Time To Save You!
Without a Face, the Bridge of Cliffs
Lucy Florist's. Hamilton, South Lanarkshire, Scotland. April 19, 1872
His trauma has not gone away, his fear and the shadow of Paul on the shop doorstep still haunts him. Lucy should have been in the hospital, or rather her own home to calm herself down, but all she did was go back to her shop, staying there until midnight.
John, Emily, and Elric have allowed her to re-create the incident 23 hours ago from her own point of view. Lucy just wanted to find a piece of her memory that might have disappeared for a moment from being too shocked this morning. More importantly, Lucy assumes that the person she sees as Paul's killer will reappear in the same place.
Who knows?
Maybe the killer wanted to check out the place where he used to do it. Or maybe Lucy is the next target? Such conjectures depart from Lucy's own intuition, and are tentatively approved by John to prove.
Lucy let out a long sigh, calming herself down in the dark room. He sat at a small table where he used to arrange flowers with Emily, with a white rose in his limp hand. There is no specific purpose, though it is impressive that he is still mourning Paul's death.
Ah, the white rose is also Paul's favorite, and it seems that Lucy's subconscious remains in memory of the man amid sharp murder charges leveled against him.
Lucy also regrets it, as she did not open the door for Paul much longer. Maybe if Lucy held back her emotions better last night, this incident wouldn't have happened. Continuing like that, Lucy was busy with her thoughts. His gaze was blank, his hearing was hollow before he finally heard something...
SSAK!
Lucy reflexes turned. The voice was heard from the surroundings, but he did not know where exactly the sound was coming from.
A TAP!
A TAP!
The voice was getting clearer and clearer, this time it was not a shoe-like sound that came into contact with the sand-covered paving road, but truly one's steps.
Lucy slowly moved from her seat, walking silently behind the entrance, peering out from the glass side of the upper door. It was just dark there, some of the streetlights even went out, making Lucy even more difficult to observe the conditions outside. Inevitably Lucy had to step forward, even now without hesitation the girl opened the door.
KRIEET!
Really quiet, quiet. Sometimes Lucy rolled her eyes, but no one really crossed in front of her shop. However, in the end Lucy focused her gaze on the shoulder of the road several tens of meters ahead, just below the dead streetlight. That's where Lucy saw the figure yesterday, and it turned out...
Tonight, he reappeared at the same place.
The figure looked down, making Lucy again unable to see her face.
Lucy froze in place, clenching her hands gathering courage. Should he run and hold that figure right now? But the man carried a weapon in his hand, just like yesterday. That would be dangerous.
"John, where is he?" mumbling Lucy, John should have been around as planned. "Oh my God..."
"Oh?"
Lucy did not think long, she came out of her shop, walked briskly half-running barefoot in the streets, chasing the figure who also walked quickly to the east.
"Stop!" Lucy screamed with her raucous and quivering voice. "Stop! Hey!" Lucy kept running, chasing after a figure that seemed to be a man, when seen from the figure behind her.
"You!"
The figure of the gunman did not hear, just kept walking down. Lucy almost grabbed the tip of her coat, but she lost again quickly when the man turned right, into a very dark street alley without a single beam of light. Lucy could not even see the path she stood on, only she grimaced a few times when she felt the soles of her feet stuck in something sharp.
Intuition guided.
The only clue was the sound of the man's footsteps continuing to be heard speeding forward. The man is no longer visible, but Lucy's instincts say that the distance to the man is back away, so he speeds up his pace.
"Please stop!" His voice is now echoing.
Lucy was astonished, why was the reflection of her voice that loud? Though as he remembered the dark path was limited to brick and clay walls that should absorb sound. Why is it like being in Goa?
"Aah!"
"God..."
Lucy stalled, her feet mired into something watery, perhaps a deep well or deep puddle. Unfortunately, Lucy can't see what's happening to her legs. The place was completely dark, even now it felt like a vacuum when Lucy stopped her steps.
The girl twisted her body, fumbled, suddenly losing her orientation. "Where is this..."
A TAP!
A TAP!
The sound of that step was heard again. However, in contrast to before, the move sounded closer to him instead of moving away like before. Lucy began to tremble, slowly retreating, away from the puddle of water that left her mired.
A TAP!
The sound of the move now stopped, along with Lucy who felt someone stop a step in front of her. "Who are you?"
"Hhhhh..."
It was not a sigh, but it sounded more like the remains of a new echo until after propagating in empty space. "You.. who killed Paul?" Lucy asked with a trembling voice. For fear, revenge, and hate.
There was no answer, but in the next seconds, Lucy rounded her perfect eyes. The girl silenced her own mouth, stepping back limping as soon as a streak of dim white light suddenly appeared along with a thick fog, revealing the figure completely.
Lucy's really freaked out right now.
That figure has no face.
His head only looked like a flat black mask with no cap-covered shape.
The figure stepped up, drawing closer to Lucy, making the girl retreat. "T-please..."
"Who are you? Who're you?!" Lucy shouted, her voice echoing more than ever. He no longer cared what was behind him, he just continued walking backwards. He accidentally stumbled over something and fell down...
KRK!
"Aaaaah! Help!!" Lucy called out in despair.
Out of nowhere, Lucy is suddenly on top of a worn-out rope bridge, bobbing there. Both his legs and body had already plunged into an abyss so deep that it was basically invisible. His life is now on the verge of nadir, relying only on his hands holding on to the two threads of the bridge rope.
The faceless figure stopped at the end of the bridge, facing Lucy who was on the verge of death. But the man seemed to have no compassion. He pulled out his gun, pointed it at Lucy.
"Don't..."
"Please don't..." Lucy was already crying, resigned to her life that might be coming to an end.
KRK!
DOR'S!
DOR'S!
Lucy's hand held off, her body falling into a misty abyss. In a split second, both of his eyes still caught the figure of the shooter at the end of the bridge. Lucy stuck out her hand, but it meant nothing because everything was empty, silent, and dark.