00. are you there, god?

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

OCTOBER 30TH, 1989

IT WAS THE NIGHT before Halloween in the quiet Wisconsin suburb. The trees that lined the street had turned to shades of red, orange, and yellow and the leaves began to cascade towards the ground. Raked piles sat on front lawns waiting for the children to jump in and some clogged the sewer grates, creating puddles begging to be splashed in.

At the end of the street sat a white-panelled house with a yellow front door. A wooden cross adorned it, just above the knocker. A new fence had been laid around the home's property, picket in style and waiting to be painted white to match the panelling. The lawn was freshly mowed and raked clean off all leaves. To the unsuspecting eye, this house looked like any other in the neighbourhood.

Inside, however, was anything but the perfect picture presented outside.

If the windows were to be left open, the neighbourhood would hear the constant screaming and arguing of Mr and Mrs Cunningham. Once, the two were high school sweethearts, deeply in love. Mrs Cunningham said that changed when she had their daughter. And she told that to ten-year-old Lucille every chance she got.

Being a woman of religion, the only plausible answer in her mind for her husband's new-found wandering eye was temptation put on him by the Devil. The 'Devil' being Lucille.

Mr Cunningham told a different story. He said he never truly knew love until he became a father. His wife began to change when Lucille was born and he felt it was his duty to keep her safe. But he could only do so much when he was away at work every day. He criticized his wife any chance he could get for the way she treated Lucille. But he was also scared. He loved Mrs Cunningham and he promised before God to be her lawful husband. That was not a vow he could easily break.

And so he was limited to bouts of arguments that resulted in him sleeping on the couch or in some instances, the family minivan.

On the nights her parents argued, which was every night, Lucille could be found in her room, her door barred shut with a makeshift lock made from a slinky and a couple of clothes hangers. She played her 45s on her record player loud enough to block out the yelling, but not loud enough that it would bother her mother.

She would be hunched over her sketchbook, scribbling away. She drew often. Her teacher called her a 'daydreamer' more than once in her report cards. She drew to escape into the worlds in her mind; worlds filled with magic, dragons, and heroes. Worlds unlike her own.

On this particular night, the argument downstairs had escalated. Lucille jumped at the sound of glass shattering. She rushed to her window and threw it open. Sticking her head out, she looked down. One of their dining chairs had been thrown through the front bay window.

The perfect facade the Cunningham family had put on shattered as fast as the window. Neighbours peeked out of their homes, curious as to what was happening.

Mrs Cunningham's shrill voice cut through the night. "Lucille Adriel Cunningham!"

The ten-year-old was frozen with fear at her windowsill. She knew how angry her mother would be with her if she went downstairs, but she also knew how much angrier she would be if Lucille stayed in her room. The girl picked the lesser of two evils.

She shimmied the homemade lock off of her door and hid it under her bed before she ducked out of her room. Her footsteps were purposefully light as she approached the stairs. She gripped the railing, attempting to steady her small shaking hands.

She could hear her father's voice, hushed and pleading with his wife. Mrs Cunningham was loud and dismissive. Lucille's bare feet touched the cold hardwood of the home's main floor and the wood creaked. Mrs Cunningham was there in an instant. Her eyes blazed with hatred. She grabbed Lucille's upper arm, causing her daughter to cry out in pain.

Mrs Cunningham pulled Lucille into the living room and pushed her onto the couch. "Miriam!" Mr Cunningham scolded his wife. "She has done nothing wrong!"

Mrs Cunningham barked bitterly. "Nothing? Has the Devil truly blinded you so, Conrad? She is the reason for all of this!" She pointed a bony, accusatory finger at the shaking girl.

Lucille stared at her father, unable to look at her mother. Mr Cunningham's eyes were angry. He shook his head. "Our daughter is not the Devil, Miriam! She is a child! Our child! I have had enough of your delusions!" Mr Cunningham grabbed the home's landline. "She isn't safe with you here."

Those words fundamentally changed Mrs Cunningham. As her husband dialled 9-1-1, she opened their coat closet, opened the safe, and pulled out Mr Cunningham's pistol. Lucille watched, unable to find her voice.

"You are corrupted," Mrs Cunningham stalked towards her daughter, holding the gun in front of her as if it protected her from the evil in the girl, which the girl was not. She was nothing but a scared child. "I can't allow you to keep corrupting others."

It all happened so quickly. Mrs Cunningham shot the pistol, Mr Cunningham dropped the phone, and Lucille was suddenly cradling her father in her arms. At the sound of the shot, neighbours had called the Police. Some came over to check on the family.

Lucille was pried off of her father, crying and screaming. Mr Cunningham was declared dead at the scene. Mrs Cunningham told the Police a lie and they believed her. She was not prosecuted, but Lucille was taken due to her mother's 'unstable' mind.

On Halloween, Lucille was with her grandparents. She did not want to go trick or treating, no matter how much her grandparents asked. She sat in her new bedroom, drawing and praying to a God that would never answer. She prayed for her mother to get better and for her father to be returned to her. Those things never happened.

From then on, the girl declared she hated God. She didn't disbelieve, but she hated him. She hated him because he took away her mother and father. It was him that corrupted her mother's mind and it was him that killed her father. God was not good to Lucille Cunningham.

AUTHORS NOTE

Ahhh hi!! Welcome to 'Losing Dogs'!! I'm so incredibly excited for this instalment of my Supernatural series.

With this prologue, I kinda leaned into the writing style of 'The Virgin Suicides'. Idk if y'all have read it but to me it has such a unique voice and style that I just couldn't help but emulate in this chapter because I feel like the religious trauma kind of called for it LMAO

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and don't forget to tell me your thoughts!!