The Aftermath

Chapter fourteen

*DON'T OWN THE GIFS OR THE VIDEO* 

Merry Christmas everyone!! 

This chapter is a flashback, please enjoy!

Lucille awoke to the sound of sinister laughter; someone across the secured door was being hauled to the dark room. That's what Lucille called it. Only sixteen years old and already experienced so much revulsion and violence it could psychologically screw with someone's mind. And it has, with her.

Lucille had overlooked how long she's been here, she tried counting the days off by using her nails to mark on the walls, but they then decided to tie her wrists together - to stop her from harming herself and others. 

Tying her wrists together nipped at first but then after a while of shock therapy pain and other traumatic punishments, she just got used to.

The only thing that kept her going was her Thomas. After Lady Beatrice's dead body was taken away Lucille was referred to a mental institution, whereas Thomas was sent to Aunt Florence – who lived far, far away from Allerdale Hall and even further away from the Mental Institution they were keeping Lucille. Suddenly anxiety overwhelmed her, what if he was to marry someone else? Or he was in love with someone else?

No...

Shaking her head, Lucille tried to picture Thomas' face, but time has gone by, he would've changed – and transformed into the handsome gentleman she wanted him to be...for her.

No one else.

Lucille struggled to get up from the ground, in the corner; only when she placed her sore hands on the ground did she wince from pain. It was a quick shot of discomfort, something the body would react to. Hissing to herself inaudibly, making sure no one heard her otherwise they would punish her for her behaviour. Sitting back and leaning against the wall, Lucille felt the tears she shed last night on her pale cheeks. She cried for Thomas and for her home. She missed her room, she missed the attic – playing with Thomas with the toys he made for her especially.

Lucille was about to touch her hair, something to fiddle with. But the instant she did, everything came flooding back. The moment she got here they confiscated her clothes, items and shaved her head. It was easier to locate the exact spots for the shock therapy. She missed to feel her once long locks, which were now all but short spiky hair, some with bald patches before her hands were tied; she would pull her hair out from nervousness.

Lucille coiled back in fright the moment the door burst open and a man in white clothing stood. Lucille remembered to never look at their faces, otherwise they would believe you were too bold or intimidating – but Lucille knew it was just another reason for them to hurt you. It confused her when she saw how much pleasure they had when they were torturing someone – although she murdered her mother, it never pleased her in the way they looked it. Lucille was only pleased her mother was dead because of the horror she put Thomas and herself through. Years of abuse and years of pain were now all gone because Lucille cut the threads that controlled them. Almost like James and Beatrice were the puppet masters and sadly, Thomas and Lucille were the naive puppets.

"Get up," the voice ordered; Lucille obeyed, still leaning on the wall. The man walked over to her and pulled her out the room, only then was she suddenly swarmed with other white clothed people. Two of them gripped onto her arms, tightly, probably causing bruises to form soon. They brought her to another room that looked like her cell, however it had a metal desk with straps attached. Lucille knew what was coming. The hauled her onto the desk and strapped her arms and legs to the desk; she didn't bother to move, they would just hurt her either way.

As the electrical equipment was turned on, and everyone was preparing, the lights dimmed down. Lucille immediately shut her eyes as the two objects were placed on either side of her head. When they switched the machine on, Lucille screamed out, "Thomas!"

***BEWARE OF CRIMSON PEAK***

Thomas sipped on his tea as his aunt was deep in conversation with someone. Although he never spoke - only when he was spoken to - he listened carefully. However, he had a headache and desperately wanted to return to his bed. But his aunt had made him stay down here with her, "it's what a gentleman would do," she would pester him with whenever he wanted to do something himself. This time, he wasn't listening. He was thinking of Lucille. It had been two years since he last saw her, and the last thing she told him was:

"Promise me, Tommy; promise me you won't ever fall in love with anyone apart from me?"

And Thomas remembered he replied with, "I promise, Lucy, I promise you, I only love you." He was twelve at the time and only moments after was sent to live with his Aunt Florence. He hated it here, but at least it was away from Allerdale Hall. However, he would without a doubt return to that crimson waste if it meant to see Lucille again.

As if by coincidence he heard his aunt mention Lucille, he quickly put down his tea and listened carefully. The institution she currently was at weren't allowed visitations or letters to be sent to the patients, although his aunt would never allow it.

"Dreadful child...always has been," Florence whined on, she reminded Thomas of his mother, they had the same features but that was because they were sisters, but Florence was fatter and had more of a round face, whereas Beatrice had a long, high cheek boned face – which he got from her. Florence and Beatrice had the same viciousness. 

Florence's friend replied, "And what treatments is she getting at the institution?"

"Goodness knows, although whatever it is I hope it's brutal and gives her as much decline as a young woman of her age should have, she always was a dirty little thing, always had her hands full of blood from helping out in the kitchen. It was unhealthy, and she had this terrifying obsession with black moths. Whenever I visited, if she wasn't helping her mother around the house she was always reading books about those filthy insects, like her life depended on it!" Florence chuckled, Thomas's eyes narrowed, angrily. Florence went on, "she used to keep them up in her room, hang the dead things on her walls and marvel up at them like she won a trophy."

What Aunt Florence didn't know, was the reasons as to why Lucille always seemed this way. Ever since the Sharpe's began to lose money because of the bad name Sir James was given it, Lady Beatrice had to fire all the servants and staff. This meant poor Lucille had to do everything. Lucille had to endeavour harsh chores such as skinning animals for the kitchen, scrub until her hands bled after having to wash all the walls and floors in the house.

Thomas just stared at Florence as she went on, "well, apparently electroconvulsive therapy is in these days, and I have no doubt that is the treatment Lucille is getting over at...wherever she is."

Shock therapy? Thomas immediately sprang up from his seat and marched out the room, his hands started to shake.

Oh god help her...