"Dillon?" Lucy called out as she banged on the front door of Dillon's loft. She turned the knob of the door and realized it wasn't locked. Lucy slowly pushed the door open and walked in, leaving it slightly ajar.
"What the hell?" Lucy gasped. Dillon's artwork was strewn all over the floor. Remnants of pieces she knew he had worked so hard on were destroyed. Also on the floor was a bottle of whiskey, half full.
"Dillon are you still here?" Lucy called out. She was tired, frustrated, and wanted to go back to Donna's but she didn't want to leave Dillon alone if he was having a relapse.
"Dillon where are you?"
The loft was quiet. She thought about going upstairs but didn't feel comfortable climbing the stairs to where his bedroom was at. She looked around and sighed. Maybe he wasn't there. She slowly started creating a pile of torn canvas and carried it to the corner of the bottom floor.
"Salutations my dear friend," a male voice from behind her said. Lucy shrieked in fear.
"Dillon you scared me!"
She looked at Dillon and frowned. His glassy eyes focused in on her and he gave her an evil smirk, "Salutations my dear friend."
The phrase sunk in and dread filled Lucy. She took a step back from Dillon's wobbling figure. He was coming towards her, a single sheet of paper in one hand and a knife in the other.
"Dillon? What did you just say?"
"Sound familiar? I bet it does," Dillon scoffed.
"Dillon...what's wrong with you? How much have you had to drink?"
"How much have you had to drink?" Dillon mocked. "Don't pretend to care Lucy! You don't care! People like you don't care!" He was waving the knife around to accentuate his words.
"People like me?"
"Yeah...people without souls," Dillon took another step forward, forcing Lucy to take another step back.
"Dillon I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe if you explain to me...I'll understand."
"No! You explain to me Lucy. What were you doing there? What were you doing at the Forester estate?"
"The Forester estate?" Lucy gasped. How had Dillon known?
"Yeah the Forester estate. I saw you Lucy. I saw you sneak out the window. You left a picture at my house."
"Is that what this is about? It was just a picture Dillon...wait. How did you know?" Lucy asked, fear lacing her words. She tried to look around her to see if she could spot any other possible weapons. She found none.
"Just a picture? Don't you know who that boy was?"
Lucy shook her head as a steady stream of fear filled her.
"It was me! That boy was me!"
"Why was your picture at the Forester estate Dillon? Did you know them?" Lucy asked, pretending to stay calm. She could feel her hands shaking.
"I was their neighbor Lucy. I grew up coming in and out of their home."
"O?" Lucy whispered.
Dillon snarled, "Don't even say it Lucy! O killed my brother! I've blamed myself for so long but it wasn't me. It was O and you're involved too."
"Dillon. Let's talk about this. We can-"
"Shut up!" Lucy shut her eyes in fear and Dillon held up the piece of paper, "Tell me if this sounds familiar. Salutations my dear friend. I did something bad again. I purposely let the beast out to hunt. I have found that he loves to toy with his victims. Tonight he frightened a young man at a gas station. The method of his kill was a bit different. It was more...intimate." Dillon paused for a moment to see Lucy beginning to cry.
YOU ARE READING
ConsumedMystery / Thriller
Confessions from a murderer. This is what Lucy Hanson uncovers after reading a journal she finds in a secondhand desk. She soon develops a dangerous desire to discover the identity of the journal's author. With the police hot on the killer's trail...