Lucy and Mark break up and go there separate ways, only to be brought back together in the worst imaginable situation.

Please comment literally anything you feel I should change :)


10. Alan, inflicting.

Lucy felt like a beating heart trapped in the ribcage of an infected body. Trying so hard to sustain something that was slowly dying, her hope. Hope of anyone coming, of anyone even noticing she was gone.

Alan was standing at the doorway of the warehouse room she had been placed in the middle of. He seemed to be content entertaining himself with opening and closing the flip blade he had adopted as his new toy, endlessly. Lucy tried to distract herself from this and looked up at the grimy A3 sized windows at the top of the building. It was dark out side.

The click of the blade interrupted her thoughts. Not that they were worth thinking.She looked at Allan and swallowed back a sarcastic comment. The clicking of the blade continued, it was driving her mad. As if he could read her thoughts Allan lifted the blade all the way up slowly, his gaze never left her. The sharpened edge of the knife caught the light and shot a beam in her eye, momentarily blinding her. She squeezed her eyes shut and blinked a few times towards the floor trying to get the light out of her eye. She looked up and he was gone. She stared at the spot where he had been standing as her mind raced. She had no idea how she could possibly be scared of such an oaf, but all the same she was. Surprise and relief took over Lucy’s body as she let out a shaky breath she never even realised she was holding. This was the first time she had been alone in a long time.

“What are you so happy about?”

The voice came from behind her.

Her blood ran cold and her heart rate increased by an unhealthy number.

Something sharp pressed into the back of her neck as tears welled up in her yes. She couldn’t look strong anymore, she had nothing left to protect. She stayed absolutely silent as the pressure of the blade on her exposed skin increased. Tears rushed down her face, tears of pain, tears of desperation. A trickle of blood was making its way down her neck as she tried helplessly to twist her hands free from the rope.

“There’s really no use trying,” the words cut almost as deep as the blade.

Alan stepped to in front of her. Her eyes were drawn to the silver blade as a drop of blood welled up and fell to the floor. 

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