Lucille held the chain whip, letting its weight settle against her right palm. The sharp metal glimmered under the morning light.
Watching Hazel and Regina with their weapons stirred Lucille's memories, the ones she had kept tucked away for a long time.
Memories from the earliest, ugliest first year of the apocalypse. The long time before she had awakened her ability, or learned how to survive without relying completely on her father.
Then, her father's voice rose in her mind.
"Lucy, don't worry about being strong. Worry about staying alive."
In those chaotic first few months, her father had drilled those words into her over and over. He had always been calm, a man with a steady smile, even when the world collapsed around them.
Her father knew too well what could happen to powerless women, one like her who had no special ability.
