Author's Note:
I told you I would post the next chapter in a week, didn't I? Hopefully you'll find this more eventful than the last chapter ;).
Enjoy!
Chapter Four
Lucy stuffs the money into the top of her neon blue, lace corset with a sigh. She then exits through the red, velvet curtains into the dimly lit hallway, leaving the middle-aged man seated in the center of the room to revel in his lustful state as she shuffles over to the bar. Spotting her friend's white head of hair and neon pink lingerie of the day (in case it wasn't made clear, on Tuesdays they wear neon), she unceremoniously plops on a stool before Mira and sets her head on the table with an unladylike groan. The barmaid giggles at the blonde's antics before setting aside the glass she was polishing in order to crouch down to Lucy's level with a smile. "What's the matter, Lucy?" she asks sweetly with her blue eyes bright, "Did the lap dance not go well?"
Lucy rolls her eyes. The lap dance was fine. She gave the guy a boner, he gave her twenty Jewels; it was just another normal business transaction. The blonde shakes her head. "It's not that."
Mira furrows her brow; Lucy sounds upset, and Lucy is never upset. Sure, she's seen the girl blow a casket and drag their poor old boss down a flight of stairs by the few hairs left on his head, but she's never seen Lucy this visibly disheartened. Something very bad must have happened, and she knows what Lucy's homelife is like. She's one of the few people trying to get Lucy out of Bora's apartment, after all. Mira pushes a soft strand of golden hair out of Lucy's droopy brown eyes. "Then, what happened?"
Lucy sighs; that's exactly what she's been trying to figure out. The events from the past few days have her wires all crossed. First, she was going to leave the place she wasn't forced to stay at, but stayed at because she didn't want to turn to her friends for help. Then, when she does turn to said friends for help, she is forced to stay in the place she was going to leave because some pink-haired freak (that she thought was some mystical unicorn until he showed up in her apartment and bared his draconic fangs at her) wants her to stay and play 'spy' for him. If she doesn't play along, she loses and he kills her best friend. The same best friend that has been ignoring her for the past two days, as if to say a big 'fuck you' for not letting her drag Lucy's ass out of that cursed apartment.
So, as much as she'd love to confide in Mira (as she usually does when she needs to sort out her problems), she knows she can't. Not without endangering the barmaid, too. She'd rather screw herself over than involve another friend in her mess… especially when she doesn't know whom this guy is and what he's capable of.
For all she knows, he's bluffing, but she's too chicken shit to go against his orders because there's always the part of her that sings, "What if?" What if he's not bluffing? What if he does know who Cana is? What if he does kill her? What if he's tracking her? What if he has eyes on her right now?
Lucy frantically whips her head around her, practically crashing from her seat as she does only to be saved by Mira who lunges over the counter to grab her wrist. She gives Mira a sheepish smile. "Nothing, just…" she shrugs and scratches the back of her head with a nervous laugh, "tired, I guess."
Mira purses her lips. She can tell it's a lie, if Lucy's owlish eyes and fake laugh are anything to go by, but she knows better than to press the girl any further. Her innate motherly instincts are telling her to leave her child be (although said 'child' is only a few years younger than her) because she trusts that if Lucy wants her to know, she'll tell her. Mira just needs to give the girl some time.
Her blue eyes scan Lucy's face intently and Mira's grip on Lucy's wrist tightens, causing the blonde to shift uncomfortably. "Why don't you go home?" She finally says, "I'll ask Sherry to take up your tables, hm? Have her return the favor from the other day?"
Lucy nods, relief flooding her when Mira releases her and her face returns to its content default look. "Get some rest." She says before shooing Lucy off and calling Sherry over with a smile.
Lucy slides off the stool and makes her way to the hall leading to the locker room before looking towards Cana one final time. She spots the brunette easily, her neon orange panty set acting as a beacon through the dark club, and Lucy hopes that the other girl would just glance her way; that she'll drop the act and stop being angry with her… but Cana never does. Lucy watches as brown and orange disappear into the crowd.
She sighs. She doesn't like being at odds with Cana. Cana is one to hold a grudge, and she can hold it for a long time, so it doesn't necessarily surprise her that the brunette is still upset with her. She just wishes she wasn't. She can't tell if Cana ignoring her is making all of this harder or easier, and she just wishes she could make the other girl understand.
She pushes through the door of the changing room and heads straight to her locker. She is quick to change out of her uniform into street clothes, of which consists of a jean skirt, green tank top, and a shorter pair of pumps, and stuffs the usual (money, bus pass, phone, keys) into her bra. She slams her locker shut and glances at herself in the mirror, impressed that her makeup covering the dark bruises scattered about her body stayed on throughout the night. She's going to have to buy some more of this drugstore foundation when she gets the chance. She then shoves her way out of the exit and makes her way to her bus stop a few blocks away.
She glances at the bench accompanying her stop and decides to remain standing, even when her legs begin to ache and she begins to wonder why her bus still hasn't arrived. She checks the time on her phone. It was half past two. Her bus was supposed to get here fifteen minutes ago. She sighs; it must be out of order again.
With a groan and a negative mindset stemming from the fact that she now had to walk some thirty blocks to reach her bed, she begins her long trek east, but not before pulling out her keys to hold defensively between her fingers. Magnolia at night was an interesting place, to say the least; there was no harm in being too careful, especially in midtown.
Lucy came to learn early on that midtown was the worst area of Magnolia, simply because the concentration of people was highest here and the concentration of jobs lowest. People here were unhappy, unhealthy, and desperate; the perfect storm for higher crime rates as it coincides with their frustration and hate. Even now, as she hurries down the sidewalk and holds her arms close to her chest and keeps her head down so as to not attract attention to herself, Lucy can feel the despair, the loathing, and wants to fold in on herself and disappear.
The cement below her feet becomes a blur as she walks, and the noises around her act as her only guide in her travels. She catches the shouts of a bickering couple. The cry of a baby. The rustling of someone taking out the trash. Police sirens; both near and far and everywhere. Glass breaking. Dogs barking. Firecrackers (or so she pretends). Men shouting and hollering, coming from what seems like everywhere and she picks up the pace so as to avoid them and their shouts.
The muted sound of soft jazz spilling through the bottom of a dark door.
Lucy pauses.
She looks up. She spots a pair of sneakers hanging from the power line above her head. She turns to find a man sleeping on a newspaper in the mouth of an alley. She isn't out yet, but she is almost. Almost.
She continues on her way, scrunching up her nose at the smell of piss and gas and smoke, but powers through until she watches trees suddenly begin to sprout from the ground and with their rise the giant buildings shrink. All the noise fades away into silence and Lucy crosses the last street of this section until she is balancing on the edge of the canal, gazing into its inky waters shimmering silver in the moonlight. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, and allows her heart to beat in time with the lull of the wooden docks pushing against the walls with every swell of the canal, feeling all the knots within her untie themselves as she looks down at her lone reflection. She's out.
Once outside of the center of Magnolia; to the east and south where lay the sea, to the north and west where sprouted strong mountains; Magnolia is relatively safe. It's protected by the money of the upper class that trickles from the outside in and, of course, the organized crime group (called Fairy Tail, if she remembers correctly) that promises protection in return for money.
She had first learned about the group when she and her mother first came to Magnolia. The bookstore her mother worked at was protected by them, and although the owner had to pay a large sum for their services, they found that it was worth it. One day, a kid trying to get into a gang lit the store on fire, destroying everything. Nothing, not even the building itself, could be saved. The next day, the kid's house and the houses of all the other members of the gang were set on fire.
The mafia's not as prominent in midtown because the people there can't afford their services, instead relying on the cops who barely uphold any justice. In the past, Lucy's debated on contacting the group to help her get rid of Bora, but aside from the fact that she could never afford their help, she doesn't even know how she would go about contacting one of them. It's not like they just magically appeared when you say their name three times.
Aside from the mafia, Lucy believes that Magnolia being a port city and its location in regards to the rest of the world helps it in remaining relatively safe as it is an overall prosperous trading ground, meaning the majority of the people were doing well, too. At least, those whose neighborhood she is coming upon now.
Lucy slips her keys back into her bra and begins to walk along the wall of the canal due north. Some vestiges of the center follow her, like the smell of alcohol and a stray cat here and there, but majority of them remain hidden behind the buildings facing the waterfront. Some were businesses, though many of them were dark save for a few closing restaurants, but many of the buildings were strictly residential. One such building she was coming upon now.
It was a two-story building, housing only two apartments, and it stood on the opposite side of the canal. From the outside, it was any other normal building, made from stucco and stone with windows and a plain front door; it was nothing special, but Lucy loves it. She can imagine herself waking up to the canal every morning and walking along it to get wherever she needs to be. In the summers, she can see herself throwing on a bathing suit and walking down the canal until she reaches the beach, just like she and her mom used to do.
When they first came to Magnolia, she and her mom would spend every Sunday from the first week of summer to the last at the beach. They would put on their nicest swimsuits and venture from their one-bedroom apartment uptown all the way to the downtown beaches where only the rich were allowed in and them, lugging their towels and chairs and coolers, because they made friends with the security guards that snuck them in through the side.
Two years ago, she went to an open house for the second-floor apartment, just to check it out, and ever since she's been obsessed with trying to save enough money to live there one day. She wonders if anyone's moved in since.
Lucy seethes as her ankle rolls from an uneven stone in the wall. Her feet are already killing her, so this wasn't exactly helping. She still had to walk another fifteen blocks to Bora's apartment. She debates on taking off the monstrous death traps known as shoes, but ultimately decides against it as her other option is walking barefoot (and that's disgusting). So, she sucks it up and keeps walking.
After another block or two, Lucy begins to grow bored and starts to sing the song that's been stuck in her head for the past week (thanks to Cana) whilst pretending to be a gymnast as the wall of the canal grows terribly thin; so much so that she almost slips and falls in. Thankfully, she catches herself, feeling her heart practically explode out of her chest as she does.
"Okay," she mumbles, quivering as she steps off the wall, "maybe I should walk down here until the wall widens up again."
She thinks it's a good plan and after a couple of feet, the wall begins to thicken up again. As she places her hands down to heave herself up, though, she stops. A high-pitched whine reaches her ears, and at first, she can't tell if it's coming from a human or an animal. She tries to listen harder, and when she can't decipher it, she decides to follow it.
She pushes off of the wall and follows the noise into a side street. It begins to grow clearer and she recognizes it to belong to a man, only she can tell now that he's saying something. She can't make out the words, though, and wanders closer to the source. She finds herself at the mouth of an alley where another male voice has joined the man's whines. Although she can't make out exactly what either are saying, the contrast between the high tones of the first voice and the low monotone of the second make her believe that whatever they're talking about is nothing good.
A loud crack fills the alley and billows out to ring in her ears. Lucy feels her body tense at the sound that is followed by another high-pitched whine. She feels every cell in her body screaming at her to run away, but she fights the urge to do because she's come this far and instead peeks in.
Though dark, she can make out four figures dressed in suits surrounding a buff man clad in nothing but his underwear with his arms and legs tied together. His eyebrow is split, shrouding his face and neck in a thin layer of blood, and the area around his left eye is red and swollen. The large man is kneeling on the ground facing her and another man whose back is to her. She squints, and she can make out face of one of the larger men before her blood runs cold.
Long black hair, red eyes, covered in piercings; she knows him.
Her eyes flit to another man, shorter than the last yet just as close to the man in the center.
Floppy navy hair, droopy dark eyes, half the buttons of his shirt undone… she knows him, too.
Both were in Bora's apartment three days ago, which means that the one whose back is to her must be…
His deep monotone voice resonates throughout the alley, and she stands, transfixed by him as the man below him cowers. The beat-up man was at least twice his size; how could that massive brute of a man be sniveling at his feet? Just who was this man?
He holds a hand out to droopy eyes and droopy eyes takes a gun out of his jacket and attaches something to the end of it before handing it to him. He then points the gun at the man's head and shoots.
Lucy gasps as the body drops to the ground without a sound and quickly covers her mouth, realizing her mistake when she sees him freeze. She watches with wide eyes as he turns to face her, shoving the gun into the back of his pants as he begins to stalk towards her, leaving his men to clean up his mess.
Lucy is screaming at her body to move but all she can do is stare into his black eyes and feel the fear that keeps her rooted to her spot. He gets closer and she feels her mouth sucking in air, but her lungs refuse it. Black dots begin to fill her vision and her limbs feel like lead. Why can't she breathe? Why can't she move?
Then, as if flipping a switch, she peels off the wall and begins sprinting towards the canal. If she can get to the canal, she can jump in and be swept to the port, far away from him. She feels her legs burn as she moves and her rolled ankle cry as she pounds down the street. She feels herself begin to grow cold and she nears the mouth of the street. She's almost there. Almost.
She makes it to the corner when arms encircle her upper body and she falls, crashing to the ground with a cry. She unexpectedly lands on her back, on top of him, and begins screaming her head off only to find that her screams are muffled by his hand over her mouth. He then drags them off of the ground with a grunt and she continues to kick against his hold and scream into his hand, nails digging into the jacket on his forearms as she does. She throws her head back against him and he seemingly expects it, using this to further restrict her movements by holding her head against his chest. She closes her eyes tight because she doesn't want to see him.
He holds her tightly to him until she gets all the fight out of her; until all her energy is spent and she can no longer wriggle against his grasp. She realizes her attempts at escape are futile; he's too strong. She just holds onto his forearm and leans against him, tears escaping from her eyes to run down her cheeks and catch on his hand. She tries to calm down by breathing deeply through her sobs.
She opens her eyes and looks up at him through the tears. His dark eyes are stones; the farthest thing from the sable shields and even farther from the malleable charcoal she remembers. Heartless, lifeless stones that stare down at her as if she's the issue, not him. She's the issue because she saw him kill someone; he's not the issue because killing is just what he does.
Her heart clenches. More tears fall. Killing probably is just what he does. Killing people is normal to him. He's probably going to kill her right now; with the silent gun and then throw her in the canal when he's done.
She suddenly feels the need to puke.
He suddenly removes his hand from her mouth. Then, he removes himself entirely from her.
She feels her eyes widen as he steps away from her, and she trembles as she curls in on herself. She turns to face him and gulps.
There he stood. Salmon hair falling messily around his head. Black suit crumpled and dirty with a tear in the elbow from falling on the floor. Face relaxed; almost soft when his chapped lips part, "Go," he rumbles.
She straightens as she meets his eyes and rub at the tears still trailing down her face. The stones had softened into obsidian clay. "Thank you," she whispers, her throat and mouth dry and hoarse from the running, screaming, and crying.
His eyes flicker over her. They meet hers again, this time, they are hard, but not permanently so. "I'll be visiting you soon, Lucy."
888
When she enters, he's there. She can tell he's been drinking.
He's quick to spot her from his spot on the couch.
"Lucy," he purrs, causing her stomach to clench, "come over here and suck my dick."
All she can see is the scarlet lazily traveling along the floor of the alley towards her. The massive man with a bullet lodged in his head. Eyes and mouth wide in shock at his own death. And him. He did it. He shot him. So effortlessly. As if it was stepping on an ant.
"Not tonight, Bora." She mumbles, grabbing the pitcher of water from the fridge and pouring herself a glass. Her head is pounding.
"I said," he raises his voice; he's more irritable now that he's been drinking, "suck my dick."
She closes her eyes and is met by his dark ones.
He let her go.
Lucy brings the glass to her lips, biting out the words, "And I said, not tonight."
Suddenly the glass is knocked out of her hands and her cheek is throbbing and Bora is standing over her and glass and water are everywhere and her hand is sliced right open.
"That's what you get, bitch." He spits on her.
Lucy watches from the kitchen floor as he turns off the TV and walks out the front door, kicking a beer can at her head as he does.
She grits her teeth.
She may not trust Pinky, but if helping him means Bora will suffer, then she'll do whatever she needs to do for the bastard.
Hell, she'll probably even kill for him.