The two of you had no choice but to hole up in a run down house as a rad storm hounds you from a far, lurking like a predator ready to strike. The house was in near ruins, although the shelter it provided compared to the torn through homes that neighbored it was far more preferable. You kicked down the door, as sand had pillowed up from behind, causing the hinges to creak and nearly tear off. You shut the door behind you as you enter the once warm home. In front of you, Lucy had seemly gotten distracted by the crooked and broken pictures hung upon the walls of ripping wallpaper. Each one had a crack spindling through it like a spider web, and yet, to Lucy, they were perfect. Each depicted a sense of warmth, a child with a dog here, a newly wedded couple there, a cat next to a dog. This place had once been a happy home, and Lucy almost longed for it to be once more. Her fingers drift on the shattered glass frames as you mosey your way down to the dining room. She hears the creak of the chairs, worn down by age, as you settle yourself, tossing each irradiated leg onto the sand dusted table. Then as a relative silence passes over the two of them, thunder booms and Lucy jumps. She swallows down saliva, her throat dry from the lack of water, and forces herself to continue exploring. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight.

She explores the place, because why wouldn't she? No one was here to stop her. She carefully heads up the stairs, avoiding nails and cracks like they were the plague. And most likely, they were. Her nails drift along the wood of the banister, the drywall next to her until she reaches the landing. Each room had been frozen in time, she comes to notice. A child's room with peeling carpeted floors and poorly done drawings and scattered toys and clothes made it seem like the child was to come back and occupy the room once more. She lets herself stand in the door way, her lips twitching into a deep frown. Boom goes more thunder, lightning bright like a star. Lucy leaves the room, her heart heavy. The next room, larger, neat, other than the mini sandstorm that covered the floor. The bed, mattress full of exposed springs and torn fabric, held two souls forever intertwined. Their skeletons forever holding each other. In the light of the lightning strikes, the two jewels shine on now dull golden bands, hanging off of dead fingers. Quietly, to not wake the dead, she enters further. Lucy's footsteps were lighter than a mouse, and they led her to the closest. She opens the door to it, and was met by hangers than held blazers and dresses mixed in. Her eyes drift to the chest that hide under the fabrics, and she kneels to open it. Inside, a yellowed lace wedding dress laid, perfect dainty lace gloves sat in it'sap, folded neatly and perfectly. Beside it, and equally yellow suit sat, and in its lap a top hat with a withered flower. She drags her finger along the wedding dress, and her mind doesn't catch up with her until she feels the lace fabric around her waist, lace around her arms, blue and yellow laying in front of her.

It was a size to big, yet somehow, it felt good. Good to be in a wedding dress, despite a wedding dress being what she was in when her life was flipped. She zips the thing up to the best of her abilities, as the zipper as busted and couldn't finish its journey up. She placed with the gloves absent mindly, her feet moving without her recognition. Whatever leech was inside her head told her to go further, deeper into the house to met you. And she does. Her steps were light and airy, and you couldnt hear her, couldnt see her, until she stood in the doorway in front of you. Her deep eyes had dark crescent under them. It made her look like a withering rose in the middle of winter. He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me–. Did you? Love her? Maybe. Maybe you loved the way she looked like a dying flower now. She didn't know. She knew that she liked looking pretty. She didn't truly feel pretty anymore, up here.

But now she did, in her stolen wedding dress. No dead could steal her beauty tonight.