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WHEN SHE WAS LITTLE, JULIE Richardson used to read her daughter picture story books about family. While Julie read, Lucy would excitedly point at the pictures, labelling the people 'mom' and 'dad' with glee. Her dainty fingers would then rest on the children, typically boy and girl, and loudly exclaim that was her and Quil – Lucy being the sister, and Quil, the brother. Since then, whenever she thought of brother, she thought of Quil.
She had been raised with strong morals. 'Family is everything,' her mother used to say, 'they're for life'. She was taught that, no matter what, she could be herself amongst family, she would be safe with them, she could trust them. And so, above all else, Lucy Richardson prioritised, valued and loved them.
It was the driving force behind many of her actions, and decisions, and thoughts. Nothing would prevent her from siding with family, nothing would prevent her from defending them. When it came to them, her heart ruled unequivocally, surpassing logic and reason. She was impulsive, reckless and loyal to a fault. But family was all she had left.
Quil did not come home that night, or the night after, or the night after. Lucy felt as though she was suspended in time; passing through a deep void of chilling numbness. Her entire body raged with turbulent emotion. Regret pulsated with every breath, self-loathing settled in every pore, deep hurt embedded heavily on her heart. But most of all, she exhausted herself with worry.
She spent her Friday night awake, unable to sleep, perched in the living room with her eyes trained on the window. Hope had blossomed inside her, desperately wanting her cousin to come back. But after a sleepless night, and as the sun winked on the horizon, it had shattered to a million of tiny fragments.
She needed to see him – to apologise.
As the hours trickled by, and no sight of his lanky figured appeared, she grew beyond restless. She couldn't sit still, and she paced the house. Old Quil had left early, vaguely citing a council meeting. And Joy, well, she had spent the morning locked in her room, and disappeared to a friend's house for the rest of the day. Lucy was alone, with her only company the pounding thoughts in her mind.
She called Quil's phone, only to hear it ring in his destroyed room. Her heart sunk. So, she cleaned his room. It didn't help calm her mind. She cleaned her own room. Nothing. She sat down and opened her textbooks, tried to study. She found it hard to focus.
Lucy felt awful. If she hadn't been so insistent, Quil wouldn't have gotten angry and none of this would have happened. But he had been so temperamental the past week; she was rightfully concerned, as his cousin. The Quil she knew would never raise his voice at her or storm off. There was something wrong, but her mistake was that she assumed he would confide in her.
