"It is the fate of all of us, perhaps, to direct our first sexual impulse towards our mother and our first hatred and our first murderous wish against our father. Our dreams convince us that this is so."-Sigmund Freud
Nausea rose in Lucas' throat. He stumbled past the metal gates of the field, toward the bus-stop just several yards away. Sweat beaded his forehead, his legs threatened to give out underneath him. It always ended this way. No matter the girl, no matter how much he wanted to fight the urge.
A horrified scream pierced the air as the main stage grew quiet. The band had just finished their set, someone must have spotted her. He wouldn't stay to see, he had a bus to catch. He reached the stop just in time, the city bus pulled up to the curb. The air breaks puffed as it halted a couple feet in front of him.
Lucas settled into a seat toward the back of the bus once he'd flashed the driver his student ID. He closed his eyes in an attempt to quell the now overwhelming sickness that seemed to be consuming him. His head felt like it was spinning. An ambulance whined past the bus, no doubt carrying his latest victim. Maybe I didn't kill her, maybe she has a chance. Even as he comforted himself, he knew the truth.
That sinister voice in the back of his head laughed uncontrollably. He knew the truth too. He'd been there every time it happened.
"She's just going to hurt you. She's just like the others." He'd hiss in Lucas' ear. "You're doing the world a favor, getting rid of a temptress like that."
Lucas would always try in vain to fight it. He would always lose. And afterwards the taunting would eventually return. In the last 6 years he still hadn't figured out how to shut him up. He'd never figured out how to stop him. Moving away hadn't helped. Isolating himself hadn't helped. He'd always been with him, haunting him since the ripe age of fourteen.
"You're thinking about her again aren't you?" It said, an amused tone cutting off his laughter. No, I'm not...just shut up! Can we at least make it back to my apartment? He tried to focus his thoughts elsewhere.
"Oh please! I can read you like a book! Every single time we do this... it's a Freudian slip right back to mommy. You're so pathetic!" It sneered. Lucas shifted around in his seat, unable to get comfortable against the plastic molded bench. The laughing started again. Lucas sighed.
His mind was on his mother, conflicted over wanting to remember her, and wanting to forget what he had done. He couldn't have it both ways. He'd always looked up to his mother, such a strong, beautiful woman she was. For so long it had been just the two of them. Mom and son, versus the world! He'd liked it that way. He was the apple of her eye, and to Lucas, she was a goddess. Then Hank came along...not long after Lucas' fourteenth birthday.
"I remember that...that's when I came along!" It snickered. "I remember what we did to Hank too! You can't say you didn't enjoy that Lucas...we both knew he deserved it."
The visuals of that night a year later flashed through Lucas' mind. He still couldn't figure out how his lanky fifteen year old body had managed to swing an axe like that. Him and Hank had been standing in his mother's barn. Hank had wanted to pull Lucas aside, tell him he was going to propose to his mother.
"But you can't marry her!" He'd protested, his vision growing hazy.
"Listen you little shit, I wasn't asking your permission! I've been doing my best to try and have a relationship with you, but I sure as hell ain't letting you get in the way of mine and your mother's happiness."
"You can't make her happy..." Lucas growled. That's right... the voice purred in his ear. His eyes fixated on Hank.
"Your mother and I are in love kid...so you better get used to it. And this talking back shit better change real fast!" Hank crossed his arms, his stance still towering over Lucas.
"You're not my father. You can't tell me what I can or can't do, asshole!" The voice laughed as Lucas' awkward adolescent legs foundered, sending him backwards against the dirt, next to the axe.
Hank laughed too. "You're right...I'm not your father. With a son like you, no wonder he ran off!." He leaned forward, his hands on his knees as he guffawed at his own "clever" joke. You should shut this asshole up, Lucas, the voice growled. Hank's laughter was replaced with choking, his amused expression traded for that of shock and disbelief as the blade effortlessly sliced through his throat. Finish him!
Lucas stood over Hank, the axe raised above his head as he watched the blood spurt from the deep gash in Hank's neck. Hank's eyes were full of horror, all he could see in Lucas' was pitch black rage. I told you to finish him!
A savage growl escaped Lucas' body as the blade swung down, slicing open Hank's abdomen. Then again, across his face. And again...and again...and again. He'd been too frenzied in his blood-lust for the sounds of the barn door opening to even register in his brain.
"Lucas!" His mother's voice broke him from his spell. The axe dropped from his hand and he turned to her, blood dripping from face and arms. She stood frozen, her eyes taking in the scene before her. Hank's mangled body, her son covered in Hank's blood.
"He didn't deserve you...he wanted to take you away from me." Tears flooded his eyes as he reached out for his mother, something he'd done so many times before. But her arms recoiled in horror, her eyes only conveyed disgust. "Mother?"
"No...don't say that. You're not my son....you're not my Lucas!" She backed away as he moved closer. He shook his head, unable to process what she was saying. How could she say something so hurtful? He had saved her. This must be a mistake. Get her!
Lucas obeyed the voice, running after his mother, she was halfway to their house as she ran through the dark field. He screamed for her but she refused to look back, her legs running as fast as they could go. But it wasn't fast enough. The distance between them closed as he reached for her arm, both of them tumbling to the ground. Her hands beat against his chest as she screamed. Pinned to the ground, she was helpless as his hands closed around her throat.
"I knew you were thinking about it, Lucas" The satisfied smugness in it's voice grated him. He cringed, nausea nearly overwhelming him as his mind mulled over that night. His eyes looked up as the bus halted to a stop once more, relief sweeping over him, if only momentarily as his apartment building came into view.
He stepped off of the bus, and hastily made his way to his building. His earlier ailments only seemed to worsen the closer he got. Lucas had a history of blacking out, it always started the same way. All he wanted was to make it to his apartment before it hit him, unfortunately, he only made it to the steps in front of his building.
"He's waking up!" A soft feminine voice called out to someone as Lucas opened his eyes. A couple paramedics rushed over to him. Before he could fully remember where he was, a penlight was being shined into his pupils. Someone else grabbed his wrist, checking his pulse.
"Wh-what's going on?" His voice felt unsteady as he tried to focus his eyes.
"You passed out on the stairs. No concussion, but you fell pretty hard. You were out for a few." A male paramedic said to him as he continued to assess him. "If you want we can take you to the hospital, to get checked out further."
"No, I'm fine...." He attempted to stand up.
"Whoa there fella." The same girl's voice giggled. He looked at the brunette with freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose. She held onto his arm, helping him to steady himself. "You need help getting home, Lucas?" He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sound of his name.
"I'm just in this building... I think I'll be okay....thank you...um"
"Kay, my name's Kay. I'm in your Biology class... and I also live here" She motioned toward his apartment building, obviously she was set on walking him in anyways. He nodded toward the paramedics, then walked with her into the building. The voice started laughing again.