WHERE: Luce’s Home WHEN: June 8th, 12:38 am WHO: Closed for @thechircn
In the distance, her phone rings. She is not far from her phone, the device is rooted in her hand, but Lucrezia feels far from the moment. And unknown caller ID stares back at her in a sea of many - her absences has been noted by clients in the weeks she’d spent....breathless. The first day back she’d thought to throw herself into work, ready to lie away all questions regarding her missing in action. That ambition had lasted as long as a scroll down her phone. She’d barely managed to throw a generic apology together, sending her bullshit out to every client before saying she’d be back in business within a week. She’d bought herself time but only just and she’d worked too hard to amass what she had to let it all go to shit over dying.
Time meant little when she spent it all hallucinating and wishing she could sleep. Exhaustion seemed to fuel it, alcohol left her bloated and lazy and the drugs made things worse. She’d been up for an hour and a half now pacing, frazzled and undone before she’d bitten the bullet and called Cleo, praying for a voicemail. Even then, her poise had been gone. “I need you to come over, if you’re awake. Please. It’s urgent.”
Now she was waiting on the front porch, pacing and burning through cigarettes faster than was healthy. She was jittery, overtired and nervous, running her hands over her skin for the thousandth time since returning. Even when approached, she said nothing.