I Wish It Was The End.

she could only wish

Lucille was a pretty average 22 year old. She worked a nine to five job, forty hours a week, lived in a small house alone, was single, and loved her some alcohol.

Yet Lucille loved her life. It was calm and peaceful, even if she did have hella anxiety and stress with work and other random shit. Lucille loved herself too. She loved her body, the way she talked, her mindset. She loved it all.

That was until one evening when Lucille was simply walking down the pavement, phone in hand, making sure she still kept enough attention to the people walking around her to not hurt herself or others. Some days she wish she would've just kept her face glued to the screen in her hands, not caring for safety.

She took her normal sharp corner on the way to her house. She always walked the shortcut home. If only she knew it would've ended like this. It was about eight pm at this point and Lucille had just got off from her job as a waitress at a local bar. She earned quite a good bit of money, being able to keep herself in a great financial position.

She took another turn, turning on the flashlight on her phone to be able to see a little clearer.

God, she really wished she didn't.

She let out a gasp, almost dropping her phone at the gross sight. Lucille was always into true crime so being so grossed at the sight, honestly shocked her clouded mind. She felt like she would puke any moment.

"O-oh God.." she whispered, stuttering as her throat began closing up, trying to stop herself from throwing up. She stumbled over to the coffee shop wall near her. It was her favorite. She wish she could be tasting a mocha instead of her breakfast regurgitated.

She leaned onto the wall with her hands, her body far from the wall, back slightly bent as she tried to breathe slower to not throw up.

'Please tell me I'm dreaming,' Lucille thought to herself as she slowly regained the strength in her body. She straightened out her body before hesitantly turning to the right where she saw the horrific sight.

It was still there. She indeed was not dreaming. Nor having a nightmare, which Lucille thought would be better than this.

It was a man, it was hard to tell how old he was as his body was crumpled onto garbage bags. This coffee shop was never good about actually putting the trash in the dumpster. Thankfully the garbage men were nice about it. He had brown skin and dreads close to his ear. He had extremely dark purplish bruises on him everywhere. Not to mention the immense amount of gashes all over him.

Lucille felt tears start to prick her eyes as she began to feel her throat close up again. It was disgusting.

Lucille decided to be brave and see if he was still breathing even if her instincts told her to just call the police. She wish she would've listened.

She reached out her arm and shakily felt on the under side of his wrist. She let out a soft sigh when she felt a heartbeat. A normal one at that. She felt a lot less worried now knowing he's still actually alive.

Lucille decided against her better judgement to just try and wake him up before she called the police. Again, she really wished she would've listened to herself.

She took off her backpack, putting her phone in, and setting it aside, before walking closer to the man, still quite hesitant.

"Hey sir.." she mumbled, unsure of what to say, as she grabbed his face, trying to get his almost dead attention.

No reaction.

"Um dude," she said a bit louder, not too loud though. What would people think if they saw this? She shook his face side to side, somewhat gentle as she didn't want to give him whiplash.

Finally after around fifteen minutes and no responses, Lucille decided she was gonna call the police to deal with this. She gently set his head back down onto the filled unpleasant smelling garbage bags and walked back over to her backpack. She always kept a backpack with her at the bar, you never knew what you or other employees may need.

Lucille opened up the biggest pouch in the bookbag, fumbling around for her phone, instead finding a water bottle.

'Shit! Why didn't I think of this? Oh my Lord,' Lucille thought, rolling her eyes at herself.

She grabbed the water bottle and walked back over to the man before opening it up and quickly splashing it all onto his face.

He sat up quickly, gasping hard. He let out a quiet groan, slowly regaining his voice.