Just Like Lucy Wanted

October 23, 2010
Lucy hates the face that stares back at her in the mirror. Hates it.
The cold, empty green eyes that belong to nobody, but most of all she hates how her hair covers them. Her hair can hide that emptiness, and she wants to shove it in their faces.

I'm empty! I'm lost! She'll say.

She looks at her hair, her long, thick chocolate coloured hair, and then she chops it off.
Lucy hacks at it madly until nothing is left, and then she starts with the skin.

Her flesh is hiding the cave that her heart hides in, and she wants everyone to know just what their foul taunts and snide remarks have cost her.
So she cuts and pulls her skin open wide, blood pools down as she opens her scalp, but she's not done, not nearly done. Sure, people will now see what she looks like on the inside, but they need to understand that they have killed her.

It started with the hair, and it ended in a bloody mess.

And now she's lying on the bathroom floor without a pulse.

Soon it will occur to them that Lucy is dead, and then they'll be sorry. Just like she wanted.

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