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She couldn’t even put a number on the hits she had taken in the last 3 years. How much more should one person take, should one person deal with. She chose to follow her passion and in doing that she lost her parents, and then she lost her boyfriend…the first man she had taken seriously in, well in her entire life.
But she pushed through it, she kept fighting, even with Bradford as her TO. She went above and beyond, she went to work during breakups and heartbreak, no matter how personal, no matter how she was personally judged, she pushed on.
Then came the ridiculous short-sleeve bullshit. Despite a decent score in her exams, despite how much she had protected him in the past, how she had fought for him, how she had literally protected him, with both her physical body and reputation, she still wasn’t enough.
Well not until she acted like a pimp and got him a quick fuck, one he tried to duck out of without paying for…it was a little better after that. Sex clearly suited him, so she tucked away her personal shame and accepted that he was happy, and well that’s what she actually wanted.
Then the world was dark, and it was nothing but hurt and fire and terror. She had died, clinically, literally and well then emotionally as well for a while. And on top of that, if she wanted to keep her job, keep the one thing in life that she was sure about, well then, she had to go back to normal, in less than a month! Less than a month after being kidnapped, after being buried alive, less than a month after dying…at the hands of a serial killer…and people just clapped for her…Like she hadn’t gone through the worst experience of her life, and then just as quickly it was forgotten…forgotten by the station, by her TO, by her friends.
It was forgotten by anyone other than her, and she lived in that pain night after night, waking up in a silent scream of terror, with no-one, not one single person who could, who would curl themselves around her, no one who made her feel safe. She didn’t feel safe in normality anymore…so instead she slept in her car. As soon as Jackson went to bed, Lucy snuck down to her car, and she thrived in a silence that she shouldn’t have. A silence that both terrified and comforted her, and in that silence, she sang to herself again, and she sang her own personal song of shame and horror.
She can’t actually believe that she was stupid enough to think her parents actually wanted to support her, she was nothing but a mistake to them both, from conception…nothing was good enough, nothing she ever did would be good enough for them. It was the night she officially made P2, and she was left sobbing alone over a pot of soup that, just like her, would never be good enough.
Her best friend was gone, she had stood in her fancy clothing and watched him get shot, but there wasn’t even a moment to process, to even breath! Why were they the ones at the airfield? Why were patrol officers who just lost their friend the ones trying to arrange a covert op to rescue another, why was she the one returning alone to the home that she once lived in with a friend she will now never see again…why…
And then for a time there was joy, and light and love and laughter. She was happy, so happy, they were making plans for the future, talks of marriage and children were more and more frequent, and Tim loved her, and she loved him.
She was happy, an almost long forgotten feeling, it was freeing in a sense, in a way, because it truly felt that this time her happiness would be staying, because she had a family, she had support, she had love.
Until she didn’t…
She really wasn’t sure which was worse, them turning their backs on her when she was being unfairly sabotaged with the detectives exam, or how Tim turned to Angela rather than her when he needed help, or how she was left standing alone in a parking lot after she had once again risked her life and career for the man who was supposed to love her for the rest of her life.
And then she knew what was worse…she was officially the stations joke, she was worse than Smitty, she was being laughed at not only behind her back, but to her face as well, and not a single one of them stepped up, defended her, held her, told her that it wasn’t fair…no she was alone again.
But this loneliness hurt so much more than it had in the past, because she had fooled herself into thinking, believing, that she was loved by them.
Another day on patrol alone, back to her apartment alone, no text messages, nothing, just her and her tequila, and well, what was one more bad decision in her life, may as well drunk text her ex-boyfriend, may as well, because there was nothing left to lose.
You are a fucking coward you know that.
*
Do you even care that I’m hurting, that what you’ve done has hurt me!? Is hurting me?
*
Did you know that the station has a poll going, that lists you as cheating on me? Or you and Isabelle having a secret child together? I’ve never in my entire life felt so worthless, so much less than human.
*
Tim, I’m feeling broken, and I’m alone and you won’t even talk to me? Was I ever worth anything to you? Ever? At any point in the last five years did I mean anything real to you? Did you ever really love me?
*
Well then I guess that this is goodbye, forever. I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough for you. I hope that one day you can find someone who can make you happy, I really wish that I could have been that person.
*
I gave up everything for you, I guess I didn’t realise that I had even more that could be taken from me. So well done, now my dignity and reputation are also gone, and you won’t even fucking talk to me you coward!
Put down the tequila please, we can talk tomorrow Lucy.
Fuck you! You’re telling me that you’re not ¾ deep in your bourbon?
I’m not the one drunk texting Lucy!
I’m just telling you the truth, you’ve killed my career Tim, so well fucking done. I’ll be transferring tomorrow, and you’ll never need to see me again, but I guess that’s what you wanted all along, because clearly I was never anything more than a quick fuck, a joke, a stupid little girl.
*
I need you Tim, please, I’m hurting, please…I need you.
Lucy stares at her phone, nothing, not a call, nothing. He obviously never saw them actually being long term, not really. She took a breath, Tamara had moved out, Celina could take over her lease, she could move away, and she restart her life. She needed to leave, god she needed to leave them all, she needed to leave this fucked up life that only took, never gave, she needed to leave.
Tim wouldn’t even talk to her now, even when she desperately needed him to, he didn’t care about them, about her, about what could have been, about their potential relationship. Nothing in her life was certain anymore, there was nothing good to focus on, actually nothing really mattered anymore.
You were the last nail in my coffin, I loved you Tim, and you’ve killed me.
Lucy stares at the bottles of anti-anxiety meds that she had kept up the prescription for but had stopped taking. Her eyes shift between them, her bottle of tequila and her badge on the empty side of her bed.
Was there anything really left for her anymore, would anyone actually miss her? It’s not like a single person came to her side when she was breaking, god they didn’t even wish her happy birthday. How was she worth so little again, how did she keep doing this to herself? Was she really nothing but a stupid, pathetic, worthless woman?
She stared even longer at her pills, and well eventually the answer came to her…the tequila and the pills, they were here with her, and well Tim wasn’t, no one was.
She’d take whatever peace she could get now, and the only peace she could see is what they could bring her, a calm and quiet overdose.
Then she could just stop feeling this pain, this trauma, this worthlessness. She grabbed the bottle and sip by sip, she took pill after pill, after pill, with a tequila chaser, and once the bottle was empty, she softly lay back down on her pillows closing her eyes and waiting for the peaceful release that death could finally bring her.
She could hear a faint banging in the distance and smiled softly, that was just them putting the final nails into the lid of her coffin, soon she’d be buried, and this time she would stay that way, this time there would be no pain on the other side, this time she could stay sleeping.
“Lucy! NO!” Tim had eventually broken down the door and seen her barely alive on her bed, the empty bottle of tequila and pills next to her.
“No baby, please no!” He pulls her practically lifeless body into his arms. “Lopez! Call the fucking ambulance right now!” He screams for Angela.
“Tim?” She rushes into the room and sees the scene before her. “Oh god!” Angela feels sick before quickly calling in 911.
“Lu, please baby, don’t die, I love you! Please hang on, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry! Lucy stay awake.”
He watches as her eyes flutter open slightly.
“That’s it…stay awake baby, please.”
“Hey look, I made it to heaven.” Lucy gives a drugged-out smile.
“No baby, no, you’re still with me on earth okay, just stay awake.”
“No…I’m in heaven, that’s the only place where an angel like you could ever really love someone like me.” Lucy smiles a little before her body went limp, Tim trying desperately to revive her, feeling his world being torn apart, as her light faded away.
“Lucy please…stay with me”