She hadn't left.
Watching Bowen writhing and moaning, she remembered those men who'd used her.
Taking two deep breaths she raised the axe high into the air. Then, pursing her lips, she bought it down hard and fast onto Bowen's neck. Rolling clear of his body, his head wobbled then teetered to a standstill.
With her foot, she rolled the headless torso onto its back. And before she left, she buried the blade once more, this final time deep into his groin. She smiled in grim satisfaction as its handle reached up into the air like a fleshless, lifeless erection.
Neville Hunt 10 months ago
Brilliant writing. I do love the last sentence. Grisly, cubed! (Ouch! Crosses legs quickly!)
Drew Martyn 10 months ago
Thanks Neville - absolutely nothing was planned about that last image, but I felt that Lucy, being Lucy would have to do something to make an exit. The picture in my head of the handle sticking up into the air just seemed to fit with her sad unempowered past.