained shirt. He breathes heavily and he closes his eyes; his jaw still clenched, his hands still shaking, his lungs sore and exhausted. And then he lets go, walks off without the meal.

        Luke was never a bad person. He just happened to be in a bad place. So many bad things happened to those who didn't deserve it, he knows it shouldn't have been this way. He was never meant to be this way.

"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."

        Someone runs after him. He looks down and feels his stomach do somersaults, flips and cartwheels (it's not a good feeling; he decides he doesn't like it). His feet hang, swinging against the strong winds, waiting to take him away.

        Someone pants and skids to a stop. He looks up: there is a flash of bright hair, a necklace hanging down her chest, her eyes are filled with worry.

        "Luke."

        He doesn't know how she knows his name. He doesn't know who she is. He doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know what day it is-it could be his birthday for all he knew. He doesn't know what time it is. He doesn't know why he's doing this. Luke just doesn't know a lot of things at the moment.

        "Luke, don't do this."

        "I'm sorry," he says. He doesn't like the way his heart is beating-hammering and drumming against his chest.

"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."
"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."
"Remember who the real enemy is, Luke."

        And then he does.

        There is a scream and he feels his body going numb against the cold and then there is nothing.

He doesn't know a lot of things, but he knows he's always been his own enemy.