Silent - Part 5: How We Met

Gavin, Friday Night

Yeah, there was massive trouble nearly two years ago. It involved Lucy and another girl. And me.

The location?  Lyme House in Lancashire, a former Prep School for aspiring concert pianists. You know the sort?  Mainly rich kids, apart from those who got in on scholarships (such as myself). The media called it The School of Death because it already had a sinister past.  

After the investigation, Lucy occasionally emailed me. One evening I replied to a reply…Lucy responded to that and we started to communicate regularly.  Every two or three days at first. Then, every day. Finally, several times in a day. The emails took on a chatty tone…we exchanged phone  Eventually, we were texting five times a day.  Maybe ten.

And one of those texts included an invitation for me to visit her in Leeds.

I’m here now, and she’s gone.


Silent flat. No sign of neighbours.  No late night drinkers coming back from the pub.  Weird. Also reminds me too much of that other time…Lancashire and the utter silence of that House near the sea.

Unexpectedly, I feel the other girl now, close by. The girl that died. Her hair, long and black. Her smell. Her touch on my skin, soft and attentive. She has a playful smile on her face, innocent. I loved her. People say I didn’t, it was just an infatuation that got out of control, but those people are wrong.  They don’t know anything.

In the distance, I hear the dead girl laugh.  

A gleeful, mischievous giggle.


I get hammered and crash out on the sofa.  Next thing, my phone starts ringing and I bolt up with fright.  

4am.  Massive hangover.  Must have slept a while.

I reach for the phone.   Private Caller,


There's a pause.  

Then the line goes dead.



She stirs.  It is late, very late. The man in the baseball cap has returned.  He tiptoes around in the dark, light on his feet.

'Let me go,' she says.

'When I'm ready.'

'Please -

'Are you disrespecting me, Lucy?'

'No -

'How many people do you think I’ve killed? Well?’ He doesn’t wait for her answer. Continues with: ‘Lots of people. They call me the Angel of Mercy because I’m quick.  I’ll leave you to think about that.’

Once again, he fidgets with a padlock and bolts an unseen door, leaving her alone in the dark.  

Written by Lozzamus
Author's Note
Psychological thriller adapted from a short novella, set in the UK
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 1
comments 2 reads 47
Commenting Preference: 
The author is looking for friendly feedback.

Latest Forum Discussions
Today 2:39am by ragaire
Today 2:04am by eightmore
Today 2:02am by Phantom2426
Today 1:38am by MadameLavender
Today 1:23am by Girthquake
7th October 2022 00:09am by JacobSchex