Hey guys! This is Britannia's (or as you might know her better, Little Miss Infamous) best friend, Natalie. For several months, me and her have been collab writing this fanfiction together; going back and forth writing scenes and coming up with scenarios. As you know, Sarah Casey is Britannia's OC that she created. I had created an OC for this fanfiction as well by the name Lucy Meyer. This is the first chapter where she will make an official appearance, though its only her origin.

**All first 6 chapters were purely written by Britannia, this is the first chapter I wrote. Hope ya like it~

Lucy's Origin: Part 1

It was always the same dream.

Pain. Fear. Despair.

"Beth! NO!"

Screaming. Terror.

"No! No, stop! PLEASE!"

Blood. So much blood.

"Take her away! Hurry!"

"But what about-"

"Please... Please don-"

But still, They call for me. Beckoning. Waiting.

Watching... Always watching me.

Pain. Fear. Despair.

"STOP!"

The little girl woke with a sharp inhale. Breathing heavily with adrenaline still pumping through her veins, she took in the familiarity of her bedroom. Seeing the youthful light green colouring of the walls, and the white sheer curtains framing her window, the six year old began to calm down a little. She raised her hand up to her face and realized her cheeks were wet with tears.

"..Daddy?" Lucy croaked out with a distressed voice, still feeling rattled from the nightmare. When no response came, she called out again a little louder. "Daddy? Where are you!" still no response. Lucy realized that she was alone in the house. But it was still dark outside, what time was it exactly? The little girl didn't know. Still too frightened to go back to sleep, she laid down gently on her lumpy mattress and stared at the ceiling for a while.

It wasn't long after that when she heard the sound of the door open, and some man cussing out what sounded to Lucy like 'bad words'. By the sound of the voice, she knew it must have been her father. Lucy crawled out of bed, slipped on her little kitty cat slippers, and padded slowly and quietly down the hallway.

She discovered a dim ray of light coming from the kitchen area, peaked her head out from behind the corridor wall and saw that it was indeed her father, Jack Meyer, as she suspected. But something wasn't quite right about him this time. Now normally, he never really looked all that happy whenever the girl looked his way. But compared to right now, he looked especially miserable. He was dirty and sweaty, his body kept swaying back and forth like a metronome, and he was holding a bottle of some sort in his hand...

"Daddy..? What are you doing?"

Jack's head snapped in the direction Lucy called and noticed his little daughter standing in the foot of the hallway. His expression looked frantic, then suddenly his eyes grew cold. He spoke to her in a firm, almost lethal way that made the hairs on Lucy's little neck stand on end.

"Lucy, go back to bed."

"Where did you go?"

"Lucy."

"But Daddy, I had a nightm-"

"I said go to bed!" Jack's voice flared with rage as he spoke. His hand smashed down on the nearby counter at the last of his sentence, causing Lucy to jump. She began to feel her anxiety building back up again. Standing frozen in place, eyes glued to the twisted, dangerous look in her father's eyes, she trembled a little and tears threatened to form in her eyes once again.

Lucy quickly turned on her heels and ran back toward her bedroom in terror. She sobbed as she hid under her covers and squeezed her eyes shut. She muffled her cries into her pillow, afraid of what her father may do if she was too loud. Her body was shaking like a leaf in the wind, her heart threatened to pop out of her chest. And the only thought left running through the girls little mind was, "Why is daddy always so scary?"

The warm water came rushing down from the tap, creating a smooth sound throughout the dingy apartment. The clear liquid pooled up in the sink along with the soap and dirty dishes that the eleven year old Lucy was scrubbing at vigorously with a sponge. Her thick, dark brown waves of hair were tied up in a simple messy ponytail, her bangs settling on her forehead and cheeks; tickling her face slightly as she concentrated on washing all the excess food off the plate she was cleaning up.

Most kids her age hated doing chores, but it was something she had grown quite used to. Being on her own in the house most of the time, she had been forced to upkeep the care of it and do the majority of the work. It eventually began to become something of relaxing activity for Lucy. There's a lot of stress and tense energy that goes on in this house, after all. At least at the times when he was at home. She sucked in a short breath swerved her head toward the door. Still no sign of her father.

Drinking again, she thought.

Not that she minded his absence. She knew the amount of alcohol consumption her father took in on a daily basis was no doubt unhealthy, but at this point in time, she savored every moment when her dad was out looking for more of the liver poisoning substance. Was it normal to be afraid of your parent? Lucy didn't think so. But for her, avoiding contact with her father was a thing of the norm. Neither of them spoke to each other much, and when they do, they tend to get into heated fights. Her father is never pleasant when he's impaired, and unfortunately he tends to be in that state ninety-five percent of the time. Lucy has even had to hide from him a few times on occasion when things have gotten really bad.

She hated being afraid. She hated it more than anything. It made her feel weak, powerless. Sure, she was still just a little girl, but no one should have to hide themselves away from the ones who had given them life. She could never understand why he treated her like some demon spawn all her life. But she knew he couldn't have always been like this. She's seen old pictures of him, back in the days when Lucy was just a baby. Pictures of him with Beth, her mother, whom she never got the opportunity to know. He always looked... happy. Loving. Like he was a man who cared.

Lucy's mother died when she was about two years old. She was too young to remember any memory of her. Her father doesn't speak about her to Lucy, and it's a subject that she'd rather not approach with him. Lucy never could figure out why, but now that she's beginning to get older, she's starting to realize that maybe he's taking his anger out on her because of what happened back then.

She's sneaked a peek at photographs of Beth while her dad was out a few times times, as well as old belongings that was once in the woman's possession. There was a little briefcase filled with stuff of her mother's hidden in her father's closet. That is the closest Lucy has ever gotten to getting to know about her mother. As a result, she doesn't really know all that much about her mother other than the fact that she was very beautiful. She looked almost like a goddess to Lucy. She had these gorgeously shiny tresses of strawberry blonde hair, a polar opposite to Lucy's dark brown curled waves. And these beautifully vibrant blue eyes. Her skin was flawlessly unblemished, much like a dolls. Lucy had inherited her eye colour from her mom, she discovered. And the little pre-teen was very thankful for that. Blue was always her favorite colour, and thanks to her mom she got to see it every time she stared in the mirror. If only she got to talk to her mother in person, just once...

Lucy was suddenly pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of some bowls shifting around on the drying rack next to her. Focusing herself back to reality, she squeezed a little more dish soap into the sink and finished up the task at hand.

After she finished up washing dishes, stacking them very neatly on the drying rack and wiping off the counter, she went to check the mail. Stalking over to the doormat where the envelopes and brochures sat after being shot through the letter box in the door, Lucy picked them up and passively flipped through them.

"Junk mail, junk mail, more junk..." Lucy's words abruptly stopped as her eyes happened to stick to one of the pieces of mail. It was a purple brochure, advertising an adoption and foster care center. Oakland Family Services, it read. Along with it came a phone number and the address revealing it's location in Pontiac, Michigan; the next town over from Landsing where Lucy is living. She ran her fingers along the eye-catching print for a moment. The girl wasn't sure why exactly her eyes had pinned to it, and with quick thinking she folded it down into a small enough square so that she could stuff it in her jeans pocket.

And that was when Lucy heard the apartment door open. The brunette gulped down her anxiety that began to bubble up in her stomach and tried to be as calm and collected as she could when she saw her drunk father waltz in unsteadily. Jack didn't shoot her a glance at all, it was almost as if she wasn't there. Though of course, Lucy was never one to complain. Usually when her father was in a particularly better mood than most were the times when he would ignore her completely. Lucy slowly began backing out as quietly as she could to retreat to her little bedroom. She moved as softly as a mouse, being as careful as she could in case she would set him off in some way. The girl got as far as her door frame when she flinched at the sound of her father's stern, but slurred voice.

"Lucy, you were supposed to do the dishes."

She turned back around and walked cautiously back to him. "But I did, dad."

There was a tone of great irritation in the man's aggressive voice. "Then why am I still seeing them sitting on the counter?"

Lucy bit her lip as she eyed the plates still stacked on the drying rack. She forgot to put them away. Damn. She thought in her head. Now you're really asking for it, Luce.

"I'm sorry, dad. I didn't think to-"

"No. You didn't think." Jack interrupted, still having his back turned on Lucy. He had his hands braced on the edge of the counter for support, staring hard at the dishes as he spoke.

"But, that's nothing new to you, isn't it? You were never the brightest kid. It's only natural that you'd manage to screw up something so simple."

At this, Lucy's eyes flared in her own rage. Her fear began to eb away and transfer into something more hostile. Normally, she would have accepted the unnecessary put downs. However lately nowadays, she's been growing tired of it. For a long time now, this suppressed anger and hate toward the way her father has treated her over the years had been bottled up; just aching to burst and come flowing out like egg yolk. It's been getting more and more difficult to keep under control like she was so used to doing all the time. So today, Lucy decided to talk back a little. To stop cowering away.

She was rebelling, you could say.

"I have a brain, you know. And a good one at that." Lucy's voice came out as firm as she could put it toward her father.

Jack rotated his body to look at her ever so slightly. There was a cold placid darkness in his eyes. "What was that, young lady? You should know better than to talk that way toward your father!" the man's voice raised. Lucy's body trembled ever so slightly, but she had already started speaking out. Her emotions were easily taking over her and in the moment, she could care less about what her father thought.

"What. After years of treating me like dirt, you suddenly decide to become 'father of the year' and start lecturing me?" the girl stalked closer to him.

"Watch it." Jack simply said back. His voice grew unnaturally calm, the kind of calm that was very unnerving and could turn to the other extreme in a split second. But Lucy didn't care, she kept on going.

"Some father you are!" Lucy's voice rose to a shout. "When was the last time you ever actually addressed me as your daughter, huh? I don't remember one!"

"Lucy, that's enough."

"You don't treat me like your daughter, so why should I treat you like my father?! I've had enough! You can't keep taking out your frustrations on me! Just because mom died-"

That was more than enough to trigger Jack. Lucy's words cut short and she jumped, startled at the loud crashing noise. Jack had thrusted his hands forward and threw some of the clean dishes, smashing them. All anger had suddenly washed away in Lucy as she watched horrified at the shards and broken pieces flew everywhere like porcelain rain, and her father walked up to her with great speed. He took her by the arms and gripped them so hard she could feel her pulse rapidly pumping blood through the veins running under her skin as it was losing circulation. She winced and screamed, trying to break herself free of him. All she could hear through the ringing of her ears was his deadly voice as he shouted violently two inches away from her face;

"BETHANY'S NOT HERE ANYMORE!"

Lucy's heart was pumping abnormally fast. She whimpered in terror and tried harder to break free but finding no luck. "Gh-! STOP IT! LET ME GO!"

"AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

The words kept sounding in her ears. Everything was happening way too fast. Her father raised a hand and slapped her across her face, hard. The pain stung and lingered as she cried out louder. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears were beginning to blur her vision from Jack's murderous expression. She began to kick desperately. He kept shaking her around with a violent energy and her wrists ached from the intense pressure of his hands.

"LET. GO. OF. ME-!" Lucy kept screaming. She was too overpowered by her father.

And just like that, it all came to a sudden freeze. There was a loud thump, an overbearing figure stepping away in horror at what they'd just done, and the whole nightmare faded to black.

Lucy's eyelids drifted open heavily, her vision spinning in and out of focus for a few moments. She blinked a few times before her surroundings began to look more crisp. The kitchen, the couch nearby, everything looked sideways. It was then when the young girl realized that her face was squishing up against a cold, flat surface; she was lying on the floor.

What happened? Was all that was running through her mind. She moved to get up and that's when she winced and put her hand towards her head. The room spun around her temporarily as an intense ache took place in her skull. She took her hand off eventually and inhaled sharply at the sight of blood appearing suddenly on her fingers. As she examined the area further she noticed the bruises on her wrists, the purple and blue stains blossoming like May flowers across her skin. Her heart was hammering in her little chest as her memories started catching up with her.

I blew up at him, she thought. We were fighting and then he...

"He hit me." Lucy whispered the last part hoarsely under her breath. She raised another hand and gently grazed her fingertips over the raw, red cheek that was struck and felt a sharp, stinging sensation at the contact. He grabbed me and I tried to pull away from him, that was when I... she turned around slowly and noticed the bookshelf behind her that she supposedly flew into.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until she made a long, hard, exhale. Her bottom lip quivered as hot tears started tumbling down her cheeks. She stared down at the floorboards as a couple of them dripped and fell on the old wood. She wiped her eyes tensely in anger and she bitterly said to herself, "I always knew you were a deadbeat father, but I never imagined you'd go this far."

Lucy looked around the apartment with her foggy tear-filled eyes. It was eerily quiet as she sat there alone, on her own, like she'd always been her whole life.

Suddenly, a light went off in the brunettes head. "I'm alone.. He left again." her eyes widened and she hastily felt around in her pant pocket to see if the brochure she picked up was still there. Her fingers found there way to a wrinkled, papery material. "Bingo." she yanked it out of her jeans and unfolded it to take another good look at it. Lucy swerved her eyes over to the door and her lips pursed in a sudden burst of determination. "Now's my chance."

She flicked on the light in her bedroom and made a beeline to her closet. In there she found her piggy bank. Lucy always hid it from her father in the very back of the enclosed space so he wouldn't get his hands on her money. That guy would do anything for more booze.

She removed the little plug in the bottom and let all the coins pour out onto the floor. Then proceeded to pry out the little wad of cash out with her fingers. She'd been secretly saving money up all these years should any major emergency happen. The girl couldn't quite depend on her father for much of anything, so she felt it best to do whatever she could to take care of her own needs. And after the events that just took place, this seemed like a good enough emergency to finally put this money to good use. She counted it all up and set it aside for the time being.

Lucy then began to look around her room for something to carry her things in. She decided she wouldn't be packing very much, just a few things that are necessary. Her father could return at any moment. So if she wanted to leave, she needed to move fast. She spotted an object resting under her bed and pulled it out. Sure enough, it was a bag. A messenger bag, to be exact. It was made of brown leather. It had a couple buckles sitting on either side of the flap lid to secure it. Simple, no patterns or nothing. The girl bought it a couple summers ago at a yard sale. She couldn't quite figure out why it caught her eye so much, but she liked it. She lifted the flap and began filling it up with some objects; a hair brush, toothbrush, the money she pulled out of her piggy bank... and her precious old sketchbook that she always drew in.

Lucy walked out of her room and was about to leave when a thought had crossed her mind. She spun on her heels and started to head toward her father's bedroom. In there she began to search for it; the briefcase where Jack kept all belongings of her mother. "Now where was it again..." she could recall him keeping it somewhere in the back of his dresser in the bottom drawer.

At last she found it, but her hands froze abruptly as she watched them lingering atop the buckles that were holding the case closed. Anxiety bubbled up in her chest. Should she really be doing this? Was it right to take these sort of things without consent? She thought of her mother, the vague images of her that only existed in her memory. She looked so... innocent. Then Lucy began to think to herself, would she ever do something like this? Her heart dropped in her chest. "Mom..." she tried the word softly on her lips. It seemed so foreign to her; she'd barely ever actually said it out loud. There was no reason to, really. She bit her lip and flicked open the buckles. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I could leave here without taking a little piece of you with me."

Lucy took a deep breath as she lifted open the lid and stared at her mother's possessions. All she took were some photographs. She made sure to leave the other stuff behind. She tucked the photos away safely in a little inside pocket of the messenger bag to make sure they wouldn't get destroyed or bent. And with that, Lucy closed the briefcase and headed straight for the door; with nothing but the clothes on her back and a brown bag slung over her tiny shoulder.

The brunette turned the knob and stopped to give the apartment one last look. Lucy was always told that when kids ran away from home, they were supposed to feel broken, lost, reluctant to leave. Though it sure felt different to her. Sure, they got the broken and lost part right, but looking at it all... she really wouldn't miss this place.

It never truly felt like a home anyway.

It may seem a little confusing now, but the reason why I introduced Lucy's origin right away will make much more sense once the second part comes out (next chapter) so please keep reading! Favorite and review if you like the fanfic.
- Natalie D.