"Mom! why can't you tell me! Are you leaving dad or not?" I followed her into the kitchen, carrying some dirty dishes, "if you're lying again about leaving-"

She slammed down one of the plates she was washing in the sink making the dishwater fly everywhere. She gripped the edge of the sink with her head down, "Lucy..." I remember her voice being so soft but filled with grief, "this is hard for me too okay. It's not as simple as that."

"But it is. He's a deadbeat father, a terrible husband, and an abuser. He hurt me, mom. Isn't that enough?" I could feel my frustration building inside making me want to explode.

"If I leave your father, we have nothing Lucy!" She yelled, "you think my shitty job at the bar is paying for the bills around this place?"

"We can leave. Start over. I can get a job, even two-"

"No way. You're focusing on school and that's it. End of discussion."

"But mom-"

"End of discussion Lucy!" She threw her the soaked rubber gloves on the edge of the sink, heading upstairs.

I scoffed, "you're never going to leave him are you?" She continues walking upstairs ignoring me again, "stop walking away from me!" I screamed.

Over and over and over again, it's the same damn story. I followed her stomping up the stairs, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. I opened her bedroom door to see her changing her clothes and taking off her leftover makeup from earlier. She sat there with her same cold demeanor. I watched her the same emotionless face when she came home after the hospital, the first time he hit her. It was at that moment everything changed for us. Every day she grew colder. More dead inside.

She stared in the mirror watching herself. She dragged her fingers across her face like she was hoping to feel something. Like she was numb.

I grabbed the stool sitting next to her, "mom," I whispered, sitting next to her, "can you hear me?"

She turned her face toward me, her mouth agape, "yes," she answered, "I can hear you."

I grabbed her hand, "we can do this mom. We don't need to depend on him anymore. And besides, what about Jude? Don't you have feelings for him?"

"I do, but I still love your father too." Her speech was calm but slow.

"How could you still love him? Even after I told you what he did to me!"

"You don't understand Lucy-"

I stood up from the stool, "you're right I don't understand. You're still choosing him over me." I scoffed, "I thought you changed, but you're still the same broken woman who can't even stand up her own daughter let alone herself! You're a coward!"

It was as if the sound of thunder went off in the room. I fell to the ground feeling the welt that covered the side of my cheek. Her ring slightly cutting me. I glanced up to see my mother hovering over me. Her face completely darkening, her eyebrows furrowed, her breathing becoming heavier and heavier.

She slapped me.

I buried my face in the ground, clutching my face as my eyes began to water, "I hate you." I whispered.

I could hear her soft gasp. For a few seconds, she just stood there looking down on me. She finally left locking herself in her bathroom.

I stood up, running out of her room to the front door. It was pouring rain as I stepped outside running in any direction. I just ran and ran and ran. Not thinking about where I was going.

The rain was getting heavier and heavier, completely drenching me head to toe. It felt as if bullets struck my skin over and over again, making me wince in pain. The rain was starting to cloud my vision, making the road more and more blurry. I could hear car horns beside me warning me they were coming, "I'm sorry!" I yelled to an oncoming car telling me to get the hell out of the way.

Everything was pitch black. Nothing was open. No stores, no restaurants, nothing. I walked further along the road. Shivering and desperate for a warm cup of chocolate, I took a break, sitting at one of the empty bus stops. I felt my swollen cheek once again, reminding me of the moment.

I couldn't help but feel so much anger towards her. I wanted to run away, start over. But I couldn't help but feel this wave of guilt. I shouldn't have called my mother a coward, she's anything but that. I just couldn't help but feel as if she was picking him over me again. I glanced around to see if I could see where I was, "it looks a little familiar," I whispered. I stopped as I saw a lit building almost invisible behind the bushes.

I made my way toward the building. The strong smell of hot chocolate invaded my senses making me almost weak. I looked in the window to see if anyone was inside. No one was in sight.

"Hello!" I tapped the glass seeing if anyone could hear me, "Is anyone in there?" I said. No one answered.

I glanced inside the restaurant getting a strange sense of deja vu.

Have I been here before? My memory is getting a bit hazy. Probably from the old age.

I walked around to the front door seeing maybe if it was unlocked. And guess what? It's locked.

Getting frustrated I banged on the door hoping to get anyone's attention. Someone has to be in here right? The lights are on. No one just leaves the lights on or they're just asking for a crazy electric bill.

Finally, I saw someone come from the back, but it seemed like he had earphones in. He was also dancing like he was having a really bad acid trip. As he came closer he started to look more and more familiar.

I gasped, "I know him!" I banged on the door even harder hoping that he would hear, "Hey I know you! Please open the door!" I yelled.

He finally turned after several minutes, taking out one earphone. He came to the door, "sorry we're closed. I can't let anyone in. My boss got on me for the last homeless person inside."

Homeless! I don't look that bad. I glanced over to see my reflection in the glass.

Oh.

"No! It's me, Lucy! Please I need help!"

He squinted his eyes before realizing, "Lucy! I almost didn't recognize you. Give me a second." He went to the back grabbing some keys. He unlocked the door, "what the hell are you doing out here. It's pouring."

"It's a long story," I said, covering my swollen cheek.

"Come inside." He motioned me. I walked inside, water dripping from my clothes, drenching the floor. He observed me, watching my every move, "let's get you dry," he said in a soft tone.

He walked me to a staircase that was in the back of the restaurant, "first we need to get you out of those clothes and then if you're hungry I can make you something."

I chuckled, "And what am I supposed to wear until then? It's not like we're at your house."

"And that's where you're wrong." He opened the door at the end of the staircase. It revealed an apartment, "welcome to my home." He smiled.

"Wow, you live above your job."

"Well, it's my family's restaurant. When we bought the restaurant we found out there was an empty apartment upstairs so we bought the whole building."

Rich kid alert! Rich kid alert!

"We have to be quiet, my dad should be sleeping-"

"Sting is that you?" A deep voice came from around the corner revealing a tall man with a defined build, muscular. He stepped into the light a little more revealing his dark hair with a streak of grey. He looked up at both of us startled, "am I interrupting something?"

"No dad," Sting sighed, "Lucy this is my dad, Weisslogia."

"Umm, nice to meet you," I whispered, slightly covering myself behind Sting's body.

"Dad! Have you seen Froshe? I can't find him anywhere-" someone else walks in, startled by my appearance. He leaned over to his dad, "uhh dad there's a soaking wet lady in our living room."

Sting slapped his hand over his face shaking his head, "and this is my idiot brother Rouge."

"Speak for yourself," Rouge said.

"I'm sorry everyone I didn't mean to come here so late. I just- I mean-"

"It's ok, you don't have to explain yourself," Sting said, "my room is the second door on right down the hall. I'll meet you there."

I nodded and followed his instructions. I opened the door closing it behind me. I sat on the ground trying not to get anything else too wet. I observed his room walking around a bit, trying to find out who the real Sting is.

Paint brushes and canvas were scattered all across the room. Dried paint staring the walls, doors, and his desk. I walked over to his bed noticing the superhero covered sheets making me giggle.

That's cute.

I walked to the other side of the room and saw a pile of canvases lying on the ground. Being the nosy person I am of course I looked at them and most were pictures of different fruits, objects, and people.

"Well, this is boring," I whispered. As I stood up I tripped on one of the empty canvases. I grabbed my foot, cursing in the air. I peeked my head up slightly and saw a huge canvas covered with a cloth. Peeking out was what looked like the side of a woman's face. I grabbed the cloth gently taking it off the canvas, I dropped the cloth mesmerized what was underneath, "wow."

That's all I could say. Wow.

Even not being able to see in the color, I can see the beauty in this.

It was a woman. Probably in her later forties. She had a soft expression, a loving one. The soft smile made me feel warm and safe. She had long wavy hair that the canvas wasn't even big enough to capture all it. She was beautiful.

"So how long is your girlfriend staying?" Weisslogia said, winking and nudging Sting.

I covered the painting back up with the large cloth. I gently opened the door leaving a small crack to watch the three of them.

"She's not my girlfriend dad!" Sting said, his voice getting slightly higher.

"Oof his voice just went higher. He's getting all flustered," Rouge teased.

"No, it's not!" He yelled, his voice getting even higher.

His dad let out a hearty laugh, "it's alright son. We're just messing with you. So what happened? Did she tell you anything?"

"No, not yet." He scratched the back his head, " she was just outside in the rain."

"Hmm." He scratched his beard, "get her anything she needs. Then I'll call her parents in the morning."

Sting nodded, "alright."

He started walking down the hall making me panic.

Alright! Act normal!

I laid flat on the ground, my face buried in the carpet.

What the hell am I doing!?

I sat up sitting up against the side of the bed. He walked in holding some clothes and a few towels, "I think I may have a change of clothes for you."

He handed them to me, "thanks." It was a pair of satin pajamas. They felt so soft and smooth.

"I'll let you change. Let me know when you're finished and I'll get some hot chocolate going." He closed the door behind him leaving me with my thoughts.

I stared in the mirror putting them on. I took off my shirt revealing my soaked wound. I winced taking off the bandages revealing the infected wound. It was sore to the touch and swollen, "this should've healed some by now."

It was worse than before.

I looked through Sting's things hoping to find some type of bandages and lo and behold there were some in his top dresser drawer.

I slowly started wrapping the bandage around the wound trying to be as careful as possible. When I finished I looked back in the mirror satisfied with my work. I walked closer to the mirror observing my cheek. I hovered my fingers over the small scratch just below my eye. I shook my head trying not to reminisce. I headed downstairs to see Sting and his brother Rouge talking."So she's the girl from the art show?" Rouge asked sipping some hot chocolate, "I wonder why she was out so late and in the rain."

"Yeah. Trust me I'm just as surprised as you are to see her. That night when I saw her at the art gallery I saw a sad smile but she still had this light in her, But tonight when I saw her it was something totally different. She was scared of something or maybe someone."

"Maybe she was running away from someone."

"Yeah maybe. What if it's her parents or something? If it was then I can't let dad call them tomorrow."

"Well, nows your chance to find out." I saw Rouge turn to me standing around the corner in the hall.
That gave me the worse chills.

How the hell did he even know I was there? His back was turned!

"I saw a shadow in the corner of my eye if you're wondering." He sipped his hot chocolate with a smirk plastered on his face.

Wow, now he's a mind reader too.

"Well, I'll leave you two be. Goodnight." Rouge left the room leaving only me and Sting, I sat down in one of the chairs, "I see the clothes fit perfectly. Not that I'm staring or anything at your body- I mean not that you have an ugly body or anything- I mean-"

I giggled, "it's ok, I understand what you mean."

He chuckled, "Okay good." He poured me some hot chocolate making me already feel warmer, "so why were you out there tonight?"

I stared down at my cup, watching as the marshmallows melted, blending in with the hot chocolate. I could feel him staring, observing me, waiting for a legitimate answer.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'm not trying to push you or anything-" he stopped. He watched as the small tears landed inside the cup of perfectly good hot chocolate. He sat down across from me laying his hand on mine, gently rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand. He didn't say a word the whole time I cried, it was like he knew what to do, like he's done this a thousand times.

I wiped my eyes with my free hand, "I'm sorry." I whispered, "I hate crying. I feel like such a baby. It's just that me and my mom got into it. I said something I shouldn't have." it felt as if the tears came down faster, "I-I called her a coward. I said I hated her... the last thing I said to my mother was I hate her. What if something happened to her and I can't take back what I said."

"Don't say that." I felt him squeeze my hand, "please don't say that. You still have time to tell your mom. There are some people out there who would kill for that chance." I glanced back up at him. His eyes started to become glossy and his lip quivered, "I understand what you're going through, but you have the chance to tell her how you feel."

I started putting together what he was talking about, "I'm so sorry Sting."

He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, "It was such a dumb fight. I can't even remember what it was about. The last thing I told her was I hated her and that was the last time I saw her."

I stood up sitting on the chair next to him. I laid my head on his shoulder holding his hand in mine, "thank you." I whispered.

A small smile peaked in the corner of his mouth. He squeezed my hand gently reassuring me, "you can take my room tonight. I'll sleep on the couch." He stood up putting his cup of hot chocolate in the sink.

"If you don't mind, can I stay out here with you?" I asked.

You may be thinking Lucy stop it you just met this man! Do you like getting serious with strangers?!

But it's different. He gives me a feeling that only one other person has given me.

"Sure. We can watch some movies if you want?"

I smiled, "that sounds nice."

It was the middle of the third black and white film we were watching and I could barely keep my eyes open. These films are considered the best but I couldn't get through any of the plots. I was laying on the could with a fluffy blanket Sting laid out for me and he was on the ground below me with just a simple blanket and pillow.

I feel bad now.

"If you want we can switch places. I don't mind sleeping on the ground." I said.

"No way, I'm good. Besides, this is where I get my best sleep."

I laughed, "fine, you win."

"If you're not watching the movie can I turn it off? I'm completely beat."

"Yeah. I-I'm totally beat too. Beater than beat actually."

Why would I say that?!

"Cool." He switched the tv off leaving the room pitch black, "goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Thirty minutes went by and I was still tossing and turning trying to find a comfortable position to sleep on but to no avail.

I was still wide awake.

"Hey Sting?" I whispered, "are you still awake?"

He groaned, "I am now."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'll go to sleep now." I turned over whispering to myself, "stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" I whispered over and over again.

He laughed, "it's ok. There's obviously something bothering you. Go ahead and talk to me."

I turned back over to see him staring at me with a smile that reminds me of someone else. I turned back around flustered, "well I wanted to ask about the painting in your room. The one that's covered."

"Oh, what about it?"

"Is that your mom?"

He didn't answer back immediately. I heard him let out a deep sigh, "yes. That painting was private y'know. Hence why the cloth was covering it."

"I know I'm sorry. I was just curious-"

"It's alright, it's alright." He stood up sitting on the couch next to me, "I painted it two months after she passed. My art teacher told me to paint something deep inside me, my greatest pain. And that's when I got the idea to paint her." He sighed, "it was meant for an art show a couple of years ago but I never could submit it."

"It's a beautiful painting Sting. It could see her soul through her smile. She's beautiful."

He cleared his throat, "so what did you and your mother fight about?" He said, quickly changing the subject.

"Oof we're coming out with the big questions huh."

"Hey, you started it." He laughed.

I laughed, "I guess I did. Well, we were arguing about my deadbeat abusive father. I asked my mother if she was finally going to leave him and one thing led to another she hit me." I revealed the side of my face with the little cut underneath my eye.

He sat closer trying to get a better look at my cheek, "she hit you?" He cupped the side of my face gently, caressing my swollen cheek, "I'm not hurting you am I?" He whispered.

I was so flustered I could barely get a word out.

"N-No." His hands were so warm making me feel even more safe with him.

He kept staring at me with those eyes making me want to close this gap in between us. He leaned forward making me smell his left over cologne. I couldn't put my finger on it but it had a minty smell to it and oh boy did it drive me crazy. I felt his hand grip my thigh as he came closer and closer. Our lips brushed against each other's until finally we closed the gap between us.

My second kiss.

It was different from the first, but it gave me the same feeling.

Love.

I gently pushed him away from me, "stop," I whispered.

He caught his breath, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't apologize. It's not that I didn't want to, it's just complicated."

He touched his forehead with mine, "I've never been this crazy over a girl before. It's something about you Lucy."

Where have I heard that before?

I cupped his face in my hands, giving him a soft kiss on his forehead, "Goodnight Sting."

He smiled, going back to his self made bed on the ground.

I pulled the covers trying to get into a comfortable position.

This damn couch is going to be the end of me! Maybe I need another pillow to balance this out.

"Hey Sting, do you have another-" I gasped.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I've only ever seen this on one other person.

His hair had color.