t/w for murder, knives, blood, death
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Lucie got home from school just shy of three o'clock. She used her key to get in, shut the door, and locked it again before heading up to her room and setting her bag down. She then headed back downstairs and fed her cat, Evie. Afterwards, she sat on the couch with her phone and flipped through channels on the TV, finding herself settling on a fifties film, starring Angelica Rosewood. She'd heard about her before; she'd gotten stabbed to death in her hotel room for being a lesbian, so, y'know.
After about ten minutes of being home, she got the 'you okay?' text from Emilia to which Lucie responded with a thumbs up.
So, for the next hour or so, things were fine. Lucie had her attention divided between the movie, whatever she was doing on her phone and Evie. Then she heard some sounds, like footsteps. She lowered the TV's volume and listened for a moment, but heard nothing.
Well, a normal, non-traumatized person would probably shrug it off, turn the TV back on, but not this abnormal, very much traumatized girl, who fully turned the TV off and stood up. She listened for a moment and once again heard she believed to be footsteps.
Lucie wasn't sure what to do. Should she call Emilia? Should she call the police? Should she just leave, head down the street to a neighbor's or something? She slowly approached the stairs, the footsteps were coming from upstairs. It was dark up there, so she couldn't really, see anything from where she was standing and you were absolutely insane if you think she'd be going up there herself.
She decided she should leave and probably take Evie with her for good measure. Her carrier was in the living room, anyway. So, she'd get Evie in there, grab her phone and head out the back door.
Maybe she was being paranoid, but you absolutely cannot blame the girl.
She was about to walk into the living room when the footsteps became pounding ones and all of a sudden, she was slammed into a wall, knocking down a few hanging pictures, whose frames shattered on the ground.
Lucie got a glimpse of his face- brown hair, blue eyes, white. She could vaguely recognize him, but couldn't remember his name, if she ever knew it in the first place. She pushed the guy off of her and quickly ran towards the back door. If she could get out onto the street, he'd leave her alone.
No witnesses; that was a crucial rule. Lucie knew that.
He grabbed her again, pulling her into a chokehold in the kitchen. Then, her throat was slit clean across. He dropped her on the kitchen floor, turned off any lights and left. She just stared up at the ceiling, the feeling of the blood traveling down her neck almost like torture.
At that moment, Lucie didn't feel entirely alone. There was a strange, almost comforting presence there with her.
Or maybe she was dying and delerious.
Within two minutes, Lucie Maria David was dead.
