Author's Note: Yes, this is really happening. A third update in less than twelve hours. I am really enjoying this story and have nothing but the best to come following this installment. More Luke and Dick.
Luke 4
Old wounds flare up around three in the morning. The bullet scar on my shoulder, a clean through and through job from my step-dad's pistol, feels like it's on fire and likely to burn me up from the inside out. Then there's aching on my knees where he tried to shatter them with steel toe-capped boots. I feel lethargic and vulnerable as I get to my feet. Every step is like a test of wills and a reminder of just how much I have endured. I go downstairs and ransack the medicine cabinet, grabbing ibuprofen and painkillers like they're candy and down them like a five-year-old on a sugar rush. Then I lie on the floor for a while, waiting for my pain to disappear as the drugs take their hold on my brain.
I feel fine after about fifteen minutes and get myself back on my feet. Linda is in the doorway in her dressing gown. I want my shiv but it's up in my room and out of reach. She's holding a blanket in her hands and I know it's meant for me. I put my underwear back on before coming down because I thought I heard her shuffling around; she got a fright last time.
"Hurting again Honey?" She asks and for once meaning it. I shake my head.
"Not anymore Linda. I'm fine."
"Well you look a little cold standing there so here." She drapes the blanket round my shoulders and pulls it into my chest. I am cold I guess so I nod.
"Thanks. I gotta go to bed now. Night." When I go to walk past her, she stops me with her hand. She's got soft hands, gentle too. I would love to just…jeez I don't know…cut her fingers off or something.
"I've got some chamomile tea in the cupboard, honey too. It might help you sleep a little better. Come on, let's have a cup together."
Five minutes and a boiled kettle later, we're sat at the kitchen table stirring honey into cups of sweet-smelling tea. Linda is trying to connect with me. She's tried dozens of times before now, but I don't take the bait, or at least I haven't until now. She's afraid of me because she knows I feel nothing for her or Charlie. She's afraid that one night I'll just kill them both and she won't see it coming. What does she expect me to do? I can't entertain myself with ideas of letting her live comfortably under the same roof as me. I need her to be afraid of me. Because I am lethal and I am crazy and I am indifferent. But I sip the tea and I let her think for just a moment that we can connect.
"How's your tea?" She asks me to break the awkward silence of our usual exchanges. I shrug.
"It's okay."
"Your mom ever make tea for you like this?"
"She wasn't allowed. He wouldn't let her."
"Are all those scars from him?" She asks gesturing to no part of my torso in particular. I'm just a road map of cigarette burns, knife wounds, scarring mounds and the other remnants of my violent past. I don't notice them anymore even if I remember the story of each single one. I shake my head.
"Nope. I'm responsible for a few of them. Suicide attempts mostly. These knife wounds here," I tell her circling the cluster of scars near my sternum, "These were me trying to stab myself in the heart. I managed to puncture a lung, but nothing else." They're not lies or even exaggerations; everything I tell her is the truth. She has no words for most of it and that's fine by me. We drink the rest of our tea in silence. When I leave to go to bed, she has the courage to kiss my cheek and hug me gingerly. She's bold, I'll give her that.
"You'll be okay Honey. Just give it a little more time." She says before I disappear back into the dark. I will NEVER be okay even if I had forever…and I don't.
Charlie makes sure I swallow the pills before school, every one individually and he checks underneath my tongue. He isn't taking any chances now. I don't feel great as he drops me off, sort of hazy and funny inside. When I go to gym class for first period, Dick's already in the locker room but he isn't getting changed. He's sat on the bench surrounded by big, strong-looking jocks, the kind I'm infamous for sending to the emergency room. They're talking and laughing and I keep my distance. I'm fumbling through my gym clothes and not really getting anywhere when Dick comes over.
"Hey Luke." He says leaning against the row of lockers. He smiles at me in a way that I can't respond to. It's not because I don't want to, but because with the drugs in my system I'm incapable of it. I hate myself being this way. I nod.
"Hi Dick."
"How was yesterday?"
"Good thanks. How are you? You're better now?"
"Yeah lots, but I can't do Gym with my shoulder like it is. It kinda sucks." He says before seeming to notice my difficulties with my gym shorts. "Are you okay? You seem a little spacey." I go to answer before I have an idea. I cut away to the stalls and hunch myself over a sink. I ram two fingers down my throat and instinctively vomit up the contents of my stomach. I count four partially dissolved pills amongst the half-digested porridge oats and toast before washing them into oblivion. It's not all of them, but it's better than nothing. I take a few moments and feel myself thinking about hacking Brunswick's face off with a lot more intention and clarity. I still feel slow and addled, but capable. When I return to the locker room, Dick is still waiting for me. "You alright?" I manage a smile.
"Never better."
Dodge ball on pills is not great. I get hit with every ball going and am too slow to get off court before getting pummeled again. Dick is watching from the bleachers and trying to be supportive. It means something. After an hour of what would be torture for most kids but amounted to little more than foreplay for me, it's shower time.
One of the jocks, Gordy Howe, gets in my face back in the locker room. He's a big bastard and very heavily muscled, must outweigh me by nearly seventy pounds. He slams me against the lockers to bring everyone in the place swarming on our location. They form the usual ring of steel around us and begin whooping and jeering like a pack of retarded monkeys as Gordy threatens to strip me naked and parade me around the school. Dick pushes himself to the front and tries to get between us only to be dragged back by four of Gordy's admirers. I think they just hurt his shoulder and I've just about had enough.
I only do one thing, but it's the only thing I need to do. I side-step to his left and jam my heel into the back of his right knee with enough power to bring him to the floor. Before he can try to move I swivel my heel further into the joint and bring my mouth to his ear. "You make one stupid move and I will permanently damage all the ligaments in your knee. You can say goodbye to your football scholarship and professional playing career if I do. You call it quits now and then attack when I let you go and you can go the rest of the life without your eyes because I will gouge them out while you sleep. We clear Gordy?" I whisper. Gordy nods.
"I'm not going anywhere near you ever again, I swear." He answers. I'm not convinced. I know his type. The only reason the others left me alone is because I scarred them for life; I should just do the same to this asshole. It's not like I care.
"Yeah well, let's make sure huh?" I'm about to tear his ligaments when Dick's hand falls on my shoulder. He looks at me with pleading eyes full of hope like Charlie's that I won't make things worse for myself.
"Just let him go, Luke. You don't need this on your third day. Let's go, come on." He says. He knows what I'm about to do and how damaging the injury can be. I relent. The crowd goes quiet and then disperses. Somewhere along the way, Gordy fades into the ether with the rest of them. The drugs have almost totally worn off now and I'm lucidly myself again. I turn to Dick.
"Did they make it worse?" I ask pointing to his shoulder. He shakes his head. I feel relief and never want the sensation to end. I nod before gesturing to the showers, "I'll go cool off. Wait for me?"
"Sure thing."
Everyone gives me a wide berth for the rest of the morning. By the time lunch comes around, they all ease up a little and draw back in. Gordy offers me and Dick a place at his table in the cafeteria, but Dick politely declines for us both. He wants to talk to me in private. We head for the basketball courts near the front gate.
"Alfred told me you two had a meeting the other day." He starts before reluctantly adding, "He said it didn't go too well."
"Hey look I apologized to him. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was concerned. I'm sorry." I respond with the utmost sincerity. Dick sighs.
"He told me about your upbringing." He says before shaking his head. "I'm kind of not sure what I can and can't say to you right now. I mean, he says you shanked a kid in Juvie for taking the last tapioca pudding. He said that kid nearly died of internal bleeding and you just…demanded your pudding." That's a little over the top; I didn't shank the kid. I just beat him unconscious with my lunch tray and it was chocolate not tapioca pudding. I fucking hate tapioca.
"I'm not naturally a bad kid, Dick. My step-dad just made me seem that way. I've just never known any other way to be. I'm trying though. I really am trying to change. If you hadn't been there today, I would've just crushed Gordy's kneecap like my step-dad did to me, but you stopped me. You said don't and I listened. I never used to listen, but now I do. So I can change, right?" I'm skirting close to the edge here. That little speech is close to the truth, but not quite. I love Dick and I want to know his secret. Do I want to be normal? If it means getting closer to him I'll damn sure try. I'm not happy with who I am, no, but I'm not just going to give up what I've got for the chance of being accepted. This puzzle of what Dick's hiding can't be solved without my mind's sharpness and that razor's edge of thinking comes from being an abused, violent kid with some severe attachment issues.
"I know you're trying Luke. I just don't know how to help you. I've never…met anyone like you who wasn't in a straightjacket or behind bars." I take hold of his hand with both of mine and squeeze it gently. He gives me his undivided attention.
"Just be my friend, Dick. I'm not the possessive kind or the needy kind of loser you might find stalking you at night. I just want to have someone I can talk to and someone I can connect with. I don't have to see you every day to function and I don't want you to try and understand what makes me tick. I don't want you to help me; I just want a friend. I'd beg you if I was pathetic enough, but I'll just ask you: please be my friend?" I let him hand go and let mine retreat back into my jacket pockets. I wait while he considers. He mulls it over for a long time. I start to grow convinced I'm about to suffer rejection.
Then he opens his mouth to reply and my heart skips a step with his answer.
Everything changes.
Author's Note: Bruce is coming next!