Warning: This chapter contains physical/mental abuse, implied self-loathing, and more.
Author's Note: Thanks for the lovely reviews on the last chapter; they really motivated me to get this one written and posted. Hope it's as decent as the other two. Enjoy, I hope.
Chapter Three
The very next morning, once a doctor has finally cleared Lorna for discharge, she finds herself being forced into her friend's car. Her head leans emotionlessly against the window as the car rumbles to life. Staying a night in the hospital left a lurking pain in her chest. It's not something she'd like to experience again. Not after the poignant memories it carries with it, she knows.
"Lorna? You okay? Haven't heard a word from ya since last night," Alex softly questions, glancing over briefly with a concern heavily taking up the expression on her face. Her free hand she reaches over to gently cover her friend's with. "I'm taking you back to see Nicky…ya really need to talk to her and let yourself feel again, ya know?"
Shrugging, the shorter woman only hides further between the window and her knees. The emptiness seems to be further setting in. Her drive to keep going is rearing close to nothing at this point. She feels like someone came and sucked the life right out of her. All that's left is a shell—a very frail shell that barely keeps her surviving.
The two sit in silence for the duration of the drive. Alex only gives occasional—uneasy—glances when hitting a red-light. Once they pull into the parking lot and the car stops in one of the spots, Lorna submissively drags herself out and follows behind her taller friend into the familiar building. She solemnly sits in one of the waiting room chairs, her eyes focused on the floor beneath her.
She doesn't even notice her name's being called until a gentle hand taps her on the shoulder. Her body quickly stiffens at the touch; she jumps up from where she's sitting and realizes it's the redhead therapist who's standing in front of her.
"Sorry—didn't mean to scare ya," Nicky says, looking her over with worry. She quietly leads her back to her office, watching carefully as the petite woman sinks herself into one of the chairs across from her desk. As she sits in her own chair, she grabs her half-filled mug and takes a sip. "Would ya like some coffee or anything? Got a Keurig right over there," her voice warmly offers, pointing to a table that sits on the other side of the room.
"Uh, um, what kind ya got?"
A kind smile warms the redhead's face. She peers across into Lorna's brown eyes, a warmth radiating from her own. "There's a couple a those Maxwell House k-cups sitting in the drawer—I'm a cheap and easy kinda coffee drinker," she chuckles.
Lorna gives a very faint smile in return, "That's actually the kind me and Vinny always buy. It's gotta real nice taste."
That smile, no matter how small, takes Nicky's breath away for a whole sixty seconds. Quickly, she forces herself back into her professional role as the therapist and points over at the machine. "It does, yeah? Feel free to make yourself a cup, you're allowed. Honestly, I think it's less stressful chatting over coffee than to sit here in silence."
The brunette nods slowly and timidly stands up from her chair—walking cautiously over to make herself a cup of her most-favored beverage. Once it's brewed into the small plastic cup – one that resembles a cup from a coffee shop or fast food joint – she makes her way back to sit down. She carefully brings it to her lips for a sip, the sweet taste almost enough to make her smile again.
"I didn't know they had coffee-makers like that," she quietly mutters, her eyes wide with curiosity.
Nicky arches an eyebrow suspiciously, "Keurig's? Those been around for years now, kid. How have ya not seen one before?"
Lorna takes another sip of the coffee and shrugs. Money has always been an issue with her family and has proved to be a strong one between she and her boyfriend. The fact that he won't let her have a job is a big contributor, she knows, and hates that she can't change it. "I don't go to the store much, I guess. We got the old-fashioned coffee pot and ya know, it does its job. I don't mind."
The redhead nods and looks her over with a more serious expression. She sets her cup on her desk and rummages through one of the drawers, taking out a notebook and pen. Her eyes avert back over to Lorna, concern taking up her entire face. "We need to talk about your living arrangement, Lorna. It's not healthy in the least," she firmly starts off.
"No. There's nothing to discuss," the brunette defensively responds, folding her arms irritatingly over her chest. She knew coming back here was a bad idea and loathes that she let Alex talk her into agreeing once again.
"That's a lie and you know it. Alex and I were there—we saw the way he talks about you…like you're his object that he can do whatever he pleases with. And look where that's got ya, kid—you're barely the weight of a healthy human being and can hardly—"
Lorna slams her foot against the ground, standing up fiercely. Her brown eyes glare across into the therapist's. "Don't try to pretend that ya know shit about my life! And stop acting like ya care—ya only listen because you're being paid to and don't try to say that's wrong. It's true, you get paid to listen to sob stories and get to go about your day like nothing happened! Well, I'm not saying anything else to you. I don't need your help—it's pointless," she yells, her hands balling at her sides.
The older woman calmly watches the outburst with shock and bemusement. She's not sure whether to consider this progress or a breaking-point. Her eyes are compassionate as ever as they gaze up at her raving patient. "I'm glad you're sharing how ya feel about this with me, kid. That's a step in the right direction. Now, please, come back and sit down. I'm not letting you leave until ya talk to me."
"Did ya not hear a thing I said? I'm done—this is a big scam and I don't want any damn part of it," she seethes, walking nearer the exit.
Nicky takes this time to get up from her own seat and frisk her way over, half-blocking the door. "I heard everything ya said, Lorna, and that couldn't be further from the truth. What would ever make ya think that shit? I care so deeply about all of my patients and every damn thing they've gone through—only an asshole would do this job solely for the money! I'd still do this even if I made nothing; I want to help these people. Don't just assume things without the facts," she fiercely responds.
"Isn't that what you're doing? You assume my boyfriend's a bad person when ya don't know shit about him or our relationship," Lorna bites back, glancing anywhere but at the redhead.
Massaging her temples, Nicky sighs and softens her features. "What am I supposed to assume when he clearly tried to force ya to break off your friendship with Alex, huh? What kind of boyfriend would do that?"
"That's not true," the shorter woman exasperates.
Nicky crosses her arms over her chest, giving a hardened stare towards her patient. "Lorna, we heard him say that. Stop covering up for him. That's not gonna help ya," she firmly assures, looking her over with a creasing forehead. This is certainly not going to be an easy person to work with, she sees.
The other rolls her eyes, "I don't want help. I don't need it. Let me leave."
"Kid, if ya really didn't want the help you wouldn't come. You do want it—you're just afraid to admit that. Saying that you don't need it isn't going to make that true. You can think that all ya want but I promise you that's only going to hurt ya more. Look, I get that it's difficult to talk about whatever's happened but bottling it all up is not the solution. You need to try harder to open up, honestly. In fact, that's your homework for the week. If talking to me right now is too painful then at least try to talk to Alex about what's going on. Can ya promise you'll give that a try?"
Twirling her finger slowly around a strand of hair, the younger woman lets out a defeated breath of air and gives a small nod.
Nicky sighs, reaching over to gently pat the other's hand. She stares at her with big empathetic eyes, hoping to convince the young girl – somehow – that she sincerely cares and wants to help her. "Good. I'll see ya in a few days then. Take care kid, I mean it. Ya got a sweet soul, ya shouldn't have to put up with anything that terrifies you."
Sitting in the living room, having a cigarette, Poussey jumps at the sound of the door shutting close. She turns her head towards the archway into the kitchen, noticing the murkiness that resides within her girlfriend's tall stance. Concern quickly creeps to the surface. She walks briskly to where the other woman stands and stares up at her with growing worry.
"Why ya look so sad, huh?"
The black-haired woman sighs and shakes her head. It irks her beyond belief that her best friend still refuses to move out of that place—that she willingly crawls back to a man who wouldn't know what love is if it hit him in the face. She covers her face in her hands for a brief moment and then gazes back at her girlfriend. "I don't know how the fuck to help my friend," she mutters, punching a fist against one of the countertops.
Poussey places a comforting hand over Alex's and takes out a cigarette from her jean pocket with her other hand. "Take this—it's better than breaking your knuckles," she suggests, passing it over to the other. She lets out a sigh, slightly shrugging her shoulders. "I thought ya got her to go to Nicky for therapy? What else is there to do?"
"Thanks," the taller woman half-smiles, gratefully taking the smoke and lighting it with one of the many lighters that make up their kitchen. "It's not that simple. I'm pretty sure she's finally hit rock-bottom—Nicky and I had to take her to a hospital last night because of how skinny she's gotten…she can barely stand up from how malnourished she is, and she thinks she's fucking fat! Her boyfriend's a fucking scumbag who isn't doing shit to help her—it's fucking nauseating."
"Well, shit—that's a truckload to deal with. That's why I never dated men; the majority of them are assholes. Why doesn't she just leave him?"
Taking a drag of her cigarette, Alex's eyes darken with fury. Her teeth grit angrily. "Probably because that piece of shit Vinny is putting shit in her head. He's the scum of the earth, I know that much."
"Or maybe you're just analyzing this all wrong? I don't know. I don't know what I can say to help ya," the darker-toned woman responds, bringing her cig to her lips and inhaling a large breath of air.
Alex immediately shakes her head. "Oh, no, I'm right. He's controlling her—every part of her life. He tried to convince her to stop being my friend, and she almost went through with it. She's submissive and too gentle…and that fucker takes advantage of her for it."
Pulling the other closer, Poussey wraps her arms tight around her waist in a comforting hug. Her lips stroke affectionately over the slightly taller woman's. She uses one of her hands to brush sparse strands of hair from her eyes and gazes compassionately into them, "I'm sorry; I'm sure it's hard to watch a best friend go through so much pain but I bet Nicky will be able to get through to her. Nicky's great at what she does, yeah? Now, I say we go rest a little—it looks like ya been up all night worrying for her." Her voice tender and warm as she gives another soft kiss to the other's lips before lovingly leading her to their bedroom.
The second Lorna enters her apartment, she regrets her decision. She hates herself for not listening to her best friend. But then the thought of burdening her comes through and instantly washes away any regret. It's better this way, she thinks. At least she doesn't have to worry about inconveniencing anyone. She sighs, walking into the kitchen and making her way through the hallway to her bedroom.
Aggressive arms grab onto her from behind, pulling her back towards the living room. She feels herself being thrown down to the floor and cries out in pain. Her eyes gaze tearfully up at the man she once dreamt of a life with—now glazed in fear and terror to be around him. "Wha-what was that for?" She shakily questions, towering away from him.
"What do ya think? For fucking letting your stupid friend talk to me the way she did and then letting her drag ya off—what the hell, Lorna? I thought I told ya that I'm the only one who loves you," Vinny growls, pulling her back towards him and pinning her against the hardwood floor. He glares darkly down at her, scraping his nails roughly along her pale cheeks.
"Please just-just leave me alone," the small woman mumbles, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to crawl in her bed and sleep away the pain. She tries to move away from him but that only fuels his anger.
Shaking his head, Vinny smacks her hard across the face and holds her down with a strong amount of force. His teeth grit together in fury while his brown orbs pierce heavily down into hers. "I'm your boyfriend, Lorna, and I'll do whatever the hell I please. After what ya did yesterday, it's only fair. Ya think that little friend a yours is gonna do shit to help you? Think she really gives a damn about ya? The answer is no. No one cares about you except for me. So, I think it's about time you forget about the rest of the world and start doing what I fucking tell ya," he growls, saliva running down his face and landing on the brunette.
"But-but-but—"
"But nothing! She doesn't want nothing to do with you, Lorna. Told me herself," he smirks, digging his nails gruffly into her shoulders. He stands up, picking her up off the floor, and drags her into the spare room where their exercise equipment is stored. A chuckle escapes as he forces her onto the treadmill and turns it on full-blast. "Get running, fatty. Looks like ya snuck some food while you were gone, and we can't have that!"
Lorna holds on tight to the side-rails of the machine, already panting from the intensity of the run. Tears leak from her eyes; she turns her head to look at him, a pleading gleam shining through. "I—I can-can't…please – turn – it – down," her voice breathlessly begs.
The Italian man shakes his head, walking over to a cabinet that sits at the back of the room. He quickly digs through it until he comes across what he needs, snatching it briskly, and goes back to his girlfriend. Roughly, he rips two large pieces of the duck-tape from the roll and places them over each of her hands to ensure that she can't escape.
"No can do. This will teach you not to disobey me again—I'll come check on you in an hour. Try and lose some weight," he smirks, slapping her on the behind before exiting the room and locking the door shut.
It's nearing eight in the evening when Nicky and her two housemates find themselves sitting in a bar, surrounded by a mountain of empty beer bottles. She can't help but feel the weight of her day wither away from all the alcohol she drowned herself in. Sure, it's not the healthiest decision but it's better than shooting herself up with heroin. And it's not like she's the only one to do that. She watched Alex down at least five or six beers of her own—understandable, she notes, due to all the stress of watching her best friend deteriorate and not have the power to stop it.
"Just what the doctor ordered," she chuckles when another round is brought to their table. Her hands immediately reach for a fresh bottle, bringing it to her lips for a large swig.
Poussey, sitting between the two women, shakes her head. She looks at them with concern—it's not that she doesn't approve of their choices, it's that she doesn't like the idea of the two people she cares about drowning their problems with alcohol the way they did. One or two, even three beers, she can understand but a whole case each? That's just overkill, she knows.
"I'm starting to think you two may need therapy—y'all damn well probably wiped this bar outta beers," her tone joking, but on the inside she's serious.
The other women share a laugh and mindlessly pick at the basket of chips in the middle of the table. Alex places her free hand gently on her girlfriend's thigh under the table while staring over at her with a not-so-convincing smile. "Just something that was needed tonight is all—don't worry about it. I mean come on, Poussey, you smoke what—a pack of cigarettes a day, how is that any different than drinking a pack of beer?"
"And besides it's not like we're alcoholics or nothin'. Sometimes a night out drinking is the best solution—not like we drink this many beers every day," Nicky adds, slurping down the rest of her drink.
Shrugging her shoulders, the dark-skinned woman lets out a sigh. She sips on her soda and gives them both a stern stare. "I just hope ya know I ain't gonna be the one cleaning up your vomit tonight when all these beers finally catch up to ya. Y'all are on your own with that," she smirks, taking a chip for herself.
"Aw come on—what about Alex? Ya ain't gonna take care a your girlfriend?" Nicky slurs out her question, a playful edge to her voice.
The tallest woman of the three nods and turns to stare at her girlfriend, batting her eyes innocently up at her. "At least hold my hair back for me, would ya? Ya know I'd do the same for you, P."
Rolling her eyes jokingly, Poussey snakes an arm around her shoulder and kisses her tenderly on the head. "You're lucky ya got such pretty eyes or you'd be shit outta luck!"
By the time Friday rolls around, worry starts to set back in for Alex when she hasn't heard from her friend in over two days. Once her work-shift ends, she decides to rush down to her housemate's therapy practice. She rapidly enters the building, jumping on the nearest elevator, and jogging down the hall towards Nicky's office. Hurriedly, she opens the door and finds the redhead in the midst of writing up some report or another.
"Alex? What're ya doing here?" The shorter woman inquiries, glancing up from her paperwork with concern written all over her face.
Sighing, the black-haired woman slightly shrugs. She honestly has no clue what coming here would do for her—it's not like she could trust Lorna to come here by herself, she knows. "I—I'm just worried about Lorna…we haven't talked since the other day. Did she come by here at all? I know she was supposed to come for an appointment this morning?"
Nicky smacks her hands over her mouth, gasping out a breath of air. She quickly grabs her calendar from underneath the paperwork and looks for the patients scheduled for today. Her eyes glance back up at her friend, empathy seeping through as she shakes her head sadly. "She was supposed to come at nine…never showed—I'm sorry, kid. I don't think she's purposefully doing this…something's not right, I know that much," she softly responds, motioning for the other to come have a seat.
"I know she's not doing this on purpose—it's her asshole boyfriend, he's fucking controlling! What did she say to ya the last time she was here? Anything that could help us figure out what's going on?"
Reaching over the table, Nicky softly grabs the other's hands and holds them comfortingly in her own. "Anger isn't going to change the situation, Alex," she gently informs, caressing her thumbs tenderly over her knuckles. A sigh escapes her. "She still didn't open much—though we did have a nice little chat about coffee for the first few minutes. So sweet the poor girl is…it's a shame she's so afraid of letting herself get the help she needs."
Alex exhales a deep breath and shakes her head furiously. "Her sweetness is what got her into this mess—fucking Vinny takes advantage of it every chance he gets."
The redhead continues the soothing motion, staring compassionately across at her. "Ya know, maybe we should call the cops or something? I mean technically I'm required to if there's abuse going on. I know that's gonna make things more complicated for her but fuck—she shouldn't be living in that kinda situation anyway!"
"No, that's actually a brilliant idea. Then Lorna will have no choice but to realize she needs to let us help her. Do it—call them now, I wanna be here for it," the dark-haired woman states with a smirk, watching closely as the other reaches to grab her phone.
Lorna's eyes groggily open. A dazed sensation courses through her body; her surroundings are blurry as she tries to make out where exactly she is. There's a slight pinch in her hand, she notices, and a faint beeping sound that seems to be coming from behind her. A deep pain sits in her abdomen, she has to bite her tongue to stop herself from screaming. Her vision slowly clears up and when she realizes where she's at, horrification rips through her.
A door slowly creaks open, revealing a nurse who cautiously enters with a cart full of equipment to test vitals with. "Good afternoon, Lorna, it's nice to see you're finally awake," the woman soothingly says, a slight Spanish accent to her voice. She gently wheels the cart to the side of the young girl's bed and takes out a blood-pressure cuff that she gently places over her arm.
"Wha-what's going on? Why, why am I here and why does my stomach hurt so much?"
The nurse stares down at her with empathy in her brown eyes. Once the blood pressure is taken, she records it on the computer and removes it from Lorna's arm. She sighs, giving a comforting pat to her forehead. "You've had a major operation, Lorna. You've been in here for a few days now, do ya not remember any of it?"
Lorna's eyes widen in fear. She arches her eyebrows in confusion and worry. "What-what kinda operation? The last thing I remember is running on the treadmill. Where's Vinny?"
"I'm not sure of everything as today is my first day assigned to your care. But what I've been told is that you passed out and Vinny, I assume, rushed you here. They performed x-rays, CT scans, and MRIs, which all showed that your stomach was completely destroyed…you were rushed into emergency surgery right then and there. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know it's scary, especially since you don't remember any of it," the woman gently says, her eyes staring sympathetically down at her patient. She reaches down to brush a sparse hair from her eyes and sighs, "Vinny's currently in jail, from what I heard. There was a call to the police that he's been abusing you and so they came here and took him away."
The brunette shakes her head in disbelief. Tears pool in her eyes. She starts gasping for air at all the information she's just been given. It's too much, she thinks; she can't handle all this. "Who…who are you?"
Seeing her so distraught and fearful, the older woman grabs a chair and perches herself right beside her patient. She takes one of her hands in her own, stroking it comfortingly. "Nurse Mendoza, but you can just call me Gloria," she softly answers, watching her with graveness. Abused patients are always the hardest for her—she knows all too well what that's like to go through.
"I-I need Vinny," she cries out, her body trembling against the mattress. How can this be happening? How can everything just come barreling down on her all at once?
Shaking her head fiercely, Gloria cups her hands tenderly around the young woman's face and gives her a firm stare. "You don't deserve a man who thinks it's okay to put his hands on you! You don't need someone like that, sweetheart," her voice soothing as she brushes a hand comfortingly through her hair.
Lorna nods her head, sobs coursing heavily out of her. "He-he's all I have…the only person who loves me," she mumbles shakily.
"Oh, no, that's not true at all, Lorna. You have two friends sitting in the waiting room who are worried to death about you. They love and care about you. This Vinny guy doesn't know what love is—he's the reason you're lying here in a hospital bed with unimaginable amount of pain. Now you just lie here and calm down, got that? You don't need to stress over some dumb guy who doesn't know a good thing if it hit him in the head. I'm going to get your friends—they'll be happy to see you, sweetie."
The minute Alex and Nicky enter the room, their hearts ache deeply for the young brunette lying miserably in the hospital bed. They rush over to her, sitting on either side of the bed and grabbing hold of one of her hands. "No more Vinny, he's not allowed anywhere near ya again. You're too precious for an asshole like him, ya hear me kid? You deserve so much better than that," the oldest woman hisses, enraged with what that man's caused to her best friend. She bends down to place a soothing kiss atop the other's head.
Lorna squeezes her eyes shut as tears don't hesitate to fall from them. This is not how she planned for her life to go. Far from it, she thinks. Everything's happening so fast and it's too much for her. She can't handle all this pain—emotions, any of it. "Make it stop," her voice tearfully murmurs.
"Make what stop? What's the matter? Are ya in pain, Lorna?" Alex throws out her questions in a panic. Her arms wrap protectively around Lorna, gently scooping her onto her lap. She lays her up against her chest, hoping to soothe whatever pain she's experiencing.
The brunette shakes her head, sobs continuing to escape. She tries to free herself from the other's arms but that only causes a sharp pain to tear through her abdomen. She instinctively grabs onto it and cries out in pain. "I-I can't do this—end it, please end it," she desperately pleads.
"Shh, shh, shh," Alex hushes softly, slowly rocking her best friend in her arms. She holds her head tight against her heart, rubbing comforting circles tenderly around her back. "It's all gonna be okay; you'll be okay, Lorna. I promise. You have Nicky and I to help ya through this, baby, and I swear we won't leave you. Just close your eyes and try to sleep. The two of us are right here—we're not going anywhere."