Chapter O3:
Homicidal Tendencies and Little Pink Pluses

"Lulu! How was last night? I really didn't think you had that in ya!"

Lucy felt as if someone had replaced every driblet of blood in her body with liquid nitrogen and turned her bones to stone while they were at it. She vainly urged herself to respond, to do something besides standing there with her mouth hanging open. Her oh-so dear friend's continuous talking turned into an annoying, high-pitched whining sound - like a mosquito that keeps flying around your ear.

Releasing a short, quick, shaky breath to calm herself, Lucy flipped on the autopilot switch in her head.

"Beth, it was horrible!" Lucy griped, grinning viciously at her next words. "His erm...thing was tiny and we didn't even get to do anything. He even started puking during foreplay! Absolutely disgusting." Lucy surprised herself how easily the harsh [and incredibly untrue] words spilled from her mouth. Apparently she had accidentally turn on the 'Evil Hag' switch in her head too.

Vaguely deciding to blame her new found personality trait on the bastard from the hotel room, Lucy waited for her friend's response as the elevator arrived at the ground floor. Teeth gnawing apprehensively on the inside of her cheek, Lucy hurried from the elevator. A maelstrom of thoughts and feelings were swirling in Lucy's mind, causing an uncomfortable amount of instability in her perfect little world.

"Really?! But he was so damn hot!" Beth let out a weighted breath, seemingly disappointed. "Oh well, I guess looks can be deceiving." Her voice had taken on a less excited tone.

"Mmhm." Lucy mumbled, eager to get away from this particular subject matter. "But hey, would you mind not telling any-" She didn't get to finish her plea for anonymity regarding her late night shenanigans, as Beth soon interrupted her.

"WAIT! That means you still have your V-card, doesn't it? Ugh...Lulu!" The other woman whined as Lucy made her way down the street. "Don't worry! We'll go drinking t-"

Lucy growled with frustration, rubbing her face with an agitated hand. Her head hurt, she was having to walk all the way home and Beth wouldn't stop talking. It was safe to say that Lucy was having one hell of a day. "Beth - look, I have a horrible hangover. I need coffee and aspirin. So can we talk about this later? Ok wonderful. Talk to you much, much later, Beth!" She slammed the flip phone shut, efficiently cutting her oh-so fantastic friend off and giving some leeway to her killer headache.

Groaning, she mentally prepared herself for the long walk home and the even longer time required to clean up this horrible fucking mess she made. Pushing the stranger that she had sex with out of her mind, Lucy began to make a list of things that she would possibly need to accomplish setting things right again. She would have to find some way to keep Beth's blabbermouth shut, whether through blackmail, begging or murder she wasn't sure [murder seemed very tempting at the moment, though], a strict regimen of extreme ass-kissing to her boss as to make up for her missed day and a way to avoid that man at all costs - that included talking about him. Also, food. Food sounded increasingly good right now.

Happily reviewing her checklist, Lucy headed for the nearest restaurant that would serve haggard, grumpy girls.

A month later -

"Of course, Mr. Green. I'll make sure to get those files for you." Lucy said, swiveling lazily in her office chair. She didn't know what was wrong with her - she was never this...scatterbrained or lethargic for that matter when work was concerned. She had forgotten to email her boss employee files. Forgotten.

Lucy hadn't forgotten do to something in ten years. Even if something did happen to slip her mind, she had a fucking planner for that. A planner which she hadn't touched in a week. Lucy vaguely wondered if she was secretly on her deathbed, as that was the only explanation for her absolute carelessness. And the craziness of the past month seemed to live only to put emphasis on this fact.

Despite her minor obsession in exercise, Lucy had managed to gain a total of five pounds in the past three weeks. She blamed this ever-so agitating weight gain on her wonky eating habits of the past few weeks. Seriously, Lucy found herself awake at two in the morning craving pickles and white chocolate. And she hated pickles! So, when the young woman started barfing her guts out the next morning, she, in turn, accused the foul pickles of the night before. The next week of her life was spent over a toilet. She missed five days of work because of that. Five days. Lucy couldn't afford to miss five days of work. It didn't fit into the five-year-plan. Hell, it didn't fit her personality - everybody knew no one was more of a workaholic than her.

And yet, these things happened.

So, Lucy thought back to when these horrible things began to happen to her. And she thought. And she thought. Then she stumbled across a cobwebbed, dark part of her memory and proceeded to relive the horrors of a white -haired stranger, a room reeking of sex and a big, ugly question.

A question so big and ugly it made poor Lucy's blood drain from her face.

Shoving herself away from her beloved, once well-kept desk, Lucy jerked into a standing position, grabbed her coat [which was draped off the back of her chair] and fled the building. Only a panic-ridden 'I'll be back in a few' to the secretary gave notice of Lucy's departure.

Hurrying down seven flights of stairs and out the door of the lofty building, the young, horrified woman made a beeline for the nearest, sketchiest gas station. She chose the grungiest one because she was well-aware of the fact that none of her friends would even spare a glance to this place. And them not digging into her business was exactly what she needed right now.

Weaving her way back to the feminine needs aisle, a frantic Lucy scoured the rows of shelves for the doom-bringing pink box. Snatching it up once her eyes spotted it, she bolted to the bathroom - her loathing for public restrooms not even flittering across her mind.

The next series of events played out before Lucy like a bad 'horror' [or really just a poorly planned chickflick] movie - riddled with anticipation and cliché.

Lucy never had such a hard time relieving herself nor had she ever genuinely cried before, yet she felt the choking, all-consuming urge to not care for once and let the salty drops stain her cheeks. And as the mocking, happy pink plus appeared on the pregnancy test, Lucy refused herself the luxury of despair - no, she chose anger instead.

"I'm going to kill that fucking son of a bitch!"

The Next Day -

Dante, halfheartedly engaged in a minor argument with Patty, didn't bother to glance up from his dirty magazine when the bell that dangled from the door jingled. Actually, the white-haired man only troubled himself with the action of looking up when a very pissed off voice [not that having someone absolutely infuriated with him was a new thing] sounded from the doorway.

"Hey, asshole." The feminine, livid voice began. "Mind if we talk for a bit?"

So sorry for the minor disappearance but thank you guys so much for all the reviews!