Authors Note:

This chapter will be a heavier read, as poor Lucas doesn't have the best home-life. Please be aware it will contain scenes showing verbal and physical abuse. If these are triggering things for you, please skip this chapter, or read at your own risk. As an individual who grew up in an abusive household, this was a difficult chapter to write, but I hope it will give you more insight Lucas and some things are just required to propel the plot forward! I promise next chapter will be a more laidback read. Thanks again for your support, please let me know how you liked this chapter. Take care lovely readers. -Quill

"Lucas!"

Dad's gruff, angry voice tore me from my dreams.

"W-what?" I babbled sleepily, jolting upright in bed. I'd not had the chance yet to rub the sand from my eyes before I felt a sudden burst of pain radiating across my face.

Dad's hand.

"Wake the fuck up, you goddamned thief!" he roared.

Woke I did. I sat up and looked wildly around my room to try and register what was happening. Dad's hulking frame is stood there, looming over the side of my bed, while my side-table drawer has been thrown open, Penny's cash fisted in his large hand. He's seething with anger.

"What? What'd I do?" I dare to ask, reaching up to cup my burning cheek.

"Fucking get out of your fucking bed, and stand in front of me, Lucas!"

I just stared at dad, glancing nervously between the cash in his hand and his expression.

Did he find out about Penny cheating? Did she throw me under the bus?

Dad clenches his fists, "Lucas Andrew Price, are you deaf? Get your fucking ass out of bed... now, or I'll fucking drag you out by the fucking throat."

"Y-yes, yes, I heard you Sir, yes! Yes..." I stutter repeatedly, scrambling out of bed onto the floorboards.

"Look at me." He hisses, and I do.

Dad holds out the cash in his hand and waves it in front of my face. "A little birdie told me she was missing some money from her wallet this morning. Fucking explain yourself before I beat you senseless."

My eyes widened with shock. Penny. That fucking bitch! That lying, STD-infested, rotten cunt of a bitch.

Fuck, I really should've known better than to think our little confrontation last night was over.

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. If I tell dad the truth, he'll beat me, and he may not even believe me. If I don't tell the truth, he's still going to beat me. It's a lose-lose situation either way, but I'm tempted to take Penny's lying ass down with me.

"Well?" He growls, his dark eyes burning a hole in my face.

"Penny's a fucking liar..."

"What the fuck did you just say?" He snaps and steps closer.

I swallowed hard and stumbled backwards, bumping into the side of my bed, but I decided I wasn't going to let Penny put this shit on me. Fuck that bitch.

I cleared my throat and spoke louder. "I said your girlfriend is a liar, Pete."

The sound of dad's hand meeting my cheek echoed in the room once again, pain rushing through my face. My skin stings, and it feels hot, only burning the wake of his "discipline." My eyes began to water but I refused to cry, not in front of him. I reach up and cradle my face, chest heaving as I sucked in breaths in response.

"Don't fucking play smart with me, ungrateful little fucker, and don't you fucking use my name as if we are equals!" Dad says, smacking me upside the head for good measure.

"I'm not lying!" I retort. "Penny fucking brought some dude over last night and fucked him while you were gone, Dad. Only problem for her, is that I was home and heard it all!" I press, balling my fists in resolve. I'm fully committed now. Dad's eyes narrow, and his mouth forms a tight line. He gazes at me long and hard, but says nothing, so I continue. "Penny stormed into my room, and fucking tried to keep me quiet about it! I told that fucking bitch if she wanted me to stay quiet, she better fucking pay me, and so she did."

His eyes widen, and he crumples the cash in hand. Several tense moments pass before he growls, "keep fucking talking."

"So, I didn't steal anything!" I press. "She fucking paid me off, Dad. Penny's a fucking cunt, and she even told him to come over next Wednesday when you were working late again! I heard the whole conversation."

Dad crosses his arms and sighs but again says nothing, only studies me.

It felt like an eternity sitting there, an eternity under his burning gaze, an eternity under his broad frame... an eternity waiting to feel the wrath of his burgeoning rage to come down on me.

"And why should I believe you, Lucas?"

I swallow hard, wishing I could scream the words, "because I'm your son!", but I don't. Dad pumped his sperm into my mom, but he never wanted me, and never loved me. The word "son" means nothing to him, in fact, he'd pushed her to get rid of me. My mom might be a junkie, but she loved me enough to let me live, and as shitty as my life has been, I'm so thankful she did. Someday I'll get out of this godforsaken place, and away from my "dad".

Someday I'll be free, safe, and happy. It's a promise I've made myself, and nobody can tell me otherwise.

"Lucas Andrew, don't make me fucking ask your sorry ass again."

"B-because I wouldn't lie about a thing like this, dad! I really saw Penny with that guy, I heard them make plans to fuck again. I saw and heard her offer to 'throw in something special' if he paid her a little extra 'next time'. I wouldn't lie about this! Your girlfriend, on the other hand, would. Check her laundry! That fucking ugly hot pink lingerie she was wearing last night is probably still in there, and I bet it reeks of his fucking jizz."

Dad sucks in sharply and takes another step closer. He's towering over me.

"What was his name?"

"Jim. Didn't catch a last name, though. He parked down the street so his car wouldn't be seen in our driveway." I spit out, hoping my unwavering eye-contact will make him believe me.

"And when is 'Jim' coming back?" He hisses, and I can feel his liquor-tinged breath fanning my face. It takes everything not to wrinkle my face and retract in disgust.

"Next Wednesday evening, when you're supposed to be working late... like I said."

"I see." he says curtly, turning around abruptly. I look on in anxiety as he paces around my room, pausing to study some of my posters and pictures as he thinks. Dad stops at my backpack, and looks through it in silence, and picks up one of my textbooks.

Chemistry.

"Y-you believe me, right?" I murmur softly, holding myself as I watch him shove the cash in his pocket, and test the weight of the text against his other hand.

Fuck.

"Yes, Lucas. I believe you." Nausea rises in my gut while I watch him tap my textbook against his other hand in thought. His gaze doesn't leave me.

"I'm just wondering why you agreed to keep her secret." he says calmly.

I'm so fucked.

"I... I didn't want to b-but Penny said she'd kill me if I said anything!" I protested, backing onto my mattress in fear. My retreat is like muscle memory, at this point.

"You mean to tell me that you truly believe Penny capable of killing you?" He smirks darkly.

"I-I just didn't want any trouble!" I babbled. "I was afraid you wouldn't believe me if I told you!"

Dad tilts his head and raises his brow. "You may be a useless, pathetic little fuck, but you know what, Lucas?" he pauses, waiting for me to respond.

"... what?"

"You're an awful liar, Lucas Price. I can always tell when you're full of shit, and surprisingly this time it seems you ain't." He laughs, tapping the book against his hand. Dad exhales and looks around the room once more before running a hand through his greying hair. "Hands on that side-table, boy."

My stomach dropped, and I swallow back more tears, but obey, nonetheless.

All I can do is stare at my hands in bated breath. This new punishment with my textbook is curious; what new way of hurting me has dad dreamt up this time?

"You accidentally slammed your hand in the car door this morning, Lucas." he states firmly.

"Yes, Sir."

He goes silent, and eyes my hands for a beat, I think trying to figure out which one is my dominant hand; I can only pray he guesses wrong. Finally, he takes my textbook and presses it over the top of my right hand—fuck. I'm right-handed. Dad then proceeded to bring his fist down repeatedly on the textbook, each blow sending evenly distributed waves of pain into my hand. I bit my lip, fighting back tears and wincing audibly with each hit.

He grabs me by the hair and pauses, "stop the fucking whining, or I'll do the other one you little fuck."

I swallowed hard and sniffled. "Y-yes, Sir."

He lets loose his grip and shoves my head forward in anger, sending my forehead into the wall in front of me. I choked back a cry, as the wooden edges of the side-table dug into my upper thigh as he sent my body forward. After that it was a blur, and an instant headache.

How many more times did the blows come? I lost track of time; all I could think about was pain... only pain. Every nerve-ending in my hand was on fire, every tear I swallowed an inner protest, but to no avail. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, but all I felt was pain, anger, and a burgeoning numbness to it all. I did my best to try and disassociate; to think about other things, to think about good things, but it felt impossible.

At some point it finally it ceased, but only when Penny's nasally voice interrupted us.

"Shouldn't have stolen from me, Lucas." She clucked her tongue loudly, waltzing into my room with an unimaginable sense of confidence. I only stared on in shock, struggling to reconcile the pain in my hand, but grateful the beating had stopped.

Dad huffs with satisfaction and gives my hand a once-over before tossing my textbook on the floor. He leans over and calmly whispers into my ear. "Don't ever lie to me again, boy. I ever find out you've lied again, and I'll beat that pretty face of yours beyond recognition. You should be grateful I even let you live here."

I cant help it anymore, and a few hot tears escape my eyes. I only nod and murmur, "yes, sir."

He nods curtly, "good. Glad we had this talk."

"Too bad I missed it," Penny interjects, stalking across the room to look at the damage. Dad says nothing, only looks at her display. "My, oh my." She purrs, grabbing my battered hand gruffly. I cry out in pain, pulling away from her and cradle my hand, afraid to even lay eyes on it.

"Fuck off, Penny!" I hiss, wiping my tears on my arm.

She laughs. "Do you think it's broken? I sure hope so. You know, they used to cut people's hands off for stealing back in the day." She crows smugly, her made-up eyes looking over me with disdain.

Dad shoves his hands in his pockets and continues to watch Penny. I think he's trying to work out what to do with her... or rather, to her. Sometimes I think my dad might kill me one day, but I think Penny, Penny he'll kill first. It terrifies me when he's calm like this.

"Lets go, Penny." he said abruptly, slipping out of my room into the hallway.

"But baby!" She pouts, "is that all he gets? He stole from us after all! That was your hard-earned money! Aren't you going to kick him out?"

Dad's jaw tightens, and if looks could kill, Penny would be a corpse. "I said let's go, Penny." He barks, and my mouth drops open in shock. He's not gonna go off on her too? He's not gonna confront her?

"But dad!" I start, but I'm quickly cut off.

"Not a fucking word out of you, Lucas." He growls, shooting a clear look of warning my way.

I only stutter, looking between the pair in shock, disgust, and frustration. Penny exhales a teasing laugh, patting me on my swollen cheek roughly before flitting out of my room. She looks so pleased with herself and slams the door behind her.

I choke out more tears, sucking in air as sobs envelope me. It hurts, it hurts so bad. Swallowing hard, I venture to look down at my poor hand, finding bruises developing across it immediately. It throbs, the pain dull but unrelenting. I try to manipulate each finger gingerly, hot tears running down my cheeks as I realize it's going to be near-impossible for me to hold a pencil, let alone drive my car now.

How long will it take to heal? Should I go to the doctor?

I need my right hand to shift, though, otherwise I'm not going anywhere. I'm supposed to leave for school in an hour, but how the fuck am I gonna get there now? Ian's car is in the shop, and they live on the other side of town—his mom has been driving him. If I take the bus, I won't be home until after six, possibly seven depending on how long it takes for the driver to make their route, and then dad will have yet another reason to beat me. It's almost as if he knew he could hurt me more with this than a punch to the gut.

I slump onto my bed into defeat, and let the tears fall.

"Just one more year." I murmured in-between sobs. "One more."