Author's Note (Impact): And so we continue this saga. I ought to forewarn you lot that something massive is soon coming, and it is related to this story. Can't wait to show you all.
Lucy stepped towards the Bierpong residence, the Cape Cod architecture imposing, yet it seemed to possess an air of pretentiousness. The pristine white exterior was embellished with black shutters that framed the windows like soulless eyes. Neatly trimmed hedges and a manicured lawn whispered of upper middle-class despair. Such an abode was a sharp contrast to the gloomy atmosphere she craved, though she found a bit of comfort in its skeletal similarity to her old home. Perhaps that was just her squeezing her eyes to see what wasn't there.
Styx Street stretched out beyond her, a seemingly pleasant neighborhood that lay on the wrong side of the tracks. This one, 235 Styx Street, would have caught her attention even if she were only passing by. Despite eagerly attempting to blend in with the upper middle-class suburban conformity, to her eyes, that front facade wore itself like Ted Bundy's smiling face.
The front door creaked open, revealing the dark interior of the house. As she stepped across the threshold, she felt a sudden jolt of fear. Thee Bierpong's dog, lunged at her, biting and ripping at her stocking. The vicious beast snarled and growled, saliva dripping from its bared teeth.
"Grimace!" the Bierpongs shouted, neither stepping forth to help, though Billy clapped his hands with the force of a revolver shot.
Lucy struggled to free herself from Grimace's grip, and with a final, desperate twist, she managed to send the dog retreating to a shadowy corner of the room where its attention turned to attacking a lone ballerina slipper.
The Bierpongs chuckled heartily, Mandy smoothing Lucy's skirt and immediately after, adjusting her own pearl necklace. "That's Grimace. He's just excited to meet you," she said, her voice a saccharine melody. "He'll warm up to you, I promise."
Billy clapped his hands together again, shaking the room with his hearty laughter. "Now, let's show you your new room, kiddo!"
Dazed by the terrier's attack, Lucy took a moment to note some oddities that appeased her: paintings hung on the walls at unusual locations, catching her attention. One depicted a skeletal figure shrouded in a black cloak, the specter of death hovering over an unfully-bloomed rose. Another showed a tempestuous sea, waves crashing against the withering Scottish cliffs with a ferocity that mirrored her tumultuous emotions. A third, hung at the perfect height for her to catch the subjects' eyes parallel, was a painting Lucy had only heard of in passing through her beloved brother's research into the highly strange: The Hands Resist Him, a bizarre and unsettling piece she committed to memory as having been drawn by one Bill Stoneham, though she could not recall the year.
In any other context, Lucy would adore them. Kindred spirits, the Bierpongs must be, to collect such sinister and melancholic works!
A single glance elsewhere betrayed that conclusion. The living room wasn't modern, instead furnished with the wood-paneled obsession of the 1970s, complemented with decidedly tacky furniture. The walls, the ceiling, the stairs upward, the kitchen— all decidedly vintage and almost retro, but very far from gloomy. She was just like the paintings: an out of place spot of the macabre among the bourgeois mediocrity.
This was her new home in the northern part of town, fairly far away from the Loud House residence. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, the weight of her actions pressing down on her like an iron anchor.
They climbed the stairs to the second floor, where her room awaited. When she crossed the threshold, it finally hit her: the sheer enormity of her screw-up. The walls closed in, the air grew heavy, and the tears she'd been holding back burst forth like a dam breaking.
She fell to her knees, the sobs wracking her body as she clutched at the carpet. The Bierpongs stood in the doorway, their faces a mixture of something that resembled pity. Billy placed a hand on Mandy's shoulder, whispering something that Lucy couldn't hear through her own cries.
"We'll give you some time to settle in," Mandy said sweetly, her voice barely reaching Lucy's ears. With a soft click, the door closed, leaving her alone with her grief.
Lucy's sobs echoed through the empty room, filling the void left by the loss of her family. She curled into a ball, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as the tears streamed down her cheeks. The pain was unbearable, a churning maelstrom of guilt and sorrow. She felt so sick.
How had she allowed herself to be the instrument of her family's destruction? The thought consumed her, gnawing at the edges of her mind like a relentless beast.
Time passed, though Lucy knew not how much. The room grew darker, the shadows seeping in and wrapping her in their cold embrace. In the silence, she could hear the whispers of her past, the voices of her siblings calling out to her like ghostly echoes. Each name, each memory, was a dagger to her heart, twisting and turning with each ragged breath.
The reddening sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting an eerie glow upon the floor. Lucy stared at the patterns it made, her eyes unfocused and hollow. She felt as though she were floating in a sea of darkness, adrift and untethered from the world she had known.
With a shuddering breath, she forced herself to stand, her legs weak and trembling. She walked to the window, her fingers tracing the cold glass as she looked out upon the quiet street. Somewhere beyond the rows of houses was her real family, their lives continuing without her.
She thought of Lincoln, his once-trusting eyes now clouded with bitterness and betrayal. The pain of losing him was a raw, open wound, a constant reminder of the irrevocable damage she had done. She wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of it all, but her voice was lost and fake. What injustice? All that had transpired was pure karma.
Lucy went downstairs. She knew she had to unpack, though she didn't have much. As her hand followed the smooth handrail down, she solemnly vowed to herself that she would find a way to make it up to Lincoln. More than that, she needed to prove to him that he could trust her again and that she didn't deserve to be ignored. Deep down, Lucy knew that Lincoln was not as unforgiving as he seemed. He was a child who genuinely yearned to forgive, perhaps too easily. In fact, his newfound standards for forgiveness were precisely what he needed—a means to keep his family in check and prevent them from trampling all over him. Great-Grandma Harriet had always said that if you let people walk on you, you're inviting them to trample you to death. Lincoln had learned that lesson belatedly, but he had learned it nonetheless.
Now, the responsibility fell upon Lucy to learn her own lesson: never to take advantage of someone's generosity and love. She harbored hope that, one day, she would find a way to make amends with Lincoln.
But for the moment, she couldn't dwell on that. She was no longer Lucy Loud.
With a heavy sigh, she murmured, "Lucy Bierpong... That's who I am now."
Mandy, sensing Lucy's struggle, reached out with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Hey, it'll be okay. We'll get through this together."
As they began to converse, Grimace, the family dog, burst into the room, barking and charging towards Lucy once more.
"Grimace!" Mandy exclaimed, attempting to introduce the energetic rat terrier. "He's a bit excitable, but he'll warm up to you."
As Lucy reached out to pet him, he bit her wrist. "Ouch!" she cried. "Are you sure he likes me?"
Billy chuckled and said, "Ah, don't worry about it. That's just his version of tough love. He'll get used to you soon enough."
Lucy rubbed the wound and sighed. She sat at the main table, trying to bring herself to say anything, but every attempt failed. And so she sat there in silence feeling like a dumbass.
As the evening shadows lengthened, Mandy exchanged a knowing glance with her husband. "Well… I think it's time we went over the ground rules," she declared, her voice steady and resolute.
Billy nodded in agreement, taking it upon himself to lay out the guidelines that would shape Lucy's life under their roof. He spoke with clarity and confidence, outlining the expectations he and Mandy held.
"First," he began, "we expect honesty in this household. We trust you, Lucy, and we need you to trust us in return. Our family sticks together. We don't keep secrets— secrets don't make friends and don't forge families."
"Second," Billy continued, "respect is paramount. Treat us and our home with the same respect you'd want to be shown. Likewise, do your part for this family. If we ask anything of you, it's not your place to question us. Remember, we took you in when you had no one else— the least you can be is thankful."
"Third," he added, "be responsible for your actions and your belongings. If you break a glass, crying about it doesn't put it back together, even if it was a pure accident. We're not asking you to be anything but careful about what you do. If you act irresponsibly, we'll treat you like the baby you must be."
"And finally," Billy concluded, "communication is key. WE are your new parents now. If you feel you must talk about something that bothers you, talk to us. Not to others. They know who you are, and most people in town don't have your best interests in mind. Whatever you say to them, you can expect to be used to humiliate you. We're actually here for you."
As he finished speaking, Billy unclasped his belt and held it in his hand, the leather strap looping menacingly. His voice lowered, edged with a hint of steel. "I'm not as lenient as Lynn. Don't make me have to use this, and there won't be any problems, capeesh?"
Lucy, her eyes fixated on the belt, swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded solemnly. "Yes, sir," she replied, her voice barely audible.
Satisfied with her response, Billy put his belt back on and softened his demeanor. "Now, go on up to your room and get some rest," he instructed, his voice gentle once more. Quickly, he pulled out his phone, but did not bring it to his ear or speak. Instead, he watched her until she moved.
Lucy obeyed, her mind racing with thoughts of the new life that awaited her. Every step up the stairs thundered through her ears.
She threw herself onto her bed, her eyes scanning the walls for her siblings' faces.
That happened, didn't it? It really happened. She had actually been threatened with a beating. It was one thing for one of her sisters to threaten to clock her. In fact, she had gotten used to Lola's threats to bury her alive or Lynn's offer to stab her with a stake ("Well-done or still mooing?") But Billy was a different story. He was her new father. This was as if Dad had tried the same threat on her, and she didn't know how to process it. How could a parent be so cruel as to threaten to strike their own child? The fear of the unknown consumed her. Had she actually been so terrible as to warrant such a response? Was this a long time coming?
Her mind was a hazy maelstrom as she struggled to connect disparate truths to one another. On some level, she knew it wasn't right. On another, she knew that different parents had different methods of discipline, and once upon a time, such a threat had been nothing more than a typical means of correcting behavior. Even on Vampires of Melancholia, it was not strange to hear of parents threatening to beat children for misbehaving. But that was supposed to be a different world, a different age, for different children.
She had grown too used to the old house's leniency, hadn't she? She always got away with things. All the other kids got away with things. Even Lincoln, that ever-suffering boy, had never been threatened so harshly.
And for a brief moment, that horror flashed through her heart: the image of herself being replaced with Lincoln, and seeing his shimmering blue eyes dilate as Billy raised his belt at him.
She couldn't handle the thought and buried it and her own angst by stuffing her face against the pillow.
As the evening wore on, Lucy's thoughts turned to her other siblings. How were they faring in her absence? Would they eventually forget her, her memory fading like a dying ember? The thought was both terrifying and oddly comforting, a bittersweet release from the guilt that shackled her to her past.
Lucy's heart ached with longing for her family and Lincoln. The weight of their absence bore down on her, and despite her earlier determination, tears welled up in her eyes once more. The thought of losing Lincoln forever was unbearable.
All of this had started because of a foolish belief that he was bad luck. Yet, it wasn't just that, was it? The reality was that for months, they had taken advantage of him, bullied him, mistreated him, and encroached upon his personal space.
Lucy's mind drifted back to the aftermath of their expulsion from the Loud House, wandering the streets with her family in search of food while being shunned by the townspeople. The feeling of being everyone's enemy was difficult to endure. Lucy knew she was not like Lola, Lynn, or Lori– she didn't want to have enemies, least of all her own brother.
The overwhelming sense of loneliness crushed her like a steamroller. The few friends she had once had were now gone. Haiku had refused to rekindle their friendship even after Lincoln had returned to the family. And here she was, in a completely unfamiliar part of town, living with people she had known for barely a full day. She felt utterly lost.
With a quivering voice, Lucy whispered to herself, "I just want to go home…"
She closed her eyes, allowing herself to be swept away by the tide of her memories. The laughter, the chaos, the love that had once filled the Loud House– it all seemed so distant now, an unreachable dream that had slipped through her fingers.
That night, as Lucy lay in her unfamiliar bed, the darkness seemed to press in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her guilt. The Bierpongs had been kind, but she couldn't escape the feeling that she didn't deserve their compassion. She had failed her family, and now she was paying the price.
A curious somnian phenomenon exists, grayscale sororal unit…
When resting in new, foreign environments, the human brain refuses to succumb to the deeper stages of sleep…
But only for the first night…
My hypothesis for this is that I suspect that, when we were but another species dwelling within the savanna, humans regularly migrated, and the dangers of unknown and potentially existentially fatal locations required all members of the tribe to stay aware until they could grow used to their surroundings…
And if we deduced those surroundings were unsafe, our mental alarm would sound constantly… fascinating to see how humans are evolved to protect ourselves from phantom dangers...
The following morning, after very little rest and very many tears, Lucy lethargically pulled herself downstairs to the Bierpong's dining table, her body slumped and her eyes downcast. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room, yet it could not lift the shroud of melancholy that enveloped her.
Her plate was laden with a hearty breakfast, the scent of bacon and eggs wafting up to her, but her appetite had all but vanished. She picked at her food, pushing it around the plate with a listless, unsteady hand. Each mouthful felt like an insurmountable challenge, a task too great for her weary soul.
The world around her seemed to move in slow motion, as if submerged in a viscous sea of sorrow. The sounds of the Bierpong household—Billy's booming laughter as he chatted away about dollar amounts and shady deals to some unknown client a thousand miles away, complemented by Mandy's melodic voice singing some old-timey tune, the clink of cutlery against porcelain—felt distant to her ears no matter how hard she tried to engage with the moment.
Breakfast wasn't even delicious. Or maybe it was. She tasted salt on her tongue. Fatty and crispy strips of meat did crunch, yes. But none of it tasted like anything. Nothing seemed to exist, even as she experienced it. Now, she had grappled with this unreal distance for weeks now— ever since the Incident had brought shame and disgust upon her. Even before her fall from the Loud House, she had struggled to experience anything and wasn't quite sure why.
Now, the nothingness went into maximum overdrive.
As she stared at her plate, the vibrant colors of the meal before her seemed to blur and fade, dissolving into a dull, monochromatic haze. The flavor of the food in her mouth was as insipid as ashes.
"So, are you still enrolled in school?" Mandy inquired gently from afar, clipping coupons from the newspaper.
Lucy hesitated before admitting, "I was being homeschooled right now."
Without looking at her, Mandy went, "Oh?"
And there was silence until Lucy chose to speak and found it hard to stop: "I-I was expelled earlier this year because of something I was framed for. I tried so hard to convince the principal I had nothing to do with it, but nobody believed me. Because… because well, you know…"
Mandy looked up at her and said, "We'll believe you, Lucy. What happened?"
Billy sat not far from Lucy, and he listened without comment, his eyes furtive.
"Sigh…" She took a deep breath and explained, "So, the L.O.U.D. Defense Club— THAT'S a long story on its own— okay… " Lucy stopped fiddling with her food and took a deep breath to ease her anxiety. "There's this group of kids who banded together to help Lincoln, right? And keep him safe. From… from us. Well, it's a long story, and there's too much to explain beforehand, but… they framed me for a bat attack at school. They released loads of bats, but from what a kid named Eddward told me, the bats were supposed to be released a day earlier. One of the pipes failed, and we got an unexpected day off, so when the bats were actually released, they were starving. They went straight for the juiciest source of blood they could find: Principal Huggins' plump, succulent nose."
Mandy grimaced at the mental image, while Lucy continued, "If I were more of a troublemaker, that's exactly something I'd do. But I always tried to keep my head down and do the right thing!"
With a sassy raise of his brow, Billy asked her, "Always?"
Lucy bit her lip, tapped her fingers together, and looked down. "Sigh. Well, not always."
Mandy nodded sympathetically, but then Lucy added, "After the Bad Luck Incident, my sisters and I tried returning to Royal Woods Elementary, but we were treated like social trash. It got so bad that we had to be homeschooled more for our own safety after a while, Honestly, the L.O.U.D. only made formal what was already destined to pass."
Billy and Mandy exchanged a glance, and Mandy said, "Well… you still need to attend school, and we're not equipped for homeschooling, so we were thinking of enrolling you at Milhouse."
Lucy's eyes widened as the words left Mandy's lips, the full weight of their meaning bearing down upon her fragile psyche. "The alternative school?" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
As the thought of attending a school for troubled kids filled her with befuddlement. No, outright revulsion. Milhouse Alternative School! A place where the dead-ends and J.D.s were sent so that some bureaucratic figure could claim they were receiving a semblance of an education.
This cold core of reality, raw and unfiltered, wrapped itself around Lucy's heart like a vice, squeezing the breath from her lungs. This was what her life had come to, what she had reduced herself to. In her misguided actions, in her failure to protect and support her brother when he needed her most, she had charted a course for her own destruction.
The image of herself as a student at Milhouse sent shockwaves through her being, forcing her to confront the disintegration of her identity. Truly no longer was she Lucy Loud, a misunderstood yet well-meaning sister— she had become a pariah, a cautionary tale of what could happen when love and loyalty were forsaken in favor of selfishness and fear.
As she sat there, she could not help but wonder how she had allowed herself to sink so low..
She set her fork down and said, "Oh… I see." The sheer mass of turmoil within was— no, she couldn't eat another bite. All appetite lost, she slumped in her seat.
Billy, sensing her apprehension, set his phone aside and said, "If you're not as bad as you claim, you'll only be there till 5th grade. I can't say it's the best place ever— pretty much all of our earlier adoptees went there, and they had to toughen up real quick. But you're probably not going to have a terrible time."
Lucy looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She knew he was right. Milhouse didn't necessarily scare her because it was filled with terrible kids— though she couldn't imagine she was going to have it easy. All that weighed upon her was the principle of it all.
And then her sore heart leaped into her throat as Billy and Mandy exchanged yet another glance, the solemnity in their eyes foreboding a new wave of misfortune.
"We have some more news for you, Lucy," Mandy began, her voice tinged with a subtle undercurrent of regret. "You're not going to be in that room for much longer."
Billy made a sound similar to the ones Lynn Jr made when some great game plan had been irrevocably thwarted as he fiddled with his hands.
Lucy's breath hitched as her mind raced with a thousand possibilities. "Gasp! Why?" For a fleeting moment, she clung to the desperate hope that perhaps a deal had been worked out and she would be returning home after all.
But fate had other plans.
"Kingsley called us last night and asked if he could move in sooner," Billy explained, his expression cold. "Of course, we couldn't say no. And... well, we want to give him the room you're sleeping in."
The revelation struck Lucy like a physical blow. Not even a single night, she had not even a single night to grow used to her new room, and already she was kicked out of it?
Mandy's sickeningly sweet voice penetrated Lucy's thoughts. "And, of course, we never planned to have a big family. Or any family at all. So we don't have any spare bedrooms besides that one…"
Several questions sprouted from within her mind, but only one grew to reach her lips.
"But… where will I sleep?"
Billy gestured for Lucy to follow him upstairs, where he led her to another room. Rather, it was a small cupboard nook just off the turn leading to the main hallway. Lucy felt her heart skip a beat.
A cupboard?! She had to sleep in a cupboard? Lucy had never heard of such a thing being legal, and the very notion of it filled her with a rising sense of indignation.
Billy squeezed into the narrow space as best he could and said, "I know it isn't the most comfortable spot, but you're a fairly tiny girl. I'm sure you could get used to it."
Lucy couldn't help but balk at the suggestion. "Um… Mr. Bierpong, with all due respect, can't I sleep in the attic? I promise I won't make any—"
Billy raised a hand, cutting her off. "Attic's off limits." He then nudged her out of the cupboard and closed the door behind her. "And we don't have a basement. But don't worry. You're not moving in here for another week. That's about all the time I could convince him to wait." He patted her shoulder and walked downstairs, leaving Lucy's gaze to follow his retreating figure before returning to her now-temporary room.
As she stood alone in the dimly lit hallway, the gravity of her new living situation began to settle in. The cramped cupboard, the cold, unfamiliar surroundings—all of it a stark reminder of just how far she had fallen from the life she had known.
After lingering in the hallway for a moment, Lucy took a deep breath and returned to her temporary room. She retrieved her poetry book from her bag, intending to find solace in her writing. As she flipped through the pages, her heart sank when she noticed a page torn out. It was the one where she had written the poem for Lincoln.
The memory of how he had ripped the paper from her hands and said so bluntly, "Sorry, Luce. Apology not accepted," played over in her mind, causing her eyes to brim with tears. She didn't want it to be this way.
Unable to write anymore, she closed the book and buried her face in her hands, her sobs echoing through the empty room.
From the doorway, Billy's cold voice cut through her cries. "Well, too bad, kiddo. It doesn't matter what you want. What matters is what is."
Startled, Lucy looked up to see him standing there, his expression a mixture of sternness and pity. The words stung, but she knew he was right. Life had changed, and she had no choice but to face the consequences of her actions, no matter how much it hurt.
Lucy lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, her thoughts a whirlwind of hurt and confusion. Her angst wasn't just about facing the consequences of her actions; it was something deeper, something that cut to her core. It was the knowledge that she had lost Lincoln's respect, his trust, and the bond they once shared. To be seen as his enemy, to be unforgiven and ostracized, was more than she could bear.
Her heart ached as she thought of her former friends and the people at school, all of whom now regarded her as an abusive bully, unworthy of their care or attention. She was met with hostility or cold indifference, her once familiar world now a hostile landscape. Lucy's greatest fear in life had always been rejection and hatred from those around her, and now her worst nightmares had come true.
She felt trapped, isolated in this unfamiliar house with strangers who had taken her in, but whose lives she barely knew. The weight of her actions pressed down on her, suffocating her in a darkness that she couldn't escape. She longed for the comfort of her family, for the understanding of her brother, but those dreams felt impossibly distant, and she didn't know how to mend the broken pieces of her life.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she curled into a ball, her sobs muffled by the pillow beneath her head. She was scared, lost, and alone, adrift in a sea of sorrow with no clear path back to the shores of love and forgiveness.
As Lucy lay there, her mind drifted back to the words she had heard whispered by others: that Lily was the only sister Lincoln ever should have had, that she was the only one who truly mattered. Though she loved Lily with all her heart, the implications of those comments cut deep into her soul, as if suggesting that she and her other sisters had no right to exist. In the past, she could find solace in the idea that the family was suffering collectively, and she could hide in the shadows of her family to ward off attention and criticism.
But now, the situation was different. She was the only one left to wither away, the only one whom Lincoln refused to forgive. The thought of being on his bad side was a burden too heavy for her to bear. To be his enemy, to be excluded and singled out for his disdain, was something she never imagined possible.
And now, it seemed, she might never have the chance to make amends, to regain the love and trust of the brother she cherished. The thought of being his enemy for the rest of her life tore at her already fragile heart, threatening to break her entirely.
As Lucy's thoughts swirled, she found herself grappling with the sheer disbelief that this was happening to her. To her, of all people. She had always been the quiet one, the one who stayed in the shadows, observing the world from a distance. She had tried to be kind and understanding, to avoid causing trouble. Yet, here she was, facing the unimaginable consequences of her actions and the collective actions of her family.
The realization that she was now hated by others, and not just by strangers, but by her own brother, was a suffocating feeling. It gnawed at her, filling her with a deep sense of insecurity and self-doubt. Was she really so horrible, so unforgivable, that even Lincoln couldn't find it in his heart to give her another chance?
Her life had taken a dark and twisted turn, a cruel irony for a girl who had always been drawn to the darkness. But this was different– this was a darkness she never wanted to embrace, a darkness she couldn't escape.
Author's Note (Aftershock): A slow burn chapter, undoubtedly as you can tell, but this one is meant to be a transition, as I didn't want to throw people into the deep end of the pool or pull a fast one. I tried to force a certain plot point to happen here, but nothing I did made it work— it came too far out of left field without some intense bullshitting. Plus, I wanted to do some pure internal Lucying for a while. This is essentially what the story was supposed to be about: these long, depressed internal monologs with some environmental description for good measure, as the story is inspired by those ultra depressing dreary gloomy days of late fall and winter, the kinds after a cold front where the sky's gray and dark blue and it's windy and yucky and cold and no one likes it. However, that doesn't make for a very good story by itself, hence why I've still kept a few things in place that are yet to come.
Next chapter's going to be a doozy. A lot of stuff's going to start moving very quickly, and it might be a bit blinding. We'll be skipping ahead a week too, as everything picks up that first week of December. We'll be in December for a while, too…