This chapter is really sad, and has nothing to do with the plot. You can skip it if you want. My aunt passed away and I'm just…not in the right state of mind to write badass scenes with my favorite OC. But, I don't want to leave y'all with nothing. So, warning, this is sad…and unimportant.

Lately, Lucy had been having bad dreams. Or, more specifically, bad memories. She kept on seeing her with her adoptive parents, happy memories of them. It got so bad that one day she had woken up with tears streaming down her face.

But this last night, it was the worst of all. So horrible that she stayed in bed all morning, hiding underneath her sheets. The only reason she could tell the day was moving along without her was the heat building up in her bed.

"Sweetheart? Are you still asleep?" Harley's voice called out. Lucy groaned and pushed herself farther down into her bed. "I'll take that as a yes. It's alright, you deserve an off day. If you need anything, Daddy and I will be testing our new trap." Harley was surprised when that didn't stir Lucy from her bed. "It has lasers." She added. Nothing.

Lucy closed her eyes until she heard the door close. She folded the covers down to her lap and sat up, she could physically feel her hair being a bitch. Outside the sun shined in a cloudless sky. Lucy would growl at it if she thought it would make the clouds cover up the sun and make a thunderstorm roll in and stay forever. She thought back to the horrible dream…

Bethany woke up before her alarm clock, put some extra effort on her makeup and hair. She was prepared for her classes and her phone was fully charged with a text from her crush Vincent indicating he wanted to get coffee with her after class. The weather was perfect, with a glowing sun and a cool breeze. She saw the majority of her friends on the way to class and lastly, received a voicemail from her mother with the news that her father was 100% cancer free. Nothing could have made this day bad.

But, as we all know, when someone challenges the universe, they never win.

"Bethany," a chocked voice came from her phone.

"Aunt Anna, did you get the stomach flu from Jessie? You sound sick." Bethany pulled her keys out of her purse, moving her coffee to her other hand and twisting her keys with her fingers as she walked to her apartment.

"Bethany, you need to come home. There…there was a car accident."

And Lucy didn't know why it hit her heart like a semi-truck. She knew they were dead; she's known for months. She hadn't cried since…the funeral…where she saw the two people who loved her more than anything in the world lay dead. She remembered all the eyes, starring at her with 'poor thing' eyes. She had written her speech two hours before the funeral, she wanted to say what they talked about last. But she couldn't remember, she knew what she wanted it to be. Either 'I love you' or 'I'll see you soon' or even her name. But she couldn't remember, and it ate at her stomach so much that she felt physically sick.

She didn't know why she felt like she wanted to throw up. She definitely didn't want Harley or Joker to see her, she could barely hear their voices without screaming. They killed her parents, they murdered the people who raised her.

Lucy grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, and continued to scream until she felt light-headed and her throat felt like it was grated. It felt like her heart was slowing down to a stop and she couldn't do anything to prevent it.

Taking a deep breath, Lucy tried to untie the knot in her stomach. It didn't go away, and the tears ran down her cheeks without her consent.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop." She whispered. But, like most bodies, it did not listen to its owner. "Stop, stop, stop."

Lucy couldn't take it anymore, she angrily threw her sheet off the bed, along with the pillows. The bedside lamp fell with it, breaking the bulb inside. Lucy stepped down, a few pieces imbedded in her foot, but the pain was nothing compared to the pain she felt internally. She flew down the steps, in her pajamas, with no shoes.

She took the Torus and floored it until she was almost out of gas. It didn't take her far, but she was out of Gotham, and she was out of Jersey. And while she sat in the car, turning up the music to drown out of the sound of her horrific sobs, she knew that she could not drive away from her feelings. She had to do something about it, because she could deal with a stab wound, or a gun shut to the leg.

But this.

This was something she could not deal with, and she needed to fix it.