Love Till Death
Emily stepped out of the shop, adjusting the heavy grocery bag in her hand as she walked home. She’d barely bought anything, but the bag still dug into her fingers. She paused outside their house. “No lights on. Lucy’s out again, probably with that… Ryan.” She sighed. “Just wait till she gets back. Ever since she started seeing him, her grades have dropped, she’s skipping school. The teachers are complaining, and her A-levels are coming up. Just you wait till you walk through that door—I’ll give you a piece of my mind.” Grumbling, she trudged upstairs.
Inside, Emily dumped the bag onto a chair by the kitchen table and glanced at the stove. “Of course. I asked her to peel the potatoes or at least put the pasta on. Gone again. What am I supposed to do with her?”
She yanked off her jacket, tossed it onto the rack in the hall, and stormed back to the kitchen. Cupboards slammed, plates clattered—Emily was cooking in a fury, already rehearsing the scolding she’d give Lucy when she finally showed up.
But Lucy wasn’t in any rush. Half past ten, still no sign of her. Emily paced, muttering to herself like a broken record: “Just wait till she gets home. I’ll teach her a lesson she won’t forget. I’m working my fingers to the bone for her, and she can’t even boil pasta? Thinks I don’t deserve a life of my own? I was her age when I had her, raising her alone. Ungrateful. Does she want to end up like me? Let her try—she’ll see how hard it really is.”
The anger boiled over. She wanted to smash something, anything, just to let it out.
When the key finally turned in the lock, relief washed over her—until she saw Lucy’s guilty face, her eyes still bright with reckless joy. Then the anger flared again.
“Where have you been? Do you have any idea what time it is? And your schoolwork—your exams are weeks away, and you’re out God-knows-where!” she shouted, not caring if the neighbors heard.
“I did my work—” Lucy tried.
“Don’t talk back! Have you lost your mind? I raised you, thought you’d get an education, make something of yourself. But you’re making the same mistakes I did!”
“I’m not making any mistakes. Stop shouting—” Lucy snapped. Her eyes dulled, cheeks flushed with defiance.
“Oh, you—” Emily bit back the insult just in time.
Helpless, she scanned the room for something—anything—to make her point. Lucy tried to slip past her to her room, but Emily finally grabbed an umbrella off the side table and raised it.
“Mum!” Lucy flinched, arms shielding her head.
That cry, that cower—Emily’s arm dropped. The umbrella clattered to the floor. The anger drained out of her, leaving her deflated, hollow.
“I’ve been out of my mind worrying, not knowing where you were, and you… What’s that on your finger? Where’d you get that?” she asked weakly, collapsing onto the hallway stool.
Lucy slowly lowered her hands, staring at the simple gold ring with a tiny white stone.
“Ryan gave it to me,” she mumbled, watching her mother cautiously.
“You’re still in school. Doesn’t he know that?” Emily whispered, mesmerized by the ring.
“He knows. So what? In two months, I’ll be done with my exams—”
“An adult? Oh, please. You live under my roof. You follow my rules—starting with helping out. You think you can do whatever you want now? Stay out all night? Skip school? Get pregnant?” The rage bubbled up again.
She knew she was going too far but couldn’t stop.
“Mum, he loves me. And I love him,” Lucy said desperately.
“If he loved you, he’d want what’s best for you, not whatever this is. Where’d he even come from—” Emily swayed, a sigh—or a groan—escaping her.
That night, she tossed and turned. The argument, the worry—her nerves wouldn’t settle. How had her clever, beautiful, straight-A daughter, her pride and joy, ended up like this? Her imagination ran wild with worst-case scenarios. Exhausted, she finally called her only friend.
“What’s wrong?” came the groggy reply. A loud yawn. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Sorry. I just… Lucy, she—”
“I warned you, didn’t I? Said you can’t coddle her forever. What’s she done now?”
“Oh, Susan… she’s got this older boy. Her grades are slipping, skipping classes. The teachers are complaining. The shame. And now—he’s given her a ring. Says she’s in love. She’s only seventeen. He’ll ruin her life—” Another yawn crackled down the line. “Are you even listening? Fine, I’ll call tomorrow.”
She hung up. Sharing the pain had helped, a little. She finally dozed off, restless.
Morning made it all seem less dire. She’d act now—before it was too late. But how?
As she washed her face, boiled the kettle, she plotted how to reach Lucy. How to make her see sense. She peeked into Lucy’s room—her daughter lay curled up, cheek resting on her palm. Emily’s heart clenched.
She sighed, closed the door, and got ready for work.
On her way out, she grabbed her keys from the hook. Then, on impulse, she dug into Lucy’s jacket pocket, took her keys too, and shoved them in her own. She rummaged in the drawer, found the spare set from her ex-husband, and locked the front door with them.
“There. She’s staying home. I’ll write a note to her teacher. She’s not going anywhere.” It felt like the right move. She’d talk to Lucy when she got back—properly, with the right words.
If only she’d known what would happen.
Lucy called at nine, furious. “Why’d you lock me in? Where are my keys?”
“So you can stay and think. We’ll talk later. I’m at work—don’t bother me,” Emily said curtly.
Lucy didn’t call again. The day dragged. No words came, just resentment, accusations, threats.
On her way home, she spotted a crowd outside the building opposite. A neighbor hobbled over, arthritis slowing her steps.
“Liz, what’s going on?” Emily nodded toward the commotion.
“Oh, love…” Liz hesitated, pity in her eyes. “Don’t panic. Police and emergency services are on their way—”
“Just tell me!” Emily snapped, heart already sinking.
The setting sun glared, but she finally saw them—two figures on the roof, holding hands.
“My God, I locked her in—how’d she even get up there?” Emily muttered aloud.
“A cherry picker came earlier. Thought it was painters. Guess he got her out through the window,” a man nearby said. “That your daughter?”
People turned, whispering.
“Lucy!” Emily screamed—or tried to. Only a choked gasp came out.
“That’s Ryan with her. Dodged the army. Dad’s in prison—killed his mum drunk. Lives with his aunt, no real job…”
“He delivers takeaway…”
“Sweet girl, always said hello…”
“What’ll happen now?”
“Police are coming—hear the sirens?”
Emily couldn’t look away. Her neck ached, but if she blinked, they might jump. Ryan spotted the police.
“Stay back! We’ll jump!” he shouted, voice shaky, no real threat in it.
She didn’t see the men sneaking into the building. Tears blurred her vision, but she kept staring. Then—Lucy’s figure wavered. Emily lunged forward as if to catch her, but the world tilted, went black.
When she came to, a young man hovered over her. For a second, she thought it was Ryan and lashed out.
“Easy. Ambulance is coming,” the man in the emergency services uniform said.
“Lucy—” she croaked.
“She’s alive. Over there.” He nodded.
Emily let him help her up.
“Mum!” Lucy rushed to her, sobbing into her shoulder. “I’m sorry—”
“Tell the police he forced you up there,” the paramedic whispered to Lucy.
Two ambulances came. One took Ryan’s body away in a black bag. At the last second, as rescuers grabbed them, he’d broken free and jumped.
After that, Lucy shut down. Silent, frozen. Police came and went. Emily took time off work, watching her constantly.
“It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass,” she murmured.
Eventually, Lucy’s friends visited. Emily eavesdropped—heard her talking. A relief. A week later, Lucy went back to school. Nailed her A-levels. Skipped prom, even though Emily borrowed money for aThey lived quietly after that, the weight of loss heavy but softened by time, and though the past never truly left them, they learned to carry it together.
