Nothing.
When my eyes once again grew heavy, the enraged voices cut through the night.
They came from next door.
The Carter house.
Flinging the bed sheets off, I padded over to the window, searching the adjacent room for any sign of Lucas.
His bedroom was dark, yet with the soft silver glow of the moon, I could just make out a moving figure.
“Lucas!” I gently called. The figure continued moving, unresponsive to my voice. “Lucas!” I called again. This time, whoever it was stopped what they were doing and stepped toward the window.
His face was marred with sadness. The Lucas I knew and loved was slipping away.
Pressing his fingers to his lips, he signaled for me to remain quiet. Nodding, I penned a note to send across.
He waited silent and still until the peg reached him, the cat bell dinging along the way. I watched as he read the note and quickly replied. Beneath us, the shouting continued. I could hear Lucas’s mom, her voice strained and hurt. The other voice belonged to a man I didn’t know. He was irate, possibly drunk and didn’t hold back on cussing.
My heart pounded in my chest as the note made its journey back. Unfolding the thick textured paper I’d chosen from the stationery shop, I read his message, his writing lacking its normal neatness under mine.
Are you ok?
Can you meet me on the roof?
Scrunching the note, I met his pained eyes and nodded. He took a step back, disappearing from the window and melting into darkness. Treading quietly on the floorboards despite hearing my parents howling with laughter beneath me, I crept through the upstairs hall to the study. Only a few inches shy of the study’s window was the thick branch of an oak tree that sat deeply rooted on our side of the drive. Bum on the window sill, I swung my legs until my feet touched the smooth bark of the oak. I wasn’t scared to climb it, I’d done the very same thing since I was a child. Using the top branch for balance, I walked the length of the tree like a gymnast, skirting around the trunk when it came time. Once on the other side, I could step right out onto the Carter’s porch roof where I would meet Lucas. He was already waiting, hand extended to pull me up to the highest peak of the roof. That was always the hardest part due to the steep incline, and impossible to do on my own. He heaved me up until I was sitting next to him staring out over the sleepy neighborhood. The only noise emanated from below.
I took Lucas’s hand in mind and held it tight. It was unusually cold and clammy. My concerned gaze met only with his profile. He wouldn’t turn and look at me. Instead, he kept his steady stare glued on nothing in particular. His mind was elsewhere, lost to the darkness.
In that moment, I realized Lucas Carter’s life was forever changing. Changing for the worse.
“Who’s that with your mom?” I asked gently, my thumb rhythmically gliding over his.
In the moonlight, I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard.
“Her new guy,” he said as if detesting the very thought.
On Mason’s insistence, Lucas had stopped talking about his family when his dad left. He would simply change the subject if ever I tried to broach it. Without realizing, I squeezed his hand and brought it to my lap where I could hold it with both hands. It was then I noticed the heavy bruising extending from Lucas’s wrist to the inside of his elbow. Reckless fingerprints marring his skin that not even the shadows of the night could hide.
“Did your mom’s boyfriend do this to you?”
No answer.
“Lucas, is your mom’s boyfriend doing this to you?”
This time he gave a curt nod but continued to look the other way.
“And that time we found the cabin? Did he give you those, too?”
Another nod.
Grief had long left me. Now I was consumed with pure unadulterated rage.
“I was trying to protect my mom,” he started in a low voice. “But that only seemed to make the situation worse. It made him angrier.” I noticed he refrained from saying the man’s name. For good reason.
“Why’s your mom allowing him to stay?” I asked, incredulous that she would put her sons’ lives in danger.
“He comes and he goes. When he comes, Mom greets him with a big smile, and they lock themselves away in her room for days. He doesn’t say a word to Mason or me. Then the drinking starts, and he suddenly believes Mom’s his worst enemy. He doesn’t like the way the food is cooked. He doesn’t like what she’s wearing. He hates that she has two boys who come home from school every day. He hates that we try to protect her. He hits her and makes her cry. But then when he leaves, she cries some more. She locks herself away in her bedroom again until the day he walks back through the door.”
My stomach churned, feeling at a loss for what to say or do. My best friend was suffering, and he’d been keeping it quiet for the sake of holding the family together.
“Your dad isn’t coming back?”
Lucas shook his head slowly. “Haven’t seen him since he left. A man that walks out like that surely doesn’t care much anyway.”
The shouting beneath us intensified. The sound of glass shattering on tiles was followed by the splintering of wood, almost like a fist going through the kitchen cupboards. Lucas flinched while we listened to his mother cry.
I started to cry and swiped angrily at the tears.
“Where’s Mason?” I stammered.
“Nursing a bloodied nose in the bathroom.”
“Lucas!” A gravelly voice, one that carried a heavy burden, barked from behind. We turned in unison to see Mason standing at the attic window, eyes narrowed, nose swollen and still bloody, and a bruised cheek that had come into contact with an angry fist. I hadn’t seen it before because of how we’d been sitting, but Lucas’s right cheek was also bruised, a long, messy wound traveling the length of the bone. It looked as if a ring had torn at his flesh.
Tentatively, I touched his face and for a brief moment, he closed his eyes and leaned into my touch. “Lucas,” I sobbed, “he can’t get away with this. I’ll tell my parents everything. They’ll get—”
“Lucas! Get inside,” Mason warned.
“You should go,” Lucas nervously whispered.
“Come home with me. Please,” I begged. But Lucas would never leave his family in this condition. He’d take his last breath fighting for what he believed in.
Solemnly, he nodded. “My mom… you know I can’t.” He gave a small, sad smile, his pinkie grazing mine. “Bye, Gem.”
He was on his feet, carefully navigating the roof before I could forge a reply. Mason moved to the side while Lucas climbed through the attic window. With my best friend disappearing back into his volatile house, Mason re-emerged.
“Go home, Gem,” he said sternly.
“Mason, are you okay?” That was a stupid question. Of course, he wasn’t okay. I was nervous and scared. “My mom… she can see to your face if you… want?” I asked, tentatively.
While Lucas carried the hurt, Mason carried the anger and the burden of his crumbling family. He was hardened by it all. His stony demeanor accentuated by the eerie moonlight made him look simply terrifying.
“Are you deaf? I said, you need to leave,” he responded through clenched teeth.
“Fine...” I raised my hand to placate him, “… I’m going.” Swallowing hard, I prepared to slide down to the porch roof when his low and husky voice stopped me.
“Gemma.”
I glanced over my shoulder and met the glistening whites of his eyes.
“Yes?”
“Stay out of my family’s business.”