Luring Lyra | Creepypasta Fanmade Spin-off [COMPLETED]

7.

Warning: assault, blood, death/murder

~

Forty flyers should be enough, Lyra thought to herself as Maxine handed her a stack of missing posters identical to the one in the window, all wrapped in wax paper so they would be protected.

"I know that you and that boy knew each other," Maxine explained kindly. "Even if he is dead, I don't want people to forget about him."

Lyra's fingers tightened around the flyers, but she nodded. How was she the only one who believed Liu Woods was somewhere out there, still alive?

"Hasta la vista," Lyra said at last.

With that, Lyra safely tucked the stack of posters into her backpack, which she hoisted over her shoulder, grabbed her lunchbox, and left the building, the bell jingling as she did so. But as she made her way to the father's car, she noticed something that caused her a combined sensation of anger and dread:

All four of the tires had been slashed.

"What the fuck!?" Lyra blurted out with fury.

Who would do this? Was it a bunch of teenagers causing trouble? Or was it . . . ?

Lyra felt her stomach drop as she saw Nico's car on the other side of the parking lot. He was staring out the windshield directly at her, and even from a distance, Lyra could see the disgusting intent in his eyes.

Lyra gulped. In the morning rush to get out of the house, she had forgotten both her tazer and her pepper spray at home. Cursing herself for forgetting, she calmly began to walk away: she knew that if she ran, Nico would only run after her.

Following her mother's advice, Lyra did her best to keep her head high as she strolled along the sidewalk, as if she was just regularly going about her day. Her heart was racing, but she tried to swallow her fear. She couldn't be afraid. Not now. She was above that.

But as Lyra made her way in the direction of her house, she heard the slow rumbling of tires behind her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Nico's car following her, and she began to walk faster. But the faster she walked, the faster Nico drove, until Lyra finally broke into a run.

Lyra heard Nico park his car in the gutter as she raced down the sidewalk, her backpack flapping against her back and her heart pounding furiously. She could hear her ex speeding after her, calling out to her, "Wait up, babe!"

Lyra had gone into fight or flight mode, and despite how out of character it was, she was too worried for her safety to choose fight. If he wanted to, Nico could do terrible things to her, things she could never forget if she wanted to, as Lyra knew all too well. Lyra was very strong and fast, skilled in boxing, and martial prowess flowed in her veins like blood. But Nico ran track and had won a college scholarship in basketball: he was almost as powerful as her.

Despite Lyra's strong legs going at top speed, inevitably, she began to run out of breath. But her adrenaline kept her going, and her energy didn't seem to matter anymore: she kept running, knowing she wasn't going to stop until she had reached the safety of Winona's house.

At last, Lyra arrived at a Harris Teeter, where she knew she could get help. But as she was racing through the parking lot, Nico reached her, grabbing her by the ponytail and yanking her head back, taking her by surprise. Slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle her shrieks, Nico dragged Lyra behind the store. Lyra kicked and punched, swinging her arms everywhere, but Nico's grip on her barely wavered.

Lyra began to panic as Nico slammed her against the wall behind the Harris Teeter, keeping a hand clapped over her mouth as he pressed his body against hers to prevent her from fighting back. Her fear was swirling inside her, boiling her blood like a black, syrupy substance.

"Shut up, bitch!" Nico hissed in Lyra's ear, his voice dripping with venomous intentions. "Or I'll kill you right here!"

That's when something broke in Lyra's mind. Memories from that fateful day when she was nineteen flooded back to her like river rapids. No. She wouldn't let this happen again. She wouldn't be taken advantage of for a second time. She wouldn't be the weak little whore her father said she was. She was powerful. She was a champion. She was above being too fragile to defend herself from being violated.

Everything became a blur as Lyra wrenched herself free, tearing Nico's hand away from her mouth. She lunged at him, tackling him to the ground and sitting on his chest. Before Nico could defend himself, Lyra thrusted her fist into his mouth so hard she could feel his teeth cracking under her knuckles. She punched him again and again, fueled by anger that burned in her gut and surged through her whole body.

Lyra could feel the warm blood staining her knuckles and spraying onto her face as she kept going. The ringing in her ears roared above Nico's pleads for her to stop, but she refused to cease. He hadn't stopped when she had said 'no.' If he hadn't stopped, Lyra wasn't going to, either.

On and on, Lyra continued to maul her attacker. Broken teeth. Broken nose. Hair ripped out. Bruised eyes. It wasn't enough. Lyra wanted him to pay. She wanted him to truly suffer for destroying her two years ago. Blinding rage had taken over her completely, controlling her every move.

Eventually, Lyra seized Nico by the neck, squeezing it like a ripe lemon as he began to gargle for air. His screams for help dissolved into desperate pleas for oxygen, which Lyra disregarded entirely. A sadistic grin spread across her cheeks as tears filled Nico's eyes: he was racked with pain. He was hurting. And it made Lyra feel good. It made her feel powerful, like she had complete control over him, which she did. She had felt this amazing sensation before, as she felt the same when watching her father crumple to the floor as she kicked him and shoved him away from herself and her mother, beating him with her bat. She had felt it when she had mauled to death small animals she found in her backyard. But it had never filled her with such joy as it did now.

By the time Lyra finally let go of Nico's throat, her knuckles were white. But she didn't give Nico any time to breathe, as she spotted a nearby rock out of the corner of her eye. Grabbing it, she grinned for a second time at the look of terror in Nico's eyes before smashing the rock into his face, again and again, until she could do it no longer. At last, she tossed the rock away, and it clattered to the pavement, stained with blood.

For several minutes, Lyra simply sat there as she tried to catch her breath. As the ringing in her ears finally subsided, pain seemed to stab the palm of her hand like a knife, and she turned it over to find a gash that had been caused by a sharp point of the rock. Spatters of blood dirtied her face and hands, and her knuckles were cut. Her teeth had been gritted so firmly that her jaw was a tad sore.

At long last, Lyra allowed her shoulders to relax, and she gazed down at her victim. Nico's face was a crimson mask, a puffy mess of bruises. Blood oozed from his mouth, lips, and nose. Patches of his black hair were missing, his brown roots showing due to the blood seeping into his scalp. His face had been crushed, mangled, wrecked, so much so that he was barely recognizable. His eyes were halfway open and glossed over . . . lifeless.

Lyra frowned and lifted her fist for one last sock to the nose. But as her knuckles landed on Nico's face, she felt nothing but cold death beneath her.

I killed him.

The thought was sudden, but clear as day: there was no denying it.