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 :)


8. Lucy, questioning

“What do you want? I don’t understand.”

“And here I was thinking you were smart.”

Lucy was exhausted now, she thought she had been here for at least 4 hours. Lucy wanted her phone. She wanted to be able to call someone. Call Mark. Call Emma. She desperately wanted help. Help didn’t look like it was coming.

She looked up and at Sam. Behind his dark eyes she saw mockery. He was mocking her.

“Cut the crap.” She said bluntly, holding eye contact. No reaction registered on his face, but it certainly affected his next actions. In a split second there was a thin strip of metal pushed against her neck. The cool of the blade sent shivers down her spine, causing each and every one of her muscles to tense.

“You lie to me one more time an the only thing I’ll be cutting is your throat.”

Lucy didn’t dare swallow in fear of pushing her throat into the teeth of the blade and piercing her exposed skin. She stayed silent, not willing to say anything wrong in this compromising position.

“That’s more like it. You stay this quiet and you might even live ‘till noon.” He flashed a brilliantly terrifying smile at her as he stood up and regained his professional manner. Straightening out his suit he called for Allan.

“Try and get something out of this one, will you?” He said tipping his head in Lucy’s direction. Allan stumbled in incompetently and fumbled in his pocket for something

“Oh Allan, a word?” The two men turned their backs to Lucy and stared talking in hushed tones. The only words she could pick out were something like ‘Mark’ and ‘Mick.’

Who the hell is Mick, maybe it was Rick.

Rick- where have I heard that name before…

Her thoughts were cut short by what sounded like a spanner being dropped, she snapped her head up only to see what had been dropped was a knife. Allan stood above it and gave Lucy a look, a look as if to say ‘that one’s got your name on it.’

Lucy’s breath started to deepen as she tried to subtly edge her chair away from Allan.

Allan with a knife. 

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