What Kind of Man || Jim Moriarty

Eight

She awoke early, too early, the next morning. If a person could call it waking up. Lucy had barley slept, choosing to go to bed had been a wasteful decision as she constantly looked for shadows passing under her door and listening out for noises which never came. She must have only got 2 hours sleep altogether throughout the night and that was only when her eyes became too heavy for fear to hold them back anymore. Her door was untouched, that she knew even before she dragged her feet the small distance from her bedroom to her living room. All the locks were still secured, everything was as it was when she went to bed. The lights still on, unable to accept the darkness last night, and curtains still shut. The phone still blinking with the unread messages her parents had left throughout the evening after hearing their daughters name on the main news of every television channel. She couldn't bare to take their calls, there was already too much in her head as it was. They could wait until her name was cleared just like Moriarty had promised.

It was 5am. Too early to do anything yet. She would go to police station like that man had told her to last night. She would go and say what she had been instructed to and she would act as casual as physically possible. Casual and clueless to the events which had taken place. She'd go as soon as the clock reached an acceptable hour to not seem suspicious. Heading in at 9 o'clock however looked normal, morning but approaching mid-morning, it could be the normal time she passed on her way to work. Or it could be early enough for her to be concerned about hearing her name on the news, but not enough to look scared and rushed.

That meant she had plenty of time to kill though, but thankfully the sun was coming up. Light was starting to peak in from the small gaps in the curtains and Lucy couldn't be more thrilled. Now the night had passed, it seemed like less was likely to happen in the pure daylight. There was no one coming for her yet...maybe there wasn't at all. Could she ever trust this Moriarty man? He could be wrong...but something in her was convinced he was right. He spoke so dryly and with so much heat. She wouldn't take the risk in not listening to him, she'd be cautious until her name was truly cleared.

There was time for breakfast, and to take her time getting ready. Work would be skipped, she doubted there was a reason to call in as her boss would already know. So Lucy lazily moved about the flat, for the first time in years feeling like she had all the time in the world to kill. She moved to the kitchen area and popped the kettle on, getting a box of sugared cereal out of the cupboard above as it boiled. A coffee and a bowl of coco pops. She got out a clean mug and spooned the coffee in along with two sugars. Nothing overly complicated and in no time she was falling back onto the couch.

Lucy didn't want to listen to the news or watch TV in fear of hearing anything about herself. She wanted to walk into the police station empty of the news and clueless to what they already knew. She'd be more natural that way and able to...think clearer. At least she thought that way now as she sat and waited for the hours to tick by.

She started getting ready at 6:30am, out the shower by 6:50am, enjoying the chance to be able to stand under the warm running water. Imagining the soap washing everything away, every worry, every stress. Hair was dried by 7:10am, makeup and hair finished by 7:30am and her outfit had been picked and thrown on by 7:40am. A plain and simple pair of black skinny trousers and a cream blouse she thought would be smart enough for showing up. She didn't want to look like a dead beat tramp, she wanted to look respected, even though that couldn't be further from the truth. By 8:00am she was all ready and stood by her door, twiddling her thumbs around each other. Wearing her trench coat and with her beaten up purse over her shoulder, Lucy took one last deep breath and then rested her hand on the handle to the front door.

It was now or never. She went there now and talked or they came after her when it was too late and forced her into a cell. So, gathering every bit of courage she had left, Lucy left the apartment and started on her way towards the nearest police station she new of; Paddington Green. It was a long trek from her flat, a tube ride with a change after four stops on the blue line. But after around forty minutes she walked up towards the front of the building with her head held as high as could possibly be expected in this type of situation.