Lucas felt lightheaded as he carried you back home. He felt the blood run down his body, but that didn't matter. He'd hurt you, and for that he deserves to suffer. His eyes were puffy from crying over your limp body.

"P-please..." he pleaded, walking through the open front door.

He closed it with his foot, continuing back inside. His dragged himself and you down a new hallway, turning at the first door. He nudged it open. Hundreds and hundreds of pictures littered the walls. Hundreds of pictures of you. He gasped, setting you on the bed. He lolled his head back, catching his breath as he walked back out of the room. He clumsily made his way to the bathroom. Flicking the lights on, he winced at the un-welcomed brightness. He opened the sink cabinet, shuffling through all the items. His hand latched onto the first aid kit, pulling it out. He groaned in pain as he pressed a wetted down rag on the stab. Blood gushed from the wound, making him dizzy. He hunched over the sink, grabbing onto the counter.

He'd messily bandaged the wound. Several layers of gauze were applied before he wrapped an ace bandage around his stomach multiple times. Slowly, he made his way back to the bedroom. He collapsed beside you. Wrapping an arm around your waist and one behind your neck, Lucas hugged you close. He shivered at the thought of you leaving again. He couldn't lose you. He wouldn't lose you.

"Please w-wake up s-soon," he mumbled into your hair.

"I...I'm r-really sorry."

He was met by silence of course as you peacefully took shallow breaths. He watched you chest rise and fall with every breath. It calmed him down in his own little weird way. It was peaceful for him, and soon he drifted off to sleep.

. . . .

You groaned as you opened your eyes. You took a deep inhale in, but began coughing. Your throat felt like it had been doused in gasoline and lit on fire. You struggled to steady your breathing after your coughing fit. You gently ran a hand across your neck, flinching at the unusual pain.

"Ouch...Jesus christ. What the hell?" You mumbled as you sat up.

You flung your legs over the edge of the bed, about to walk to the door. That's when you froze. How had you not noticed before. You, painfully, screamed bloody murder at the sight before you. You almost fainted due to the sheer amount of shock. Hundreds of pictures, no, maybe even thousands, of pictures of you hung around the room. They ranged from anything subtle like you sitting down, to you in....to you in your underwear?!

Footsteps came rushing in, Lucas seemed to be out of breath as he opened the door.

"W-what's wrong?" He asked frantically.

You just clutched onto your hair, in denial, hoping this wasn't real. You were just having a nightmare, that's all. You shook your head as you stared at the mattress. Arms enveloped you as you cried.

"Please c-calm down."

You looked up at Lucas and shoved him away. He winced at the pain, and you just stared him dead in the eyes.

"I knew you were a psycho, but this," you cried.

"This is insane!"

Lucas just gave you a displeased look as you cried.

"How long? How long have you been watching me!" You screamed at him, clutching onto the blankets.

"I-I can't remember."

Another choked out sob escaped you. Your body shook violently as you cried. How long has he been watching? Clearly for a very long time judging by how old you looked in some of the photos.

"W-when I was f-five," you heard him start.

"I-I first saw y-you at the park."

........

A young brown eyed boy stared curiously at the little girl. She giggled as she ran around the swing set, assumably her older brother chasing her around. She giggled. The young boy liked her laugh. It was cute.

"Lucas, what are you doing?" A motherly voice asked.

The boy stayed silent as he watched. The mother put two and two together as she chuckled.

"Looks like someone just got bit by the love bug," she laughed, grabbing the boys hand.

He looked at his mother with wide eyes. Red dusted his cheeks.

"Nu-Uh!" He exclaimed.

His mother just laughed as she pulled him along.

————

"Hi, I'm (y/n)!" The girl said happily.

The little boy just stared at her, not saying anything.

"Looks like we're partners today!"

The young boy just looked at his desk, too nervous to speak up.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Silence.

"Hmph, teacher, he won't talk to me!"

"Now (y/n), maybe Lucas is just a bit shy."

"Mmm I think it's because he doesn't like me."

"No!" The boy exclaimed, slamming his hands on the desk.

"I do like you!"

The little girl's (e/c) eyes widen as pink dusted her cheeks.

"I like you a lot!"

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, smiling.

"I like you too. You're cool."

———

"Lucas!" The seven year old screamed.

"You ruined it!"

The boy just stared down at the drawing. He thought she would like it if he colored the bow in.

"Ugh! Go throw it away!" She said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Yes! Of course!" The boy said, throwing the paper away.

"I'm really sorry!"

The girl sighed.

"It's okay I guess."

———

"Teacher! He cut my hair!" The girl shouted as she cried.

The boy held a small lock of her hair in his hand. He quickly hid it behind himself.

"Lucas! Show me your hands."

He cried as he showed the teacher.

"Young man, you are ten years old! This is unacceptable. I'm calling your mother!"

...

"Lucas, I'm very disappointed," his mother scolded as she drove him home.

"How could you do something like that?"

"Her hair was really soft."

She hit the brakes.

"Excuse me?"

"H-her hair was soft," he repeated himself.

The woman cringed at his words. Disgusting.

———

That's when it al began to spiral downwards for the boy. His father would hit him, trying to this atrocious behavior. He was shunned by his family for being such a freak. His parents snapped, however, when they caught a glimpse of his room. Mortified doesn't even compare to how they felt when they saw all the pictures. They couldn't do anything though, not til he was old enough to live by himself. So as soon as he turned the correct age, they kicked him out. Caring enough, they bought him his own little home.

......

"When did you start taking the pictures?" You asked between your sniffles.

"T-they got me a c-camera when I was e-eight, but I started t-taking them when I w-was around the age of eleven."

Your mind was spiraling. He'd been watching that long? You felt dizzy, sick to your stomach.

"I-I need to...the bathroom," you mumbled, standing up.

"W-what's wrong?" Lucas asked, concerned.

"I'm gonna get sick-"

______

@taehay29 thank you for telling me to update! I thought I posted this like five days ago, but I forgot to actually post it. You know when you send a text, but you only mentally sent it...yeaaa. Anyways, here's a little background info for our creep Lucas.