text: "Goodbye, Lucy," the secretary didn't look up from her computer screen as her fingers furiously plucked away at her well-worn computer. Lucy didn't respond, as she had already worked an hour after her day had ended and was fed up with the tedious charade that office relationships had become. The secretary gave a look of disgust that smelled of future office gossip. She didn't need this. She stepped out into the cool Boston air and was refreshed for half an instant before the stink and noise of hit her senses like a light slap from an old friend. Lucy snatched a parking ticket off of her windshield and stuffed them in her pocket: they were cheaper than the parking under her building She got into the car her grandmother had left her, a clunker that struggled to start and was shambling towards a quarter million miles on the odometer that could barely be read through the grime that had built up over the last three decades. Lucy tried the car twice, three times before sitting back in the old beige seat. She didn't need this. On the way home, Lucy ran into especially bad traffic. She sat for nearly an hour, glancing at her cracked wristwatch as the sun waned over the eastern horizon. This, she really didn't need. Well after dark, she pulled into the parking designated for her apartment building. Her spot was taken, as it was about half the time. This time, there were no open spots for her to steal. She didn't need this. With a festering ball of frustration and depravity in her gut, Lucy drove two blocks South to park at the 24-Hour Save-Mart, the one place in her neighborhood she knew she wouldn't get a ticket. She stepped out into the cool air and immediately her a loud snap and felt a twist in her ankle as she dropped to her hands and knees. She rolled over to sit down and inspect her foot. A broken ankle would send her hurtling significantly farther into debt than she already was, but she had only broken a heel. She switched into a battered pair of sneakers she had in the trunk only to discover a missing sole. She frowned and kept them on anyway. She didn't need this. On her way home, there was no one to be seen. Only in her neighborhood could there be the threatening sound of car alarms, horns, and things breaking without the sight of the perpetrators. She was used to it. Hell, she slept through worse on a regular basis. As she was walking, she heard footsteps behind her. She sped up, not wanting human interaction for a second longer. The footsteps mirrored her acceleration, and then some. Now this was something she truly didn't need. She whipped her pepper spray out of her purse and wheeled around to face her attacker. Nothing. With a sigh of relief she resumed her fast pace towards her building, now in sight, but continued to glance back over her shoulder towards the darkness that seemed to grow and reach out to her as she sped away. Divorced out of an abusive relationship and living with her grandmother, Lucy had learned to care for and defend herself. Her grandmother had named and raised her as her father died overseas on tour and her mother had not survived the birth. She had cooked and taught Lucy for all 31 years of her life, and was the most important person in the world. Becoming senile, the old woman often thought Lucy was eight or nine, but Lucy allowed, even enjoyed a little, the old woman's bedtime stories and Lullaby's her favorite being, "Goodbye Lucy", a family story which Lucy's name was drawn. The elevator attendant offered her a sweet and she turned it down with a weak smile as she always did. He was one of the few people she didn't mind conversing with. Lucy stepped off the elevator and was greeted with a bad feeling that immediately enveloped her like a warm cloak. She hurried over to the door and noticed that the lock had been smashed. Lucy's heart dropped as she though about her old and blind grandmother, her only family in the world. She had her phone and was dialing 911 as she stepped inside to try to find her grandmother. The apartment was dark and eerily quiet. There were no signs of robbery or her grandmother. Lucy was too afraid to call out, so she quietly crept into the kitchen, praying frantically that her grandmother was alright. She didn't need this, not today. She rounded the corner into the dining room and saw her Grandmother sitting at the counter. She felt relief wash over her as she noticed that the old woman was crudely bound with a belt and gagged with a handkerchief. She tried warning Lucy with a muffled cry, but as Lucy turned to face the living room her vision went dark as something hefty smashed her in the face, knocking her to the ground and sending her pepper spray and phone skittering across the floor. She didn't need this. Her mouth, wet with blood from her broken nose, tried to plea as her vision was restored, though blurry and riddled with little dashing stars. The plea stopped short when she saw Lucy's ex-husband standing over her, stinking of rum with a horrible grin below terrible dead eyes that told Lucy her pleas would only cause him to become more violent. He tossed the small six-shooter he had pistol whipped her with onto the counter. He kicked her in the stomach and dropped down on top of her, running his hand up her leg. He was going to take her, right in front of her grandmother. He leaned in, pinning her against the floor and whispered with a drunken slur, "Goodbye Lucy". She needed that. The anger that those words gave her revitalized her body, which had been petrified from pain and fear. She waited for him to begin undoing his pants to take the keys still in her hand and shove them into his eye with surprising force. He grasped at her throat, but his screaming and struggle to get away from her only gave her more strength. She gave them a final push before rising to he feet and kicking him in the stomach has he screamed and cursed and struggled to pull the now bloody keys from his eye socket. He began to rise with a newborn fury is his wide eyes and red face as the seeping whole that was his eye pumped blood through his dirty sausage fingers. She picked up the gun he had set down and turned to face him, but he was faster than she expected. He grabbed her hair and through her to the ground again. His pants fell to the ground, as he reached down to grab her again. She pulled then gun up to his chest. He froze, stood up, and began to laugh. He looked at her with a bloody grin that quickly vanished when she cocked the gun and sat up. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut short by six gunshots, all in a row. He fell backwards onto the coffee table, shattering it, dead. She needed that. She slowly came to her feet, and unbound her old caretaker, who was just as scared as Lucy was. She dropped the gun on the ground and sat down at the table. She was covered in blood and shaking like tree in the wind but she allowed a smile to creep across her face as her grandma grasped her hand in her own and began to sing Goodbye Lucy. That was all she would need.