A crackling Bob Marley record fills the dingy Sheffield flat as Lucy stands at the window, her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation. Behind her, Darren slumps on a threadbare sofa, licking chip grease from his fingers, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his girlfriend’s restless mind

Lucy’s journey is a harrowing descent into the depths of despair, punctuated by fleeting moments of hope that make her eventual fall all the more devastating. We first meet her as a young woman teetering on the edge, desperate for connection and purpose in a world that seems determined to grind her down. As the play unfolds over the course of a year, we witness Lucy’s frantic attempts to reinvent herself – from devoted girlfriend to expectant mother to prodigal daughter – each new identity crumbling under the weight of her circumstances and her own self-destructive tendencies. Butler’s raw, unflinching narrative hurls us into Lucy’s chaotic world with the force of a punch to the gut, his dialogue crackling with authenticity and dark humour that captures the cadence of working-class Sheffield.

Through a series of vivid, often brutal vignettes, Butler expertly weaves Lucy’s interactions with a cast of complex characters into a tapestry of broken dreams and generational trauma. We meet her well-meaning but overwhelmed sister Nikki, juggling a baby and her own fading aspirations; the volatile Dave, whose bursts of affection are as unpredictable as his violent temper; and Gonzo, the manipulative drug dealer offering chemical escapes at a devastating price. The claustrophobic council flat becomes a character in itself, with peeling wallpaper and a leaky tap serving as constant reminders of Lucy’s stagnation. As her grip on reality weakens, the boundaries between memory, fantasy, and grim reality blur, building to a gut-wrenching climax that offers no easy resolutions.