Better off Dead A Lucy Hart, Deathdealer - By Eva Sloan Page 0,16

gooped polo shirt off over her head, and holding it out in front of her for a moment of contemplation, she pressed her foot down on the pedal of the small, lidded trashcan and tossed the thing in, letting the metal lid drop with an emancipating clang.

She kicked off the Dr Schooll’s and then stripped off the black slacks, and her under-things. She crawled into the shower and let the hot water cascade over her sore, tired body. It felt better than good. Lucy couldn’t remember the last time she’d just stood under the rejuvenating hot spray of a shower, with no time constraint. Usually someone was knocking on the door, telling her to hurry up. Or she was dashing around, trying to make her bus, so she could get to work on time.

But as she stood under that water now, a thought started materializing in her mind, like mist turning to a blazing neon sign—a huge, blinking Times Square sized sign. Lucy could practically hear the low, deep buzz that sign emitted every time it crackled to life.

And it read: I QUIT!

I quit...

The thought just echoed in her mind, the thought turning from a mere whisper to the chant of a Super Bowl stadium crowd.

“I quit,” The words passed her lips, and then her eyes snapped open with surprise. “I quit!” Those words seemed to shimmer like silver, and then sparkle and shine like a really good, really expensive diamond. The kind she’d hinted about to her father for a graduation present. In her mind, Lucy could see that diamond hanging on a sleek platinum chain, twinkling like a star against her skin. Not her skin now, but the radiant, creamy flesh she used to have.

And the diamond’s fiery gleam pulsed with the two words that throbbed in her head.

I quit...I quit...I quit...

The weight that had been on her shoulders for the last six months, the pressure that had almost snuffed her out completely only a few hours ago, lifted like...like magic. Lucy breathed in the sweet, warm air of the shower. She raised her hot-water-soothed arms up in the air as she took another, and then another deep, wondrous breath. Lucy screamed—screamed long and loud, a joyous, powerful scream. And then she felt the corner of her mouth catch in an unfamiliar twinge.

She was smiling.

She was also thinking. Thinking very hard and very fast. She turned and grabbed the shampoo bottle from the rack and started lathering her hair in earnest. The faster she thought, the easier those thoughts seemed to weave together, thoughts latching onto other thoughts, memories of seemingly incidental snippets of information entwining with her long abandoned hopes and dreams.

If she wanted her old life back, then she’d have to take it back herself.

All of this spun itself into a plan. And the plan, if she did say so herself, was pretty damn good.

Chapter 4

LUCY’S HAIR was still wet, and though she was dressed in a cheap T-shirt and a pair of sweats, she felt like a million bucks. She’d washed and scrubbed herself until not a trace of McDonalds—or its special sauce—was on her. Also the hot water finally ran cold.

She’d gone into her mother’s room and riffled through her drawers until she found what she was looking for: a business card.

Gram was at church, but she’d left her presents neatly stacked on the kitchen table, right next to her birthday cake. A spotless glass dome sat atop the pedestal holding the cake.

A piece of paper had her grandmother’s handwriting on it.

Lucybean,

Called you off from work today.

Rest!

Love, Gram

Cool…I can QUIT tomorrow.

She was suddenly starved. Her stomach growled as memories of her grandmother’s divine cake floated through her mind. So she fetched a plate, a knife and a fork, then hacked herself off a very large piece of cake. Even the next day the thing smelled like heaven, and as she took a bite it tasted just as good...no, better than it had the night before. Now it tasted like freedom. Now it tasted like having her old life back, and getting back her dreams.

Having money again. Regaining her dimmed yet still abundant beauty. And going to a good university, and from there having the life she’d always envisioned for herself. To own her own multimillion dollar cosmetics line. Maybe even branch out to movies, music and TV. She, Lucy Hart, would be queen of her own, huge, fabulous world.

The image of her in a gorgeous Dior gown, on the arm of some handsome A-List