Zoey Richardson
A treasured social elite or a criminal Cleopatra?
A cunning young woman or simply a lucky naive girl?
Widower or murderess?
Traitor or victim?
Duality had always played a role in this authentically zealous woman's life. On the out...
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Emma Reed was murdered on the 3rd of November 1921 at 10:35 pm outside her family home in Croyden. She was stabbed 10 times, 3 to the heart and 7 to the abdomen.
2 days later Zoey received a parcel along with a few invitations and documents, upon opening her delivery she discovered a blood-drenched decaying hand with the same friendship bracelet the girls had gifted each other when they were both 7. Before Emma was forbidden to associate with Zoey and her crime-ridden family.
Her reaction was hardly external as her body froze up, her fingers weakening at the sight and surrendering the package to gravity letting it drop to the bedroom floor. Internally she was screaming, crying, and destroying anything in her sight, but these emotions never reached the surface as she remained stuck in time. Those old familiar feelings of being powerless had returned, her gut churning as she swallowed down the bubbling-up bile.
John had just finished dropping the kids off at school, he took his usual route home after stopping for a morning beer in the Garrison. Stepping through the door he was greeted by Benny. The large dog made his bed right at the bottom of the stairs often tripping John up when he came home drunk, but the mutt had grown on him after these past few days so John couldn't resist greeting him back patting his head.
"Zoey!" his call carried itself through the house, but there was no answer. John's brows knitted together as he wandered into the kitchen where she often sat doing work, but there was no sign of her. "Zoey!" he was louder this time, checking the living room but she wasn't there either. John was thrown into a panic after this as he rushed up the stairs, his footsteps so heavy the floorboards rattle and creaked under the pressure. "Zoey?!" He broke through Katie's bedroom door which was now temporarily Zoey's.
He was relieved to see she was indeed alive and not missing, but as soon as he entered that room he could almost feel the disturbance in the air. The girl looked almost ghostly, locked-in a trance rendering her in a statue-like position sitting on her bed. "Zoey?" His words were softer this time as he neared her bed, his eyes immediately noticing the amputated, bloody hand at her feet. "Bloody hell." He was shocked himself but attempted to remain calm not wanting to cause her any distress although it didn't come naturally to him. "Who's fucking hand is that?!"
