A/N: I don't own these characters, they are the creations of Alyxandra Harvey... Reviews are welcomed as well as any advice and/or theories/ideas... Read on...
Flash Back:
Driving up the incredulously long drive way, I could feel something wasn't right. Not a single light in the Drake house was on. It was only half past eight at night if anything the living room light should be on. I began to worry further when Nicholas didn't come to greet me like every other time I arrived. Leaving the car running, I hopped out and ran up to the door, knocking three times. No reply. I banged on the door a few more times, still no reply. The silence was beginning to make my skin crawl. "Nicky? Sol?"
Nothing, nothing and more nothing. My cool was fading quickly. "Will somebody answer the bloody door!" I shouted and yet again no reply. Standing back from the door I briefly sized it up before charging at it, knocking the old door off its hinges and dislocating my shoulder. My violent curses echoing through the dark house. "Son of a wooden bitch."
Clutching at my injured shoulder I let my eyes adjust to the darkness and that's when I died, my heart exploding into a million UN reparable shards. Despair and loss seeping from my heart and into my bones. The house was empty, not a single piece of furniture. When I found my body again I ran to Solanges room, Empty. Next to Nicholas's, Empty as well.
They were gone. Even thinking the words tore a new hole in my already torn apart heart. The Drakes were gone. Solange, Nicholas, Logan, Quinn, Conner, Duncan, Marcus, Sebastian. Nowhere to be seen. Even Aunt Hyacinth was gone. I could feel my knees crumple beneath me, but I didn't try to break my fall, instead I let the floor race to meet me barely wincing as I hit the cold stone slab. My heart hurt far more than any physical pain could. It was like I was slowly but surely being sucked into a never ending black hole of unbearable pain. Many times I'd heard people describe heartbreak. They were wrong, it wasn't the whole I'll cry for a while eat ice-cream and rent bad movies.
It was more like someone had wrenched their hand through my chest, pulling my heart out impaling it on a stake whilst they hacked at it with blunt kindergarten scissors, then shoved the shredded pieces back into the throbbing cavity in my chest then packed it with ice.
It was like losing a part of yourself and never finding that part ever again, feeling the empty; nothingness and knowing in your mind that you will never be able to fill that gaping hole.
And so much worse.
So I lay on that cold, unforgiving floor and I cried the last ever tears I would cry for the Drakes.
Lucy died and lucky was born, but not before they came for me.