"I don't know what you are talking about." Lucas father said.

"You know damned well what I'm talking about! Hurry and find the money and fork it over before I pop your heads like balloons!" The robber replied with a sneer.

"I'm sorry. It's just that... this has to be a misunderstanding sir. We have no money." His father continued.

Bam!

The criminal slapped him across the face with a pistol. The old man nose began to drain blood.

"Don't bullshit me. I know your backstory. Quiet middle class family with a little bit of savings who had two sons. Both were smart and the older was on the verge of graduating with his bachelor's and the younger was just about to begin college. To celebrate, the couple bought the older a car and he took it for a joyride carrying his younger brother with him."

"Unfortunately, shit happens. An accident happened, leaving the older in a coma and the younger dead. When the older eventually woke up a year later, he was so guilt stricken that he basically gave up on life and started indulging in food and video games to hide the pain."

The old couple looked shocked at the gunman's words and seeing this the gunman laughed.

"Why are you looking at me so shocked? Basically everyone knows your story. What they don't know though is that the insurance payout you guys collected from that accident is enough to set up you and your worthless kid for life." The criminal said with a crooked smile.

"I also know you guys have a propensity to keep large amounts of cash around. I'm here to collect it all." He continued.

The fat Lucas watched from the corner, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. His hands trembled as he gripped the wall, trying to decide what to do.

[From here you will have to experience the memory first hand. It will be traumatizing so keep it in mind.] The system said.

In the next second, Lucas had become the fat Lucas.

"Mom. Dad." Lucas whispered to himself.

He could see the fear in their eyes, the way his mother was trying not to cry. He could see how despite being in much danger himself, his father was positioning himself slightly in front of her.

This is my fault. All of it. If I hadn't been such a failure, if I'd just gotten my life together after the accident, they wouldn't have needed to keep all that money around to support me.

The robber was getting more agitated. "I'm not going to ask again! Where. Is. The. Money?!"

His father opened his mouth to respond, but the robber cut him off. "You know what? I don't have time for this." He shifted the gun, pointing it directly at his mother's head. "Maybe if I blow her brains out, you'll be more cooperative."

No. Lucas thought.

Before he could think, before he could second-guess himself, Lucas charged.

He was heavy, uncoordinated, out of shape. But he had mass and momentum.

The robber turned at the sound of footsteps, but he was too late. Lucas crashed into him like a linebacker, all 400 pounds of weight slamming into the man's side.

They went down together in a tangle of limbs. The gun went off and the sound was deafening in the enclosed space.

Lucas felt something burn across his shoulder but ignored it. His hands found the robber's wrist, the one holding the gun. He squeezed with everything he had, ignoring the man's attempts to knee him, to headbutt him, to break free.

"Run!" Lucas screamed at his parents. "Get out! Call the police!"

He heard his mother sobbing and his father shouting something, but he couldn't focus on that.

The robber was stronger than he looked, wiry and desperate. He got one hand free and raked his fingers across Lucas's face, trying to gouge his eyes.

Lucas jerked his head back and slammed his forehead down into the robber's nose. He heard a crunch and felt warm blood spray across his face.

The gun went off again.

This time, Lucas felt it. Something in his chest that felt wrong like his body suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe properly.

Oh.

The robber shoved him off and scrambling to his feet. Blood poured from his broken nose, and he was swaying slightly. He looked down at Lucas with wild, frightened eyes.

"You... you crazy bastard!" He raised the gun again, pointing it at Lucas's head.

But his hands were shaking. The robber was panicking now, realizing this had gone too far, that he'd shot someone and that the police were probably already on their way.

He turned and ran, crashing through the front door and disappearing into the night.

Lucas tried to sit up but couldn't. His chest felt heavy and wet. When he looked down, he saw red spreading across his shirt, too much red, way too much.

His parents were there suddenly, his mother pressing something against his chest, his father on the phone with emergency services, both of them crying and saying things he couldn't quite make out anymore.

I'm sorry, Lucas wanted to say. I'm sorry I became such a burden. I'm sorry about the accident. I'm sorry I couldn't save him. I'm sorry I gave up.

But I'm glad I could at least do this. I'm glad I could protect you this one time.

His mother's face was above him, and she was saying something about staying awake, about holding on, about how the ambulance was coming.

But Lucas felt so tired. More tired than he'd ever felt in his life.

The edges of his vision were going dark, like someone was slowly turning down the lights.

Maybe this is better, he thought. Maybe this is what I deserved all along. At least I finally did something right.

The last thing he saw was his mother's face, tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth moving in words he could no longer hear.

And then...

Nothing.

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