Hi. I'm making this into a full length story! Lucy's POV. I hope you all like it. This is basically how Lucy copes with Lockwood'd death. I hope I've written it good enough for you all. (:
The rain was falling in slow-motion, splashing onto the black lid of the coffin. His coffin.
Everything seemed to have been slowed down and turned hazy. I hadn't seen things clearly since that night at Combe Carey, hadn't felt anything properly, hadn't been out of my bedroom. His childhood bedroom. I hadn't talked to anyone. I refused to answer any questions about what happened that night in the catacombs under the most haunted house in Briton.
I was only dimly aware of George stirring me away from the crowd.
"Lucy Carlyle?"
My eyes didn't move. I couldn't bring myself to look into the mans eyes, knowing what he was here for.
"She hasn't spoken since he died," George said in an undertone.
"I see. Leave her with me, I have an important matter to discus with her, regarding Mr. Lockwood's Will."
I lifted my eyes to try and see the stranger who had spoken. I couldn't really see him because of the haze. He was a lawyer.
When he mentioned His death pain shot through me. I sunk to my knees, gasping. I was hollow, empty. The pain wasn't even there. How could I be feeling pain when I had nothing inside me to feel it with? I was nothing. I should have been given the chance to switch places with Him.
"Lucy," the man knelt so he was on my level. "I know it is hard when you lose someone. I have something for you that he wanted you to have. Do you want to see it?" His voice was supposed to sound comforting, I suppose.
Numbly I looked at him. "Yes." It hurt me to speak, when all I wanted was to crawl into bed and stay there until he came home.