Lucy sat back on the cold, musky cushions that lay behind her. She glanced around her new surroundings, the room was freezing, dark and had a lingering smell of smoke which had been absorbed by the pile of old, discolored newspapers that sat drearily in a damp corner of the room. The main focal point was a small, rather unhappy looking window facing into the darkness of the night. Lucy was now staring at a beam of crisp, silver light that hit the dusty floorboards. The beam danced and shimmered in time with the singing and swaying trees that cowered over and rapped at the window. Apart from this the loudest noise the filled the room was the firm and steady beating of Lucy's heart and the incessant process of breathing in and out, each time filling the room with a cloud of icy and passionless breath.
To most this would seem a most unhappy setting but to Lucy this was a much-invited change from the atmosphere of her home. She had previously been living with her mother and younger brother, Steven, in a rather small house, that was more of a cottage in the countryside that surrounded Nottingham. It was pretty house in a gorgeous setting with fields and fields of flowers that supplied the family business in the center of Nottingham. When Lucy was young these fields were her kingdom and the cottage was her castle. She had the fairytale childhood with the average, perfect loving family and Lucy was a girl that could brighten up any room with her imagination and wild stories. This fairytale however, ended with the death of her father when Lucy was 15 years old. This destroyed what was left of her perfect family. Her mother became depressed and turned to drinking to cope with the loss, her brother became dominant and moody and on many occasions lashed out and hit Lucy in rage. Unable to cope with the destruction that was happening around her, Lucy became subdued and quiet. She refused to speak to anyone for months after her father's death and instead of entertaining those around her with her amazing talent for writing and producing the most wonderful of stories, she put all her concentration and time into her school work.
