I was lucky enough to move into a flat with cool people when I started uni. We were all from different parts of the Uk, but we got on well. However, the people in my friends flat were less than friendly. They left the room when she entered and refused to answer her when she spoke. I felt really bad for her so she started staying in my room.
About 5 weeks went by of me sharing mysmall room with her. We topped and tailed in a single bed and it was less than comfortable. Finally, after a limited conversation on the phone with my boyfriend from my home town I confronted the problem.
'Lucy, u know I think the world of u, and I know it's difficult for you at ur flat, but there's just no room here. I think ur going to have to move back to urs. I'm just tired of having such little space and no privacy. I can't even talk dirty with my boyfriend on the phone because ur there, and he's coming to stay next weekend' I explained.
Needless to say, she was gutted, but there was nothing I could do about it, we couldn't go on sharing a tiny room and it was unfair on the others in the flat- an extra person in the kitchen and in the bathroom and in the way. I felt so guilty.
I didn't hear from Lucy for a couple of days but finally she rang me and told me she understood, and that she could still come over, but just sleep and eat at her flat. That was fair.
So my boyfriend, Jake, came to stay and we cuddled up in bed at 11 at night. There was a bang at the door , and I jumped out of bed, got dressed and opened it.
'Someone's been killed' screeched the girl from the next flat. Everyone's going outside, there's police everywhere.
'How??' I asked. 'Murdered, I'm not sure how though, I'm trying to get the gossip now. Come on, lets go out.'
I woke everyone in our flat and we went out the front. The flats were build in a kind of square, and we all stood in the middle- the courtyard. Police walked round questioning everyone for witnesses, and finally evacuated the building- leaving us stood outside the front gates which were bound with police tape.
'Where's Luce? Have u seen her anywhere? She'll know whats happened, she's always centre of gossip.' I joked with Jake.
I hadn't seen her anywhere, so I rang her mobile. There was no answer.
The girl from the flat next door came running over.
'Ok, I know what's happened, four men and a girl live in flat 37' she began, 'and one of them, John, I know him, he's ok, found the girl hanging in the kitchen from a bloody hook, which went through the back of her neck. Her face had been mutilated with a knife, and her fingers had been dipped in acid. Apparently she'd been tied to a chair and tortured with scalding knives which had been heated on the hob. They're taking out the body bag now. The guy that did it apparently laughed his head off and admitted it!'.
'Oh my God' I replied 'the poor girl, it must be satanism. How could someone be so psychotic? Which flat did u say it was?'.
'37' she answered. I froze, and my breath caught in my throat as I turned to Jake, hysterical, and cried into his chest.
Lucy.
On returning to her flat from mine, at 10:45, she had forgotten her key and rang the bell. The flat mate who answered, dragged her to the kitchen where he tortured and killed her. I had taken away her safety and because of my selfishness, she was dead.
