From Atop the Rafters
Lucky hadn't known tough emotions before. He thought he knew what sorrow felt like due to his position in life being so low, but nothing compared to the anguish that he felt at that moment.
Two days had passed since Addison Gray had returned him home to Cheryl and not much had been said other than the occasional floaty conversation that would always either end in tears or with both Lucky and Cheryl walking away from one another.
He knew that his master had no idea of his part in Vicky's demise, but it didn't help his guilt either way. It was as if she was punishing him anyway by not being able to speak to him for too long before seeking distance.
Maybe this was what he deserved. He barely knew Vicky to be honest. He knew more of her physical attributes than he actually did her personality. He knew that her long and wavy red hair was a unique trait among the other women in his life. He knew that her piercing green eyes were both terrifying and seductive, depending on the mood that she wished to share at the moment.
He also knew that she put her life on the line to start the ball rolling on this project without even knowing what the project was. He knew that she saw something in him that he couldn't even see in himself. He had no idea what freedom and equality would feel like and didn't even know if that's something that he wanted. Vicky was special to him because she saw him as special.
It couldn't have been the mood change that he was able to change in women alone. He didn't see Cheryl or Rebecca trying to push for his freedom. He hadn't heard from Jean since the night of the party and Addison had only called once within the past few days to check up on things.
No.
Vicky was different and now she was gone. All because of him not thinking anything through properly and only doing what others would have him to do. How could he please everyone when everyone had different end-goals for him? He had to look at his life in a different way from this point on. But how should he look at his life?
Shaking his head, Lucky looked up as Cheryl came from her bedroom wearing all black and with a somber expression painted over her face. Her eyes met his for a moment before she looked away and walked into the dining room where he was sitting.
"The funeral's today," she explained, still not looking him in the eyes. "I'd take you, but men aren't allowed."
Lucky dropped his head and stared at the surface of the table. He glided his finger across as scratch mark that was left from the night of the party as his thoughts raced. How could the world be so cruel as to not allow him to attend a ceremony celebrating the life of a woman who had become, in a strange way, closer to him than any other? Anger began to swell within him, but he shook his head in an attempt to shake the futile feeling away.
"I'm sorry," Cheryl said as her voice cracked. "I know I've been a mess lately, but you have to understand that I just lost my best friend."
Lucky looked up to see his master staring at him with tears dropping from her eyes. Instead of his usual empathy, he just allowed the anger to erupt from deep within him. That was all he could take.
"And you think I didn't care for Vicky?!" He almost shouted, causing Cheryl's eyes to go wide in shock from the outburst. "Aside from you, she was the only woman in my life to see me as a human being and not some object to be used. She's never tried to play me for some agenda. She was someone who I was considering a friend, and for me, that would have made her just as valuable as she was to you."
He realized that the way he was shouting at his master was not only inappropriate but quite uncalled for. It wasn't Cheryl's fault that she wasn't aware that he had feelings for the woman. How could she? He wasn't even aware of it until a this all happened.
"You're right," Cheryl finally said as she walked to lucky and placed her hands gently on his shoulders. "Hurry up and get dressed."
Lucky looked up at Cheryl to see the determination on her face. She meant it. Would he end up going to the funeral to pay his respects?
"Really?" He asked as he stood up and faced her. "I can go?"
"Yes," she said, but a frown grew on her face. "But you still won't be able to actually go into the funeral home. Men are strictly not allowed in. There's building just outside for the men to wait. If there was anything I could do to change it I would, but you'll have to wait there. Is that okay?"
"It's better than nothing," he explained before rushing into his room and getting dressed.
He might not be able to enter the funeral home, but maybe there was a way for him to sneak a bit closer. He wasn't even sure what he was planning on getting out of it. Closure?
An hour passed with no interruptions or events and the two finally walked up to the large church as many women stood around weeping and sharing stories about Vicky. Lucky looked over to see the building that Cheryl had mentioned. It was much smaller than the church, but that was to be expected, and he could see men piling into the building like obedient puppets.
"I'll be out as soon as it's over to get you," Cheryl said as she placed her hand on the small of his back and turned from him. He walked over to the small building and looked over his shoulder. All the women were stepping inside and before long the parking lot was completely empty. He could hear laughter coming from inside the small building where the men were telling jokes and stories of their own. He had no place in there.
Scanning the outside of the church, Lucky spotted a lattice leading up to a window. He wondered if the flimsy wood would hold his weight long enough for him to get a peek inside. Shrugging away any doubts, he walked over and placed his fingers on the wood before lifting himself up and placing his feet in the holes below. So far so good. The climb was easier than he thought and soon he found himself peering into the window of the church.
He couldn't make anything out but could see that the rafters of the building were spaced enough apart with a long and wide board stretching all the way across the ceiling for a walkway and storage. Boxes of what appeared to be some kind of holiday decorations sat at the other end of the walkway. He gripped the bottom of the window and was pleasantly surprised when it swung open. He climbed inside and let the window drop shut softly by holding it with his foot.
He crawled on his belly over the walkway, trying to be as quiet as possible as the sounds of a woman spoke about souls or something below. He made it about halfway when a small movement caught his eye to his right.
He looked over and noticed a woman wearing all black lying on her stomach on another rafter to the back of the church. She was holding something long and looking straight down at someone. He found a rafter that he could crawl over to take him right to her back. If he could be quiet enough, maybe she would be too focused on whatever she was doing to hear him approach so he could get a closer look.
He placed his hands on the rafter and spun his body as quickly and gracefully as he could before belly crawling over to the back. He was about twenty feet from the woman now and could see what she was holding.
A rifle!
His heart started pounding so heavily that he was starting to fear that she might hear it and so he approached her from behind, slowly closing the gap. She didn't turn to face him as she was looking through the scope at someone below.
Could this woman be the one to kill Vicky?
The woman was tiny, wearing long black pants and a longsleeved shirt to match. He couldn't tell what color of hair she had, for she wore a black toboggan and had it all tucked inside. He was close enough to touch her boots at this point and she turned to look down her body at the man crawling up behind her. Her eyes shot wide as she spun on her back and tried to sling the rifle to aim at him, but he was faster and caught the barrel with one of his hands.
"You idiot," she whispered to him as he crawled up her body while still holding the rifle by the barrel. "What in the hell are you doing here?!"
