Lucy's Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 15, 2016

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Submitted: December 15, 2016



The Start Of My Story


 “Tell me, Lucy, why'd ya do it? Rob a bank I mean. You had a decent job, even parents that called you the light of their world. More than most others, too. So why?”

“You’re asking me, a psychopath like none others, why she would kill people and make money while doing it? Geez, officer, no idea there. How about the money? You know, the millions I made while I told other people what to do? Fucking money rules the world, and why should I bother changing that, officer, and keep my time at a restaurant that has everyone grabs my ass and call me ‘babydoll’ when I can just kick back and watch others kill for me?”

“Because most people would change jobs because they don’t like killing oth-”

“What was a rhetorical question, dipshit. Gonna send me off to jail or what? You caught me, unfair and fuckin’ square, in my home. Game over, right?”

“And there’s no other reason, mam, for the crime?”

 “Like what? Men? Hell nah. Had myself one before he got caught up to date on my job, thank to you no less. Status? I was the lead of my group, thank you very much. Money is the only thing I needed, and all I got.”

“So just the money? Nothing else, huh?”

“And out of boredom. I’ll tell ya, killing people is one hell of a fucking dopamine rush.”

“I’ll take your word for it, Ms. Jane. Now, start from the start, will ya?”

 “My pleasure, sir. Well, a loong time ago, there was a big-”

 “Your start. The day ya went nuts.”

 “I can do that too, sir.


I was running the bar area myself. Boss outa town for a meeting of some form, like always not telling me exactly where or why. Of course, I get the men yelling at me for more drinks, and to put it on all their tabs. Men grabbing me crazy, pinching me anywhere their hands could reach, and their hands could reach a lot of places. I almost wanted to slap a couple guys when that one girl, don’t know the name of, came in and told me my shift was over.

I put on my normal clothes, a long fitting dress and a brown fur coat that covered my arms from the cold. A small purse that goes over my shoulders finish the look to make me look richer than I am, and on the inside a 45 magnum. I step outside, hearing the door close loudly, like that of a gunshot. Though I was all too used to it. I take a step, feeling my heels break the top layer of ice on the ground with a crunch. This, too, I was used to. What I was not used to was seeing my car get picked up by a tow truck.

“Hey, what’s the big idea?!” I went as fast as I could in heels in the snow. It felt like running in a dream. Running without getting anywhere.

“Parked illegally, mam. If you want ya car back, better pay this.” He hands me a ticket.

I sigh as he drives off. Nothing I could do about that. No car ride home, how great. I take a cigar from my purse and smoke one. The cold, the stress, all melts away with one puff. Felt better than a warm bath with scented candles and a young man, that’s how good a cigar felt to me.

After a little while of waiting in the parking lot with just me and my cigar, I got to thinking about my life and what I’ve done so far. Work at a deadbeat job, a place where they do nothing but treat me wrong. Why should I stay here? Do what they tell me to? I toss away the butt onto the ground as it makes a little puddle in the ice as I start another one. If I wanted to, I could just run away. Do something with my life. Change myself. Be out there.

A scream, then a gunshot, both ringing through the air like thunder. I turn my head, but like the door I’m all too used to it. A man runs around the corner, looks at me, and I merely nod my head to him. Though I reach for my purse, only me knowing about the gun.

I look him up and down, a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Running shoes help with the get away, I suppose, while also being inconspicuous. Pale skin like most the people ‘round here, along with dark hair under a hoodie.

“Got a ride you can drive me in? Needa get home and such.” I take a step to him. “Ain’t lookin’ for trouble. Just a ride.”

He looks me up and down. “O’ corse. If ya don’ tell a soul.” He sounded foreign, but having a person from outa town might be nice. Help bring focus off me. He smiles. “Don’ wanna shoot a pretty gal’s face off, ether.”

I thought telling him I have a husban might do more harm than good. “We just met, hun. Tell me your name, sweet pea, and we can arrange somethin’.” That’ll do.

He ran back down the street a little, then drives back up in my co-worker’s car. I felt sick to my stomach, like I saw a puppy get thrown off a cliff because he couldn’t sit. Or like there was a cup of spiders and told ‘drink up.’ I get in anyway, with my blood curtling inside me.

“Where ya goin’ to, doll?” He looks at me.

I just sigh. I point the gun at his head. “You showed you could kill. To the bank with us.”

“To the bank it is, god.”

“Name’s Lucy. But god is nice, too.”

“Name’s James. Don’ call me a mystic, but ya ganna be taking more tha’ a small lone from te bank, huh?” I don’t answer. How would someone answer? “Betta question. How we gonna ‘scape the po?”

I sigh. Didn’t think far enough. I look around the car, and in the back were some crude, ceramic-doll masks. I take one of the masks and put it on me.

“Wow, that’ scarier tha’ I thought. ‘Posed to be fo’ a child’s party.” He laughed at was, seemingly, supposed to be a joke. I didn’t.

I had him one. “Come on, Smiley.”



When we got outside the bank, we both took a gun and went in. He seemed calmer than cat next to an insane cat woman. Or at least, calmer than a guy who was forced to drive a car to a bank to rob it would be.

We put on the masks and enter, shooting the cameras as we enter.

“Everyone on the fucking ground!” My voice is calm, I've thought about this day too long for I've not to be, though I am scared.

“Yeah, everyon’ get down, ya little-” gunshots cut him off, though I can hear his swearing. They must have seen us a mile away, a girl with a gun to a man's head. I shoot whoever I can and raid their wallets, not caring about the lives lost. All the cash was ours now. Sirens go off behind us, police Sirens specifically. We both run to the back and exit from the emergency only door.

“Got twenty.” I count up the cash. Two fives and a ten.

“Fifty,” James said, “I win.”

I fake laugh.  Seventy, thirty-five buck each.

“it's a start.” James pockets the cash, “now what?”


“No more crimes?

“Sadly.” I look at the cards in one of the wallets. An ID card with the name Sara on it. “Poor Sara. Tomorrow's her birthday.”

He laughs. “Now we're wanted. Got ya car thingy.”

“Ain't my car.” I laugh. I hadn't planned a thing but may have gotten away with it anyway.

I felt this was the start of a friendship.

© Copyright 2019 Eva Rose. All rights reserved.

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