Exorcist in America

Lucy's mouth gaped open, wanting to scream out the tumultuous emotions in her heart, but in the end, she couldn't utter a sound.

Her throat felt as if it was sealed with plastic film, unable to even breathe properly.

The crying without sound, that pushed one to the edge of pain, made even the vocal cords feel helpless at this moment.

It was unclear how long this lasted, perhaps after venting the hatred that had unsettled her heart for over a decade, Lucy finally managed to compose herself. Her face, stained with a mix of sweat and tears, surprisingly settled into calmness.

She glanced at the woman's body on the ground, then at the man's body behind her, and at the other two bodies in the living room and kitchen.

Then, an idea struck her; she picked up the right hand of the woman's body and began dragging it toward an interior room.

After dumping it on the bed, she returned to drag the man's body and the other two bodies, piling them all together.

Next, she went to the main door and closed it.

Before coming here, she had carefully checked the surroundings.

Perhaps due to its isolation, ideal for abuse or killing, the location of this house was quite secluded.

There were woods nearby suitable for hunting.

Therefore, the four shotgun blasts from the double-barreled shotgun likely didn't attract attention, as nearby residents might assume the familiar gunshots came from hunting in the woods.

After securing the door, Lucy paused by the doorway to seriously look at the four piled-up bodies on the bed, watching the blood drip onto the floor, then turned to pick up her phone and dialed a number.

Her entire operation had been facilitated by the help of her only friend, Annagia.

The phone was answered almost immediately, as if the person on the other end had been waiting for this call.

"It was indeed them." Lucy's face took on a weepy expression again.

"I recognized them, Annagia."

The other end of the conversation featured Annagia, sitting in a car, an Asian woman whose expression now turned anxious.

"I just came from your house and didn't find you,"

Thinking something over, she added,

"Wait, you saw them?"

"Yes, their appearances have changed, but I'm certain." Lucy replied.

Annagia took a deep breath, recalling Lucy's preparation; she could guess what Lucy might have already done.

"Lucy, that was 15 years ago, and newspaper photos aren't reliable."

Lucy collapsed to the floor, "I say it counts. If I say it's them, then it's them."

Annagia gritted her teeth, "You haven't acted yet, have you? We can still call the police, Lucy, please…"

"No need." Lucy said, "I've already done what I needed to do."

"Fk! You acted without first conducting surveillance, without a plan?" Annagia was exasperated.

"You said it, you wanted to find evidence."

"I'm sure it's them. There's definitely evidence in their house, Annagia, sorry, I have to shoulder this alone," Lucy declared.

"I love you."

With those words, Lucy hung up the phone, regardless of Annagia's response, and silently got up.

She intended to find evidence herself, confident that she hadn't misidentified them.

Annagia sat in the car, staring at the disconnected phone, a rage bubbling up within her. She threw the phone aside and hastily burst out of the car, running toward Lucy's place, seeking the address of her enemies.

Meanwhile, Lucy was already on her way to find evidence, smashing furniture and entering every room, finding nothing suspicious nor any traces of a basement.

But she didn't give up. Observing the layout of the house and following her memory, she reached the living room.

Finally, she turned to look at the wooden cabinet on the kitchen wall, which held various ornaments.

However, due to the impact from the girl earlier, a small window in it had broken.

Curiously, this small window did not reveal the color of the wall but showed a small black hole instead.

This all seemed very suspicious.

So, Lucy picked up her shotgun and walked over, firing a shot at the cabinet.

Bang!

The cabinet shattered, revealing a small square hole.

For some reason, staring into the dark square hole filled Lucy with fear.

She was reminded of past abuses.

Then, perhaps it was an illusion, but she seemed to see a scar-covered woman in white, contorted like a spider, crawling out from within.

But looking at this white-dressed woman now, Lucy did not feel the fear she had before.

Instead, feeling empowered by her successful revenge, she was quite composed.

"I'm serious, I've already acted."

Watching the disheveled white-dressed woman slowly approach, Lucy clenched her jaw, pulling out a cross from her pocket to confront the white-dressed woman who had haunted her sleep for many years.

"I said, I've already acted!"

However, the woman in white suddenly lifted her face, revealing bloodstained, flesh-mangled features with her mouth sewn shut. Lucy gasped, her breath halting as she instinctively took a step back.

At that moment, the horrifically disfigured woman suddenly lunged at Lucy with her mouth wide open.

Lucy instinctively closed her eyes, but the next second, she only felt a breeze brush against her cheek.

A few seconds later, when she opened her eyes, the woman in white had disappeared, leaving only the curtains by the French windows fluttering in the wind.

Lucy's emotions became complex, a mix of everything, but her resolve was strong. She looked at the small square hole and slowly stepped inside.

What appeared before her was a basement, emitting a familiar odor.

It was a stench deeply embedded in her memory from the abuse.

That familiar smell alone triggered flashbacks of abuse in her mind: being slapped, having nails pulled, teeth yanked, being drilled into with sharp instruments, and cut with surgical knives.

Looking down into the abyss-like darkness of the basement, Lucy tightly gripped the cross, seemingly drawing courage from it, dropped the shotgun, and pulled out her phone for light as she descended the steps.

Reaching the bottom, she shone her light on the walls, finding a switch similar to a light switch and pressed it.

One by one, lights flickered on, illuminating the entire basement.

What Lucy saw was a long corridor that had been scraped clean, suggesting the basement was even larger than the house above.

Lucy was momentarily stunned but continued forward, drawn to the desks and notebooks beside the corridor.

Photographs hanging on the corridor walls caught her attention.

Each was a horrifying image of abused girls, without exception.

The first showed a girl, her body sewn up, her eyes lacking any focus.

The next was a girl with her throat cut.

Another showed a girl with her limbs severed, laid out beside her.

Another was disemboweled...

One after another, Lucy gazed transfixed, touching the photographs, her grip on the cross tightening as if seeking courage, and even began to envision the face of the priest.

"Damn it." Lucy cursed under her breath, unable to hold back the tears that now freely flowed.

Just then, she heard a noise and quickly followed the sound to the next room. The sound came from below—it was another level of the basement, but the door was locked.

Lucy searched for the keys, eventually finding a set on the wall. She tried them one by one until the door opened.

Peering inside, she then grabbed a flashlight from a table nearby.

Presumably, the couple always took the flashlight down with them and left it on the table when they came up.

Lucy envisioned this scenario as she turned on the flashlight and descended.

What she saw was utter darkness.

It might have been Lucy's imagination, but the flashlight's beam seemed suppressed by the darkness, unable to reach further as if the deepest part of the basement had no limit.

A chill air made her shiver.

But the depths of the darkness intrigued her more.

In such an environment, every sound seemed amplified.

She heard heavy, fearful breathing.

Following the sound, the flashlight beam first illuminated a chain.

This brought back terrible memories for Lucy, who had also been chained by her limbs.

Gritting her teeth, Lucy followed the chain upward with her flashlight until she saw a woman, emaciated to the bone, with no intact skin, cowering in a corner, trembling continuously.

Her head was fixed in a metal frame, her eyes hollowed out, and her lower parts nailed to a metal frame, revealing the extent of the torture she had endured.

Perhaps sensing someone's presence, the woman's trembling intensified.

Lucy quickly approached her,

"It's okay, it's okay, I'll get you out of here."

As Lucy spoke, the woman instinctively lifted her head, uncertainly stretching out her hand, which Lucy met with a look of compassion, placing her hand in front of the woman's.

Their hands touched, and the woman's trembling slowly ceased, her grip tightening on Lucy's hand.

She had been so abused that even this simple touch and warmth indicated to her who was there.

Seeing the woman in this state, an indescribable emotion surged through Lucy. She leaned down and embraced the skeletal woman, murmuring,

"It's okay, it's okay."

Not long after, Lucy managed to rescue the woman and took her to the bathroom to clean her wounds, trying to pry the lock on her head, but the nails were driven deep into the bone, beyond her ability to remove.

Thinking for a moment, Lucy stepped out of the bathroom, took out her phone, and dialed 911.

"Hello, what do you need help with?"

"At 125 Elm Town, there's been a shooting , people are dead," Lucy reported.

"There are injured people."

"A shooting? How extensive is it? Are you injured? Can you provide more information?" the dispatcher began to ask.

As the dispatcher continued to inquire, Lucy already hung up the phone.

She knew the routine; the police would already have her location from the call. Whether or not she answered their questions, the police were likely already on their way.

Although Elm Town was small, it was still within police jurisdiction, and with the mention of a shooting, the police response would be unexpectedly swift.

Thinking this, Lucy felt a sense of despair, suddenly finding herself lost in a blur of aimlessness, slumping onto a blood-stained sofa.

Having achieved her revenge, she suddenly found herself without a purpose in life.

Abruptly, she remembered Annagia.

...

Unbeknownst to her, Annagia had already obtained the address and was hurrying towards her location.

Meanwhile, not far away, a man responsible for surveillance slid into one of the three cars parked nearby.

Soon, the three seemingly ordinary but luxuriously outfitted cars began moving towards Lucy's location.

Lucy, her hand stained with blood, looked on with a vacant stare, waiting for the police, unaware that cameras with flashing red lights were positioned throughout the living room, kitchen, and hallways.

As the three cars made their move, in a hidden location, two more ordinary-looking cars also stirred, slowly following behind the trio of vehicles.

Inside these two cars sat none other than John Wick.

Sitting in the passenger seat, he was fitting a silencer to his favorite pistol, a Viper.

As a top-tier assassin, he never engaged in a fight unprepared.

At that moment, a monk in the back received a phone call and reported:

"The target has called the police, and a police squad is on its way here."

"By order of the bishop, no one else is to interfere with this matter," John Wick said calmly.

"Understood, I will make them turn back."

With that, the monk in the back nodded and began to manipulate his phone.

As the police received orders from their superiors on the other end, Lucy, still sitting on the sofa, heard something and instinctively turned around.

The woman who had been unconscious in the bathroom was now feeling along the wall, coming out.

"Wait, wait a minute."

It seemed the woman wanted to run. Lucy quickly stood and approached her.

"I've already called the police, I reported it!"

Unexpectedly, the woman screamed, rejecting Lucy's support for reasons unknown.

"It's going to be okay."

Lucy continued forward, trying to support the woman with a gentle voice, soothing her as she calmed the woman's struggles.

"It's going to be okay. The police are almost here, and I mentioned you were injured, there might be an ambulance on the way."

As someone who had also suffered from a harsh, unjust world, Lucy's inherent kindness still lingered.

Perhaps, if it hadn't been for this incident, she would have been a gentle girl.

Maybe Lucy's gentleness had an effect because the woman stopped struggling and let Lucy support her. She just stared ahead, seemingly at Lucy, her lips parting.

"Hurry…"

The woman's voice was too soft; Lucy couldn't hear her clearly and leaned closer.

"What? What do you want to tell me?"

The woman lifted her head, her breathing heavy. In a very soft voice, she said:

"…run…"

Lucy's eyes widened.

Just then, a loud bang resounded, shaking the sky.

It was a gunshot!

Before Lucy's shocked eyes, the woman's face exploded, blood and gore splashing onto Lucy's face.

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