The Echo of my Shouts

Chapter 3

"Seriously? A pink front door..." I mutter to myself as I ring the doorbell. Obviously certain things just don't seem to ever change, and Lucy needing everything, including her front door in pink seems to be one of them.

I hear the scurrying inside the house.

"I'll be right there!" her voice sounds behind the closed door, and I take another moment to make sure my hair looks okay, and that my shirt in straight.

It has been years since I have seen Lucy. Years where I have missed our bantering and her motherly bitchiness, and yet, now that I am about to see her again it feels like no time has gone by at all. The nervousness does set in a little bit, but with Lucy it is easy to know what to expect. A seemingly bitchy exterior, which hides the softest heart on the inside.

"Oh, for fuck sakes," she exclaims as she opens the door. Not exactly the welcome I had in mind, but I shake my head. Some things really never change. Apparently, some people's faces also never change.

"If you get another facelift, you will need to start shaving," I say pushing past her and into the entrance hall, which is shockingly decorated in light shades of pink with purple orchids standing everywhere on small white tables.

"Feisty," Lucy answers. "And I can't remember inviting you in. I told you to fucking stay at home and sort things out with Timothy."

"Why on earth would you pull your face back so far?" I ask as I start looking around for the entrance to a sitting room where I can relax for a moment. "I mean, seriously, Cher can get away with it, but we all know she is probably also a vampire who feeds on the blood of infants to stay young. You looking like this is just sad."

"I liked you better when you were mute, or living on the other side of the country," Lucy sighs. "But since you're here we'd better celebrate. Some champagne?"

And then it happened.

I could feel her arms wrapping tightly around me as she held me close against her. Her entire body shaking with sobs, whilst my tears started streaming down my face.

"You are one sad fag," Lucy sobs into my ear. "You fuck up everything, and yet I am glad to have my little gay pet back."

I struggle sorting through my mind for an answer, just anything to say in return of how much I have missed her, but every thought comes up blank. When she finally lets me go and looks me up and down I find my voice again.

"I need help," I whisper, looking at her like no time had passed at all and we were back in high school. Back to the time I fled to her house and hided out there so that nobody could find me.

"Now listen to me Elijah. You have no business flirting with being saved when you have no intention of being rescued. That's just the way it is. You can't demand freedom when you willingly put yourself in a prison," she says, and before I can answer she turns around and walks into a short passage that opens up on a sitting room, also decorated in pink, but darker shades this time. At least the couches are white to break the screaming of the walls.

"I want to be rescued. I want to be saved," I mutter as I fall down on one of the couches.

"No you don't baby," she answers as she pours two glasses of champagne like she always has an open bottle standing nearby. "You've never wanted to be saved. You've built your entire life on tragedy. You have built the walls around you so darn high that nobody can get in. It's all tragedy and tears, and pain over losing a boy you knew for a short while once upon a time. And that my dear Elijah, that is the problem. The moment he died, he became immortal to you. Someone you could shape into a fantasy of how life possibly could have been. But let me tell you something, as Blake's beloved sister... He was an asshole most of the time."