Lucy watched
Lucy had a degree in psychology. She knew that demonic possession was rubbish – that it was the way religions had for centuries explained conditions like schizophrenia and multiple-personality disorders. She knew that. She reminded herself of that. She believed it to be so. But the idea of a little girl possessed by the devil, of a mother’s reluctance to accept the fact as her golden-haired child descends into apparent madness – and the final showdown in all its hellish hamminess. It ticked all the right boxes for Lucy.
She had always liked horror films. As a teenager they had just been a way to allow a boy to put his arm around her at the movies without feeling as though she was being a slut. Then she got addicted to the thrill – the jumps and the gore. How many ways
But she always came back to
Often, when she thought about her life and death, Lucy wondered about her passion for horror. She had finally come to the conclusion that it was born out of a deep-seated sense of security. Until the MS was diagnosed, Lucy had led a charmed life. She had meandered through school and university in the manner of many very bright students – neglecting her studies with a vengeance and yet still managing to pick up her First and lifelong friends along the way. She had dabbled with cannabis and yet never had a trip worse than the one where she suspected her best friend, Sharma, had stolen her new Max Factor mascara. She had been on three protest marches – Animal Rights, Tibet, and Tibet again – without ever having her name taken by police. She’d got drunk only in the company of friends who made sure she got home safely, she’d never lost a close relative and she’d never had her heart broken. Probably, she reasoned, she enjoyed horror because nothing even vaguely similar had ever happened to her or ever would.
At least, that’s what she told Jonas.
But it was not as strictly true as it had been before she was diagnosed. Since the MS had started to take over her life, she grudgingly recognized some need to
She watched the films for fun; she studied them like manuals.
No longer could she simply see a pretty young girl walk through creepy woods or a dark house without some part of her wishing she was there – and handling it better.
Lucy Holly would
She’d
If she could stalk a zombie; if she could squash an intruder … how hard could it be to repel the killer in her own body?
Sometimes, when she felt mentally strong enough, Lucy would stand naked and watch herself in the mirror. That was what it felt like –
She had been beautiful. She knew that – although it was behind her now.
The year of steroids was over and she had lost all the weight and more. She had hated being fat and puffed up almost more than she hated the disease – had not wanted Jonas to touch her, even when she wanted to touch