What Kind of Man || Jim Moriarty

Four

Her feet were glued to the spot. Lucy's limbs felt like they had rusted stiff and she even found it difficult to move her eyes so that she could look at Abigail's full reflection. The woman's face was a picture, but instead of it amusing Lucy like it would on any other day, it filled her with dread. She could already hear Mr Samson running up the many flights of stairs after hearing his wife's scream, but she was still trying to think of something to do. She couldn't just remain stuck to the spot forever.

"What are you doing?" Mrs Samson's voice sounded again and it was then that Lucy finally turned in her spot and looked the woman dead in the eyes.

"Nothing." It was poorly delivered, stuttered and weak, he voice breaking halfway through the word. Lucy's eyes were like a deer caught in the cross roads and her hands shivered obviously by her sides. It was embarrassing, how she was acting.

"Nothing? Our shit is everywhere!" It wasn't until Abigail scoffed a laugh under her breath that Lucy really came back to it all. That one sound, no matter how quiet or simple is what lit the fire behind the housekeepers eyes. She felt the anger flare up in her, from the bottom of her stomach until she was itching to scream at the woman.

Lucy knew she was the one in the wrong here, she had been caught. How she hadn't heard them coming up the stairs she didn't even know. But she hadn't and now the woman she couldn't stand more than anything else in the world stood in front of her smirking like a patronising cow.

"So?" The sudden confidence in her voice was noticeable and it seemed to straighten out Abigail's face. "I was cleaning." The older woman narrowed her eyes at Lucy and huffed as the footsteps drew nearer. She didn't have a clue what was going to happen, how it was going to happen. The guy had a gun, a gu-....the gun.

Lucy swallowed hard and moved her eyes from Abigail as slowly as possible, turning her head to focus on the gun which was exactly where she'd left it. Oh god. Her thoughts were purely centred around one thing as her heart began to race and she began to panic. She was in too deep. She should have saw it coming. She...

"What's wrong? What-" Mr Samson's voice trailed off as he reached the door to the master bedroom. As his eyes met his wife, they were full of worry but then as he noticed the mess of his things by the bed and then Lucy stood wearing the necklace, they filled with rage. "What the hell is going on?"

She didn't mind Abigail, the woman could easily be put in her place and Lucy would have no problem being the one to do so. But her husband Peter? He was a tall man, old, but he still towered over her. His dark brown eyes were uncomfortable to look at in that moment and Lucy could see his hands turning into fists in the corner of her eye. That's when her brain broke with the panic, fight or flight kicked in and there was no way out for her to run.

Lucy eyed the gun slowly again, but kept glancing back at Mr Samson who soon followed her gaze and became wide eyed at the sight of his private property sprawled out on the bed. It happened in an instance. Lucy's mind and movements were took over by fear and she moved first, harshly moving forward to get to the bed. Peter was only a second behind and pushed around his wife to beat her, but he lost and badly. He had barely reached the foot of the bed by the time Lucy had the barrel of the gun pointed towards his chest. She'd practically leapt across the opposite side of the bed from where Peter now stood, her only aim being to knock the weapon out of their reach to keep her out of dangers way. But within seconds, without trying or thinking, her fingers had wrapped around the gun and she'd stretched it out in front of her.

"Now!" Peter raised his hands up by his head, eyes wide, and looked at Lucy as he released a deep breath.

"Keep away from me." She interrupted him, never taking her eyes off the man but keeping a note of where Abigail was, making sure she stayed away from her too. Lucy could feel her hands shaking and she'd never felt her heart beat as fast as it was now. It was like she could see herself, like she as watching the whole situation but it wasn't her holding the gun, like the point of view of a dream.