The pain in her head was excruciating. Lucy tried to open her eyes, but her vision was blurred. She heard footsteps; someone outside the bedroom door. She thought it was pushed open – there was a shadow. A person? Or were her eyes playing tricks on her?
Lucy could barely move. Voices. She thought she heard voices? From the bathroom but she couldn’t be sure. Was someone was running down the stairs? She never heard the front door. She must be imagining things. What had happened? She remembered flashes: Patrick’s face leering closer, pain and confusion. Violence. But she couldn’t make her mind settle and only flickering images of the previous hours remained.
Lucy raised herself up off the floor, using the bed as leverage. She felt so dizzy and was afraid she’d pass out again. She needed to see what he’d done this time. Her body ached. It took her forever to reach the bathroom. The dizzy spells were overwhelming, the whole building rocked under her feet, and she had to stop every few seconds.
Pushing open the door, the mirror directly ahead, Lucy stifled a scream. This was too much. She hardly recognized herself. Enough was enough, she was going to call the police and press charges this time. Lucy was struggling to remember exactly what had happened, but the damage to her face told enough of a story. Turning to leave, Lucy noticed someone was in the bath. It was Patrick. A knife stuck out of his chest, his eyes wide open, and milky. Blood pooled around and sloshed all over the tub. He was dead.
Lucy couldn’t remember what had happened. Someone had killed Patrick and her greatest fear was that she was that someone.