Lucy

On January 12th, 2000 6:52 am in Gordly Hollows, Virginia, the Jones family welcomed a healthy infant girl, 7 lbs and 6 oz and 20.7 inches.

“Annabeth. I want to call her Annabeth,” Mrs. Jones firmly stated. She had just endured eight hours of labor, so Mr. Jones was not going to argue. He simply nodded and squeezed his wife’s shoulder, admiring his little girl in the arms of the love of his life.

. . .

“Anna, it’s Monday morning! Time to go to school!” Mrs. Jones announced as she lightly knocked and gently pushed open the chestnut door, peeking her head into the room.

“Let’s go, Lucy. Are you ready for your first day of school?” Annabeth asked while staring at the empty space beside her on the bed. A look of confusion overtook Mrs. Jones’s face as she searched for who Annabeth was talking to.

Annabeth grabbed her backpack off the floor. Her long brunette pigtails swayed while she skipped across the room. She wore her favorite purple dress -- one that was only worn on special occasions -- with ankle-high, pearl white socks and black flats. For the past couple of weeks Annabeth had been acting slightly bizarre: constantly talking to an empty space around her, taking extra food up to her room. Her parents assumed it was just a simple imaginary friend that every person had when they were a first grader. However, Annabeth would erupt into major tantrums if she was not allowed to take food to her room. She had become extremely sensitive -- if she was spoken to in a way she did not like, she would throw an immense fit-- so the Jones’s and her teacher had to be extra careful when they spoke to Annabeth, analyzing every word before it was uttered. They prayed that it was just a phase -- this was not the Annabeth they knew.

“Honey, what’s the special occasion?” Mrs. Jones asked.

“I’ve officially made a best friend, Mama! It’s so exciting!” Annabeth’s eyes lit up and her smile grew the more she thought about her new friend.

“Oh, Annabeth, that’s wonderful!” Mrs. Jones exclaimed. Maybe this is the first step out of this new phase, an actual person to talk to. Maybe that’s what she needs, Mrs. Jones thought, “What’s their name? Would you like me to meet them?”

“You’ve already met them, Mama. It’s Lucy. We’re best friends now, and she’s coming to school with me today! We’re going to do everything together, just me and Lucy!” Mrs. Jones’s heart dropped. It’s only a phase. It has to be a phase. All kids have imaginary friends.

Mrs. Jones dropped off Annabeth at Gordly Hollows Elementary then drove to work. It was an average autumn day -- 54 degrees, a slight breeze, and an orange-red hue tinted the sky. It was average for the Jones’s too, until they received a call from Annabeth’s teacher, Mrs. Holland:

“Hello, this is Alison Holland. I am Annabeth’s teacher. Is this Mary Jones?” She tried to sound professional but her voice was extremely shaky.

“This is she. Is there something wrong?” Mrs. Jones asked. She could feel a chill run through her spine, as if it was passed through the phone.

“We need you to come pick up Annabeth. She has been suspended for the rest of the week.” Her voice suddenly became hushed. “We also recommend that you bring her to… um… a-a doctor.”

“W-why is she suspended?” Mrs. Jones asked. There was a slight pause and Mrs. Jones’s stomach tied itself into a knot.

“During recess, another girl went over and asked to play with Annabeth. But immediately following this, Annabeth tackled the poor girl and attempted to cut her with a plastic knife,” the teacher’s voice remained at the same volume it was before, as if she was afraid of someone hearing her.

“Oh my… I’ll be right over. I’m so sorry,” Mrs. Jones collected her things and rushed out of her office. Oh Annabeth, what would make you do this? Mrs. Jones repeated this to herself as she drove to pick up her daughter.

When she arrived at the school, Annabeth was sitting in the main office, conversing with the empty chair that was beside her. Her pigtails were slightly disheveled, but she had the same smile from that morning plastered on her face. Mrs. Jones was befuddled by her daughter’s behavior, unsure how to react to the entire situation.

“Hi, Mama!” Annabeth said as she hopped off her chair and galloped over to Mrs. Jones’s side. Mrs. Jones took her hand and guided her out to the car.

“Mama, why am I leaving school early?” Annabeth asked.

“Because, um. You, uh. You… misbehaved, sweetie,” Mrs. Jones made sure to choose her words carefully, not wanting to trigger another fit.

“The other kids just get time-outs! That’s not fair!”

“I’m sorry, bug. But you weren’t very nice and they don’t like that in school,” she explained. Annabeth huffed and did not respond after that.

As they walked in their house, Annabeth threw her backpack in the corner of the living room and stormed up the stairs. A pink and white marble journal flew out of the bag as it slammed into the wall, opened to the page that had been bookmarked with a red colored pencil. Mrs. Jones made her way over to the journal:

Dear Jurnal,

Todays the day. It has to be today. Not tomorow. Lucy sed tonite. I wanna make her hapy. It is gonna be just us from now on if I do good. I wanna do good.

Bye bye,

Annabeth

Mrs. Jones slammed the book shut. She was paralyzed, unsure how to react. Creeak. Her trance-like state was interrupted by Mr. Jones opening the old oak front door.

“Ah! Oh god, Jerry, you scared me,” Mrs. Jones took three deep breaths in order to calm herself down.

“I’m sorry, babe.” Mr. Jones walked over and gave his wife a peck on the cheek. “I bought steak for dinner tonight.” Mrs. Jones forced a smile and went upstairs to take a shower…

The steak had just been finished on the grill and all that was left was for Mr. Jones to slice the perfectly medium-rare meat. He carefully placed the meat on the counter and pulled out his knives. About halfway through slicing the meat, Mr. Jones took a step backwards in order to rest his arms, but he had bumped into something. Actually, not something -- someone.

“Oh I’m sorry, bug, I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s alright Daddy, I was just watching,” Annabeth spoke softly. But her eyes made it evident that she didn’t just observe; she was mesmerized. The shimmer of the knife, the way it glided through the steak -- it fascinated Annabeth.

Mrs. Jones remained in bed the entirety of the evening into the night. Mr. Jones turned out the lights and slipped under the covers next to her.

“Babe, is there something wrong?” Mr Jones asked with immense concern in his voice, “You didn’t eat dinner. Are you feeling alright?”

“Tonight. It’s gonna happen tonight,” she whispered.

“What hun? What’s-”

“You need to call some-”

“Hi, Mama and Daddy.” Annabeth gradually stepped into her parents room, immediately silencing her parents. With her cloth covered hands hidden behind her torso, Annabeth began to creep towards the bed. Mrs. Jones froze, incapable of even breathing.

“Hey bud, you should be in bed now. Did you have a bad dream?” Annabeth nodded vigorously. “Come on over here.” Mr. Jones picked up his daughter, placed her on the bed, and hugged her, Annabeth’s head in the crook of his neck.

There it was: the silver shimmer had gleamed in Mrs. Jones’s eyes. She could see what her daughter was holding. But she couldn't move. She couldn’t speak. Annabeth made eye contact with her mother as a grin came across her face.

“Bye bye, Daddy,” she whispered directly before she stabbed Mr. Jones in the neck. Blood began to spill from the wound as his hands grasped where the knife had severed his skin. Annabeth used much of her strength to remove the knife from her father. His hands recklessly searched for the phone that resided on the nightstand. He was losing blood quickly, and could only manage one word before his lifeless body fell limp on the mattress: “Help.” After cleaning the knife with her pearl white nightgown, Annabeth crawled over to Mrs. Jones and sat on her lap.

“Hi Mama,” Annabeth said quite innocently as she brushed a hair out of her mother’s face, crimson red blood covering her hand.

“W-why?” Mrs. Jones muttered, her lips and throat dry from fear as tears began to form in her eyes.

“It’s what Lucy wants, Mama, so we can be together forever. That’s all we want. To be together,” Annabeth explained. Mrs. Jones easily could have stopped her daughter, if her muscles were able to move. So she laid there, as lifeless as her husband.

“Bye bye, Mama,” Annabeth planted a kiss on her mother’s forehead and plunged the knife into her chest.

“Well done, Anna,” a chilling voice arose as an indescribable figure emerged from the darkness. Annabeth smiled, admiring her successful work.

“What now, Lucy?” she asked, eager to learn of the new life they would lead together. Her hands shook and her mind raced with excitement.

“Not so fast. We must take our time, relish in each moment together,” the voice spoke with a such a softness that it would relax the most hyper being. The persuasive, motherly-like qualities possessed by this darkness allowed Annabeth to follow her blindly.

Suddenly, sirens blared in the distance. They grew louder as the piercing red and blue lights approached the house, and entered through the bedroom window.

“It’s showtime darling.” Annabeth knew exactly what to do, they had discussed and practiced for weeks.

She began to form tears in her eyes as she wiped the blood on her face and chest. BANG BANG BANG! The police officer pounded on the front door, reciting the words that would allow him entrance, but Annabeth did not move. She just sat frozen, as if she just witnessed her beloved parents being murdered. The officer continued to pound on the wood front door until he was required to enter with force. Crash! The door easily busted off its elderly hinges.

“Hello?” The officer cried. “We received a call from this household. Is anyone home?”

“You know what you must do, Annabeth.” The stairs began to creak, signaling Lucy’s return to the dark and unknown. The figure began to fade out of sight. “I will see you soon.”

. . .

The house was large, newly painted a beautiful light blue with a clean white picket fence surrounding the property. The shiny black truck pulled into the driveway and came to a smooth stop. A man, around thirty with jet black hair and clothes that were clearly too small for him, stepped out of the truck and opened the back seat. Then jumped out a girl, around 7 or 8 years old. Her long brunette hair was in two pigtails and they swayed as she gathered her little backpack out of the truck. She wore a wonderful purple dress with ankle-high pearl white socks and shiny black flats.

“Are you ready Annabeth?” The man asked.

She nodded vigorously and then turned back to the truck whispering, “It’s time to meet our new family, Lucy. Let’s have a little fun.”