The taste of blood was still fresh in Lucas’ mouth. If he focused hard enough he could even still smell the body which was now several blocks down the street. Or maybe he couldn’t and it was simply a hallucination. Maybe all of this was a hallucination. Lucas had been having some crazy dreams as of te, grated the more dramatic things he’d hoped were dreams turned out to be real— but maybe this would be different?

  Because this couldn’t be real, right?

  This could NOT be real.

  Lucas bit down sharply on the inside of his cheek sending a visceral shock of pain through his body— real. He messed with the hem of the stolen skirt, he needed something— anything to distract his brain.

  Lucas’ whole body was reverberating, there was nothing he could do to stop it. The more he focused on trying to calm himself the more that man burrowed into his psyche. His hands touching him, vioting him in unspeakable, wicked ways.

  Lucas cwed at his stomach, hugging himself as tightly and painfully as possible. His stubby nails digging into his flesh.

  He once again found himself in the depths of an alleyway; cold and alone. Lucas braced himself up against the brick fa?ade, and slowly slid down until he was sitting, just barely missing a puddle of— something. It didn’t look like just water and Lucas certainly didn’t want to find out in earnest.

  What the hell was he thinking!

  Who did he think he was! Petra? Ridiculous.

  There was too much to unpack. His stupid identity crises was the least of his problems at the moment. He knew what y at the end of that pass and he was certainly not ready for it.

  Lucas had just killed a man, certainly not an innocent man and God did he bloody deserve it— there was a faint twinge of satisfaction as Lucas realized that— but the point remained. Murder.

  Lucas tugged his legs as close to his body as he could, taking a steadying breath. His muscles tensing before slowly being let loose, growing heavy, his body sinking into the concrete. His eyes swelled and began pouring out fresh tears that slowly began cutting through the dried blood that stained his face.

  Should he go to the police? What was he supposed to tell them? Would they even believe him? The way he’s dressed they’d probably call him the crazy one and haul him away. He knew police didn’t like people like him.

  People like him?

  Like what? Lucas was a normal man— this was a fluke. This whole week of silly questioning, a huge fluke. A fluke and a mistake and a dumb, stupid delusion from reality.

  No.

  That’s not true.

  Before he even began to move his hands trembled as they made their way down his body. He hadn’t wanted to confirm it yet, but he already knew what he’d find. Worse despite everything, despite the absolute hell he just went through, there was just relief. For a split moment her tears of grief morphed into tears of joy. That joy however would be forever tainted by the actions inflicted upon him.

  Lucas could not understand the torrent of emotions flooding his mind. An old childhood wish had been granted all at the cost of her new body being scorned and defiled for the sick pleasure of a stranger. It was disgusting.

  Despite how accustomed to vomiting his body had become recently the unease in Lucas’ body only grew into useless bursts of dry heaving. His full stomach clinging onto the fresh blood viciously.

  The sound of sirens bred down the street, barreling towards the corpse of that reprobate. Oh god, the waitress was sure to sell him out. He saw how she tried to keep him there to punish him for a crime he shouldn’t be liable for. It was self defense, she was being assaulted and had to do something.

  The adrenaline and shock was slowly giving way to a brutal crity. Lucas didn’t want to live. He wanted to be purged from this world, driven into the great ke to be lost to the tides and drown. His body has been taken and twisted. Twisted into what it always should have been, it was perfect, not yet, but it was close. Close enough that Lucas was no longer a necessary factor.

  Lucas the poor imitation of a person that had walked through life on autopilot, doing the bare minimum to get by. Doing just enough to please others in ways that would not attract extra attention to him.

  But did she deserve to have this as her first memory? Sure Maria was wonderful and her compliments made Petra feel… incredible. But if that was truly her debut she would be stuck with that shit stain of human plucking her body as a core memory.

  So Lucas valiant as he is useless will drag that memory down with him. It will be his. Petra will not have to deal with the guilt, the trauma from being raped and killing her abuser. Lucas will, but not for long since soon he will cease. It is an acceptable trade off in Lucas’ head.

  The man who he pretended to be will die, his body may still move but it is not him; was it ever? Petra, born from the long hidden aspirations of Lucas’ soul will live on in his pce, she will live the long life he was never destined for.

  Lucas took a long deep breath and stood up. There was only one more task left in his life. One more thing and then Petra, whoever she’ll end up being will take control. It was slightly liberating to think about. The inscrutable trauma of the night would mean nothing, Petra could shove it away deep into the depths of her mind right alongside Lucas.

  Lucas strolled out from the alley not caring that his blood stained clothes were visible to the world should it decide to look. They wouldn’t see this person ever again. For a moment Lucas considered jumping into the river as a symbolic gesture but the river was far enough away that he couldn’t be bothered.

  Lucas no longer felt himself being bogged down by any expectations, for once in his life he felt free.

  Pasta-Gal