ResponsibilityA Story by snapjack
Lucas and Sara continue their fighting, but it doesn't always end in a good way
The blue brought out the best in the red, I always thought. If you caught it just right, there was white.
After it happened, we had been fighting a lot. And it wasn’t getting better like it does in movies.
It started off bad when I woke up and it was raining outside. Not the fresh air rain that makes you open the windows regardless. No, it was the cold that made this rain bad.
Lucas rolled in around eleven to tell me that he would be leaving.
“This is your fault,” Lucas said. I opened my mouth and we went at it. It wasn’t sex, but it was screaming. A lot of screaming.
“You son of a b***h!” I screamed at him, tossing the glass vase at his feet. I felt the tendons line my neck when I screamed. I felt the arm muscles pull and contract when I threw it. His eyes lit up like oil to a flame. It didn’t take words to express his feelings.
Instead, he picked up the chair next to the door and threw it at the wall. The beige wall now has scuffs on it accompanied with a nice hole. I backed up and started running, but he caught me before I landed my fourth foot on the floor.
We fell down on the hardwood and he grabbed my wrists. I jerked my leg up and it connected nicely with a set of balls. His face turned bright red and a vein pulsated up his forehead and into his hairline. I pushed him off of me and crawled to get a weapon. My hand grasped a thin, hardback book just as I began sliding back toward him by my feet.
“You’ll pay for that,” Lucas kept repeating in a labored voice. I clutched the book to my chest, plotting my next move. He forced me to him in a swift motion while I tried to free my legs. Lucas flung me on my back and gave me a quick punch to the face.
I let out a choked moan and quickly fuelled my own flame. He tried to sit on me, but I pulled the book back and banged it over his hard head. He grabbed his head and I hit him again.
Lucas grabbed the book from me and beat me with it. I felt bruises lining my face, but I didn’t give up. I pulled back a fist and socked him right in the eye the second I got the chance. He fell back, holding his eye.
“Thank my dad, you f**k-face!” I screamed. I pulled my feet out from under him and we both stumbled to our feet. Lucas was the first to find a weapon while I scouted mine.
A model wooden boat went flying at my legs just as I found one. I gave a battle cry and grabbed the curtain rod. I fell against the wall and wrenched the rod out of its holders. The other half clanged its way to the floor. I held the rod like a sword.
Lucas grabbed the collectors' chess set from the table and held it in a same stance.
“Do you want to die, Sara?” Lucas threatened.
“Do you want to live, Lucas?” I threatened back and started swinging, decorative end first. The chess set connected with my side just as the rod connected with the side of his knee. We both yelled out, but kept hitting.
His head, my leg. His ribs, my back. His neck, my pelvis. We both fell to the floor, but I somehow ended up on top of him, letting him have it. I smacked, punched and pinned him down, all the while screaming myself hoarse. He laid me out with his words, desperately grabbing for my arms.
We changed positions and then it was his turn except he wasn't as nice.
You ask me now, “What happened, Sara?”
As a response, there are many. I could tell you about how Lucas went to jail for twenty years or how I ended up drinking with a screaming kid. You ask, what happened? I’ll tell you this:
I believe him.
© 2011 snapjack
AboutAll original photos that I have used can be located in my blog on here, named: ALL USED PHOTOS.... http://www.writerscafe.org/snapjack/blogs/All-used-photos-can-be-found-here:/10939/ Any const.. more..