L'Appel du Vide

Rethinking Things

Another boring day in my office. It had been... stressful lately. With that damned boy coming in and killing some of our subordinates, he was threatening to repeat history, to have us relive the awful memories of our parent's death. Lucy was enraged, and she was more aggressive. Everything was going to shit.

I promised myself I would never return to that fucking place, but when he arrived everything came flooding back. I spent countless nights dreaming of desolate wastelands and empty neighborhoods, tired mornings hoping for an end to these voices, for something to take me away from the hell. Everything, every memory returned and every wound reopened. I had puked for the first time in years, decades even. Maybe centuries; I've lost count.

I felt myself fall back into that familiar state of tears and hysteria– a depressive state that I struggled to escape. I became paranoid and shaky, and very, very aware. I stayed in a constant state of hyper-vigilance, and it was torture. It went on for days, weeks, and it kept getting worse. I wasn't able to sleep nor eat– though I knew I didn't really need to– and the cycle never ended. Lucy noticed; everyone noticed.

That boy was killing everyone, starting with our subordinates. Somehow he managed to worm his way through with that little crew of his, like a sewer rat. Lucy became tense and quiet as he got closer.

And then Cass shot herself.

Dear God.

I remember that night clearly. It was midnight, and somehow I managed to fall asleep for the first time in a very long time. Everyone awoke to the sound of a gunshot and Lucy's pained shrieks. I recall rushing down the hall towards the game room, where Lucy sat, hunched over Cass' dead body. The smell of blood and metal assaulted my senses, and my ears pounded from Lucy's screams.

We tried to pry her away, to relieve her of the sight, but she insisted. She bit one of the henchmen who was unfortunate enough to get too close. Everything was a fucking disaster. I remember the henchmen carrying away Cass' body in a bag with the revolver she used to commit suicide. Nobody knew why she did it. We all knew she was a quiet woman, but it was never like.. That. Lucy was the closest to her, her partner, her lover, and I knew it was terrible for her.

I tried comforting her, but she stayed in her office, never moving. She looked nearly dead– her beautiful features ruined with mascara streaking her cheeks and a pale face. Drunk out of her mind and probably hammered as well, she wouldn't talk to me or anyone. And still, the boy was inching ever closer towards killing everyone.

It was a stressful week. Cass' funeral had been prepared, and not surprisingly, Lucy made an actual effort to come. She didn't speak, she just stared at the ground with wide eyes. God knows what was going through her head. It had been too much for her– she had already lost a son, her wife, and now she feared losing everyone else. We were reliving our childhood, and I knew she was well aware, but it felt so wrong.

Everything was a haze.

Lucy and I had been with Ruslan for almost five years now. We were both thirteen, and Ruslan had treated us well enough. Lucy had become vengeful and resentful towards everyone, and she often wandered off during the night doing who knows what. She would be gone for long hours, from dusk to dawn, and I always watched her sneak around.

She managed to keep this little habit hidden for longer than I expected, but all things eventually end. It was terrifying. Ruslan was enraged, and they spent a long five hours in the basement. I heard screams and yells, and I struggled to fall asleep. After that, Lucy didn't sneak out.

The house was quiet, and I spent most days upstairs, alone with my thoughts. There was always a strange air in the house, like a thick quilt of awkwardness. Perhaps it was because he knew we weren't a real, functioning family, or maybe it was some other, hidden secret.

Everything went on as normal until it hit dinnertime. I noticed on the way downstairs that there was a strange outline underneath Lucy's dress. I decided to ignore it– it would be better not to talk to her, not with how she'd been acting lately. Inside the dining room it was hushed and warm, and the air was filled with the scent of meat. Venison, probably.
Dinner was as usual. We sat together at the dining table and ate quickly, hurried to get back to our rooms for the night. Lucy finished first, and she took her plate into the kitchen, where she stayed for a few minutes before returning to the dining room. I ducked under the table.

Lucy had a gun. She must've gotten it during one of her nightly escapades, and she held it up, pointing it straight as Ruslan. Oh my god, oh my god. I didn't know what to do. I kept hidden under the table, clutching the tablecloth in fear that Lucy would shoot me too. There was silence for a few seconds before Ruslan spoke.

"What the hell are you doing? Put the gun down, Luz."

Lucy said nothing in return. It was quiet once more. So, Ruslan spoke again.

"You don't know what you're doing. Put the gun down, and we can talk about this. You were nothing without me, you know that, Luz? You need me. You ne–"

Bang.

My breath caught in my throat. Ruslan's dead body dropped, and I saw his lifeless eyes just staring at me. He didn't move, and blood was seeping out of a gunshot wound in his chest. I felt my vision grow blurry and my breathing became labored. With a small 'thump' my head hit the ground. My vision went black.

A few hours later I awoke to the sound of running water. Thank god I wasn't dead. I sat up, and upon realizing I was in my bed, I seemed to relax a bit. The light was on in the bathroom, so I got up and headed down the hall. Lucy was in there washing her hands like nothing had happened, and the gun she used sat on the counter next to her. Her hands were stained with blood, and so was the sink.
Once she realized I was there, she turned to me, but she seemed different. Something was off. She didn't say anything, she just turned off the water, grabbed the gun, and pushed past me.

I was starting to rethink everything.