The Unexpected Path

Chapter 1 - Lucas

I flop down on my bed, throwing an arm over my eyes. For the millionth fucking time I find myself wishing I could erase my memory and go back to when things were normal. My throat locks up again and I swallow hard, grateful no one can see me right now.

Five months ago my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.

It's in the genes, she told our family when we found out. Her mother had it and her grandmother had it and now she has it. She has breast cancer and every fucking day I want to die so she won't have to.

She says to be optimistic and that she's fighting hard. I know she is. She started chemo a month ago and even though it's painful she puts on a brave face for all of us. She's losing her hair but every time she pulls out a chunk of it she laughs like it's the funniest thing in the world. She randomly gets dizzy or breathless or weak and insists she's just being dramatic. Her optimism pisses the living fuck out of me but how am I supposed to be mad at her?

Enter Dad. The asshole that found out weeks before he told his kids. I know Mom asked him to keep that secret because she didn't want us to get distracted from our studies, or so she claims, but again, how the fuck am I supposed to be mad at her? She's the one with the fucking cancer. Besides, when Dad looked me in the eye and told me, kept a straight face as he admitted he'd been lying to me for weeks, every ounce of anger and pain I felt had nowhere to go except at him. Now that anger is only getting worse because Mom is getting worse so yeah, I fucking hate the guy. Bite me.

I've been a miserable piece of shit and I have no interest in turning myself around. Why do I owe anyone shit? My mother is getting sicker in front of my eyes and I have to put on a nice face so I don't offend anyone with my attitude? Fuck that. These people are lucky enough they have healthy parents so what the hell else do they need? They can live if I'm not exactly the nicest guy alive. I don't give two fucks if I'm picking fights, or fucking senseless, or failing school. None of it matters. Nothing matters anymore.

"Fuck!" I sit up and kick my mini-fridge as hard as I can. It shakes violently and falls over, making a loud crashing noise that everyone on this floor probably heard. But I'm not done yet. I grab all my textbooks and launch them at the wall one by one. I throw hard enough that there are cracks where the textbooks hit, the painting and plaster chipping away until there's a gaping hole. It's somehow not enough. I kick the frame of my bed over and over again, my face growing warm with anger and frustration. "Motherfucker! Fuck this!"

I push my hands through my hair and sink to the floor, breathing hard and fast. It's been a long time since I've felt in control of myself. I'm falling apart in front of my own eyes and I don't know how to stop it. I don't know how to stop myself from becoming this person who's cold and uncaring and so fucked up. But the thing is I don't even want to learn. I don't want to stop it because not giving a shit about anything is the only way I know how to block out this pain. I'll do anything to not feel the pain.

There's a knock on the door and my anger increases tenfold. Two minutes. Two fucking minutes to myself so I can feel whatever the fuck I want to feel. Why is that so much to goddamn ask for?

"Go the fuck away," I snarl.

"Open up!" It's a man's voice and I don't recognize it. "We're getting noise complaints. What's going on in there?"

Noise complaints? Fucking seriously? These people party until four am with music loud enough to melt your eardrums but me losing my shit in my room gets noise complaints? This is why I fucking hate the world and everyone in it. Everyone is selfish and only gives a fuck about themselves.

I get to my feet and stalk to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. A guy in security uniform is standing in front of me with his arms crossed, looking pretty fucking sure of himself. Until I grab him by his throat and slam him against the wall. I tighten my grip around his fingers and lift him up until his feet are dangling off the ground. Guy is shorter than me so I take him up to eye-level and sneer.