She ran through the apartment house cleaning up every speck of dust and making sure everything was in its place. She was drenched in a cold sweat. He was coming home. Her name was Lucy. She was only 18 but was wiser then those much older then she. Her hair was straight, chin length, black hair and her eyes were a puddle of colors like a cat's eye. She was deathly pale with dark, pink lips. She was thin yet with strength in her arms and legs. She worked in an old coffee house were struggling poets read their greatest works on the creaking, dusty stage. That's where she met him, Trent. She was on break and decided to grab a seat in the back to watch the poets perform. After an hour of sappy love poets the dark and truthful one took his place in the dim spotlight. His head was covered in a black hood. His face was covered in it's shadow. She looked in awe at the gloomy figure. He cleared his throat and began. Lucy couldn't help but be memorized was the low, moaning voice of the poet. With the last spoken stanza he took off his hood to reveal a pale face like her's with wild black hair. If there was a such a thing as love at first sight then that was it. Lucy finished off the last of her coffee and got back to work. She shoved the image of the poet's face in the back of her mind. Little did she know it was one she would continue to see.
It began as a friendship. He would come to the coffeehouse to read or perform with bands that needed a temory keyboardist and when Lucy served him coffee they'd have spats of converstion. Eventually it got to the point they started to hang outside the coffee shop. After a sturdy friendship of three years Lucy and Trent started to date. It was a great relationship at first but the sad truth of love is that something so pure can be tainted so easily. Trent had a tough life and Lucy's love wasn't enough to counter the aching heart inside so he turned to drugs and it's been hell for Lucy since then. He'd come home high as a kite cursing at her until he was so enraged he hit her. Yet Lucy took the pain and stayed. She hopped that tomorrow it'd be a better day. It would take a miracle to stop Trent from his violent outbursts and for them to sew what love that remained back together.
Lucy sat down on the lumpy couch, over-joyed for completing the housework. She was thinking about how happy Trent would be coming back from rehab to a clean house. Lucy imagined how healthy and happy he'd look and all the pleasant things they'd do. She had so many hopes ready to be crushed the monet Trent would walk through their front door. Lucy quickly took a shower and got her best dress on. She set up the table for dinner and left some of their favorite movies they would watch later. Lucy sat at the table watching the front door. After an hour she was ready to go to bed when the door creaked open. She stood up. A suitcase hit the floor with a loud thud. Lucy went to see who had opened the door. It was Trent, looking the way he did the first night she saw him except he looked like a skeleton with healing scars on his arms, dressed in a babby trench coat. Lucy hesitated to embrace him. For a moment everything was dead until Trent wrapped his lanky arms around Lucy and buried his face into her shoulder. Lucy reached her arm up a little to stroke his head. He closed the door.