I Am Lucy

A new message flashes. The little icon with her photo, all Bambi-eyes and dimples, sets his heart racing. And then there’s that other feeling. The one he shouldn’t have for someone her age. The one that twists his stomach and clamps his jaw tight.

The curtains are drawn, as always. His secrets fester like bacteria in the stale air, seeping into the furniture. They clutter every surface, filthy as the plates that litter his room. He cannot risk them spreading beyond the confines of this house. Not like they did in the old neighbourhood.

These new neighbours seem friendly. They posted that ‘Welcome’ note through his door, with the link to the community Facebook group. That’s where the fireworks display was advertised. And where he found the laughably easy to access local youth chatroom. Honestly, this lot could do with some internet safety training.

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Hi, I’m Lucy

Devilish woman in the background. Stain Devil bottle in the foreground

Cold seeped into her limbs as the breath from her sobs erupted in clouds of vapour curling under her hanging head. She wasn’t sure if she could take any more, but going back meant facing him. An icicle stabbed through her.

“You okay, chick?” A woman’s voice. Jian looked up. Standing opposite the bench on which she sat was a tall white woman. She seemed to be made of shadows, all darkness and shifting folds of fabric, except her eyes, which were gas-flame blue. The woman stepped forward into the light cast by the row of takeaway shops on the other side of the low railings surrounding the park. “Hi, I’m Lucy. You’re Jian Zhang and I’m here to help.”

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