Who: Constance Marlow What: Being greeted by the sight of a police officer, a shaken Lucy, and news of Lydia's gruesome death. When: Shortly after this Where: Constance's townhouse Warning: Extreme mother angst
Constance had been in the kitchen preparing dinner when the doorbell rang. Frowning a little to herself, she wiped her hands on a towel before heading towards the front door, glancing at the clock as she did so. She wasn't expecting anyone, or any package, and it was too early for it to be the girls returning home without their keys-although it wouldn't be the first time that they had simultaneously forgotten them. Then again, they had gotten a little more responsible lately.
The first sight to greet her when she opened the door, however, was Lucy standing on the steps, trembling compulsively, staring at the ground. Constance's frown deepened a little and she started to open her mouth to say something, but was stunned silent when she noticed the blood stains in her hair and the fact that she was wearing a shirt that was different from the one she had been wearing when she left. Her mind reeling, going places she didn't want it to go, she could only stare for a moment before shutting her eyes briefly. "Lucy, where's Lydia?" She finally managed to ask.
Lucy was silent and when she finally looked up at her mother, her face was stained with tears, fear evident in her eyes. "Ms. Marlow?" A voice interjected, calling Constance's attention to the fact that a police officer was standing next to her daughter. Upon receiving a vague nod of acknowledgment, he continued. "I'm Officer Jenkins. Your daughters were involved in an...altercation outside of a movie theater a few blocks down."
"Altercation?" She repeated, neither her facial expression nor her tone of voice betraying anything.
"Yes," he confirmed. "Of the violent sort, I'm afraid. Them and a bunch of other girls. Friends of theirs, I assume."
"What happened?" Was all she asked, her gaze drifting from the officer to Lucy and then back again.
"We don't know for certain. A couple of witnesses said some man showed up and started attacking the group while they were waiting to buy tickets. Apparently your two girls were the last ones left standing."
"If they were both left standing, then why am I only seeing one of them?" She inquired, her heartbeat quickening already as she unconsciously braced herself for the answer she dreaded.
Here, Officer Jenkins released a heavy sigh, absently rubbing the back of his neck as he adopted a sympathetic expression. "Unfortunately, our culprit took the time to finish off your other daughter before taking off," he responded slowly, gently. "I'm so sorry, ma'am."
For a minute, the world seemed to freeze around her, everything grinding to a halt as his words hit home and her composure started to waver for the first time. "Are you, are you sure it was her?" She finally managed to ask, trying to force back the tremor in her voice.
"We'll need you to positively identify the body," he conceded, keeping his tone gentle, but still level. "But, given that the body we found is identical to Lucy here, we're pretty certain." He paused before repeated, "I'm sorry."
Constance could only nod, slowly, swallowing the lump that had risen in her throat. "I see," was all she could say, fighting back the tears that were now threatening to fall. It had the effect of giving her eyes a wavering, wounded look that left a faintly haunting impression and Officer Jenkins squirmed a little unconsciously. He didn't do well with tearful women.
"The body is down at the morgue getting cleaned up," he finally concluded. "Come by when you're ready, ma'am." He then placed a hand lightly on Lucy's shoulder, patting it, but she didn't even blink in reaction. "If there's anything the department can do for either of you, or if you have any questions, give us a call."
Constance nodded again, reaching out to gently pull Lucy inside, as the girl didn't look as if she'd be moving without some encouragement. "We will, Officer," she said simply, closing the door. "Thank you."
For a minute or two, mother and daughter simply stood there, unmoving, neither of them saying a word. Finally, however, Constance turned to Lucy, murmuring softly, "Sweetheart, why don't you go upstairs? Rest for awhile. I...need to call your father."
Lucy nodded, her first full reaction to anything that had been said since she was brought home, but it was mechanical. She still said not a word as she turned and headed up the stairs, leaving her mother to stare after her in silence.
The tears still held at bay, Constance silently made her way into the living room, sinking down into a chair next to the phone. Another few minutes of numb silence passed before, with a hand that she didn't even seem to realize was trembling, she picked up the receiver and dialed a number. The phone rang three times before someone finally picked up.
"Dennis," she began by way of greeting, fighting to keep her voice steady, but failing, "it's me. We need to, ah, we need to talk." There was a pause as he mumbled something on the other end. "It's about the girls. They, uh, they went out with some friends earlier this afternoon and...someone attacked them." She shut her eyes tightly as another, more anxious response sounded in a muffled fashion. "Lucy's....Lucy's home. No physical harm." There was a long moment of silence on both ends before her ex asked the question that she didn't want to answer. "Lydia was killed," she was finally forced to say. "The police want me, us, to...identify the body." Another pause occurred as she listened to what he had to say. "Alright, I'll meet you there in half an hour. Of course I'll give her your love. I'll see you soon. Goodbye."
She hung up, then, her hand still shaking, and she unconsciously clasped it firmly in the grasp of the other. Several more minutes passed in which she merely sat there, staring into space, trying to register the fact that her world had just come crashing down around her ears. The full realization of what had just happened started, first, in the shaking of her shoulders; the streaking of the first of what would be many tears streaking down her face followed;as she released a choked sob that she didn't even realize she had been holding back, her placid composure dissolved completely. All that was left for her to do was to bury her face in her hands and weep brokenly over the child that she had lost and the dark days that were sure to follow.