The Chase [Chenford]

Undisclosed

Lucy POV:

The panic in my veins doesn't recede at the sight of the metal barrel. It heightens with every breath and every step my husband takes. "Come sit down." He offers a hand to a disheveled dining chair on the opposing wall from the atrocious centerpiece. 

"Now, Becca, I need to explain a few things to you." He stands above me, my tattered frame beneath him; both physically and metaphorically. I feel so trapped under his gaze.

I nod out of pure curiosity, reaching for strands of former memories. 'The nurse in scrubs, the hospital, the car ride, the song.' I rethink like a prayer to myself. 'I can remember things.'

"Do you remember Rosalind?" He questions, hope mixed with excitement painted on his face. "No." The words leave my lips before my mind can fully articulate the words said to me. After what felt like forever, I ended the response again with "I don't."

"She's a family friend of mine." He said holding a firm grasp on both of my hands, the trembling only worsening as his hold doesn't seem to be diminishing. My eyes graze throughout his facial structure and over the rest of his body, trying to make any attempt at examining his body language.

It all falls to no use. I have no recollection of the person standing above me. Nothing forms a memory of the person I chose to share my life with. Quizzing and prodding what could be untrue is no use, especially when I wouldn't know what the difference between the two would look like on him.

"Okay," I whisper out with a slow, shallowed nod. "Okay," I repeat, not for him, but for myself to cling to any form of stability. 

"She wasn't proud of how everything happened the last time we did this." His hands let go of mine as he slumped down in the chair across from me. His lips quiver into an attractive smile, one that eases and calms the ache in my chest as the words continue to spew out. 

"So we're going to try again." His smile grows in happiness at the shock that enters my facial features. My head feels fuzzy, my arms go numb and my body purely aches at nothing I could comprehend. 

"Try what?" Hearing my voice crack and tremble underneath the stronger frame of Caleb diminishes my hope of remembering anything. 'How can I not remember this?'

"We need to put you back in." He points to the drum that's sat no more than fifteen feet away from me. "For Rosalind." He urges me to stand along with him. We each take a few steps toward the barrel.

My hips rest against the rim of the rusted metal. The eeriness of the container's view doesn't ease off of me. "So..."

My sentence and tears form at once. "Will Rosalind be proud now?" I ask.

"She will." His smile still shining, the glimpses of sun highlighting it from the kitchen windows. 

I climb into the grimy, yellow barrel and inhale a sharp breath. My gaze meets my husband's with a sorrowful smile. The corresponding lid; equipped with cameras overhead quickly comes into my view.

"Goodbye Lucy." The final words I hear before the clicks of security entangle me in this living hell.