How to describe her? She is a narcissist, melodramatic, addict with no sense of motherhood. She sees herself as her first and only child. She protects no one but herself. She and pain created beautiful, independent, children who fight for each other. Her faces change with the flick of a switch, a sensitive bud of nerves. She is a death sentence.

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Why am I still here for you?

Even when I know you aren't there too?

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no one's POV*

Lip was breathing harshly and Fiona shuffled as gently as she could under Lydia so she wouldn't wake her up. Little did she know that Lydia had passed out. Her brain trying to cope with the huge influx of emotion.

She rushed over to him and grabbed the phone from his hand and listened to the messages.

"Hey uh... I don't know what your up to but if you could just— If you could just come by the home soon. I think that... I know that my mom is about to die. She says she's only got about half an hour, who knows though she's always been dramatic. She does that when she knows she's getting attention. And she— fuck it I'm rambling. Just come by... when you get this call I don't know how long I'm gonna be here. See you soon... I— bye."

She clicked to the next message.

"Hey... I don't know where you are or what you're doing... I hope you're okay. *sniffing* She's gone. I haven't called the nurses yet... I just wanted to hear your voice."

She was looking at him now, his face growing increasingly red. Fiona started to look heartbroken. She clicked to the last message.

"Uhm... I don't know what's going on, I thought you'd— it's been about two hours since I called the first time. I really hope nothing is wrong. I don't want to text you because I want to tell you I don't want you to read it. I made the arrangements. The burial is in two days. She's gonna be cremated, they fixed it so all I have to do is show up at the gravesite. I'm gonna head back home now, I guess I'll see you there."

Fiona lowered the phone and turned back to Lydia laying on the couch.

"Holy shit. What were you doing?"

"I was just hanging out I didn't think something this serious was happening."

"So you saw that she called?" He was quiet, and she knew. "She's probably pissed at you."

"I— fuck." He said forcefully as he ran a hand through his hair. His face was red and he nearly looked tearful.

"We should move her, she's probably going to get a crick in her neck," Fiona said as she moved to the front of the couch to wake her.

"Lyd... Lyd, come on let go upstairs." She pushed her shoulder a bit. "Lydia? Fuck Lyd, come on! Lydia." She was shaking her shoulder now. Lip rushed to the other side of the couch and started checking vitals. He raised her eyelid and saw it dilate a bit before evening out.

"She passed out." He was still breathing harshly.

"What do you mean? Like she fainted?"

"Yeah, she fainted, I thought you said she was asleep?"

"How can someone faint in their sleep?"

"I don't know, move over. I'll carry her up."

"Be careful."

He lifted her shoulders and slid his arm under her before lifting her legs and carrying her up the stairs. He laid her gently on her bed and closed the door before crawling in next to her.

He tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear and slowly fell asleep next to her.

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Lydia's POV*

I woke up slowly. I didn't want to open my eyes just yet but I reached out with my ears. It was quiet in the house, so either it was early morning or late night.

As I laid there listening I suddenly realized I could hear deep breathing beside me. I scrunched my eyebrows in confusion and slowly opened my lashes.

And there he was. Lip Gallagher, sleeping away face to face with me.

I took this time to stare at him. He looked younger in his sleep. His eyebrows didn't crease and his mouth wasn't as pinched.

And all I could think about was how he looked at my calls and left them unheard. For Karen Jackson.

I shifted onto my stomach shaking the bed a bit. He inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered. When they opened he blinked a bit before rubbing his face with his hand. His head settled back on the pillow and he glanced over at me.

I was just laying there blank faced and staring.

"Hey... I'm so sorry about your—"

"Stop." I shook my head at him. His face crunched in confusion.

"What—?" He looked at my face fully. Saw how blank it was. "What's wrong?"

"I don't even know where to begin. Maybe with the call I got from the home. My mother apologizing to me with her last breath. Planning her funeral. Maybe it was how worried I was about you for not answering the phone. Or seeing you check the screen and just stick it back in your pocket."

"What do you—?"

"On the train. You remember? You were sitting there talking to Karen Jackson, who forcefully yelled at me, and you, to get the fuck out of her house the last time I saw her. And you pulled the phone out, checked the notifications and shoved it right back in your pocket."

He looked dumbfounded. He was searching my face, for what I don't know.

"Lydia..."

"It's okay, Lip. Really. And I don't feel like talking about it," I shook my head as I said it. "I kinda just want to be alone, if you don't mind."

"Please, Lyd. Let me—"

"Close the door when you leave please." We we're looking in each others eyes. He knew I was serious.

"She was telling me ab—"

"Lip. I am tired."

"Her mom—"

"Philip. It's late. I am physically and emotionally drained. Please... just go." I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. After a long moment I felt the bed shift as he got up. And even though I was so tired of crying I could feel the tears building in my eyes. When he got to the door he paused and looked back at me. I met his eyes and he sighed. The tears were flowing slowly down the corners of my eyes and into my hair.

"No."

I sighed. And my eyes closed.

"You don't know what I was doing with her."

"And I told you I don't want to talk about it right now. Tomorrow, the next day... just not right now. Please."

"I'm not leaving."

"Then lay down and stay quiet."

He walked back and grabbed the blanket off the entire bed before laying down and tossing it out above us. He scooted close to me and I shifted away from him. Suddenly he threw his arm around my waist and pulled me close.

"Lip. What are you doing?"

He stayed quiet.

"What. Are you. Doing?"

"You told me to stay quiet."

I groaned and he pulled me even closer. "Why are you holding me?"

"Trying to comfort you."

"A little late."

"Just shut up."

I grit my teeth. I felt him lay his forehead on my bare back above the line of my tank top. Sooner or later I felt my eyes start to droop, his breath behind me was even and it soothes me to sleep.

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The next morning I woke up long before Lip did. He lay next to me, the grip he had on my waist last night had slackened and his arm was just resting on me. So I got up slowly.

I walked out of the room and down the hall to the shower. It was early so I took a long shower knowing the water heater would fill up again before they all woke up. It was relaxing to let the heat detangle my tensed muscles. Lavender body wash and a little drop of vanilla body oil and I felt much better. A grapefruit shampoo, that looked mysteriously lower than it had a day or so ago, woke me up gently.

It was surreal. Now the only family I had was here. The house that tormented me was gone. It was dreamlike.

Stepping out of the warm cocoon of water and into the steamy bathroom I toweled off and dressed in a loose shirt and leggings. I tossed my hair up in the towel and quietly walked back to the bedroom. Lip was still sleeping.

I grabbed a box off the dresser, a box labeled Office from the Torture House. I sat it on the corner of the bed and just stared at it. Lip was laying on the far side of the bed, the sheet over his waist and halfway up his torso. I could see a fine sprinkle of hair between his pecs. He looked peaceful.

I felt oddly relaxed. It wouldn't matter now if I searched this box and found adoption papers. It was all over. He was gone, she was gone. It wouldn't make a difference.

So I reached up quietly, and with a spare pocket knife from my dresser, I slit the tape. Opened the box. And pulled out the first folder. Finances. I set them on the bed gently. I did that for each folder until I reached the bottom of the box.

The last file. My name. Pounding heart.

I lifted it quietly and flipped it open. I found old school drawings and poems, a school picture or two. And a birth certificate with a blacked out line over the parents names, the child's name.

I found an old social security card, also blacked out. Then I found my birth certificate. Lydia Ann Walsh, parents Margaret Jenette Walsh (née Anderson) and Jackson Andrew Walsh.

Behind that was another document. For adoption. The breath left me.

So it was true.

I put all the files back in the box, leaving mine on top, closed it, and put it back on the dresser. I laid back down on the bed, towel still in my hair.

I just laid there facing Lip, who was facing me, and stared at the sheets. I could hear him starting to wake up, a deep inhale, a slow exhale. His feet shuffling under the blanket. I glanced at him and saw his eyes flutter open.

We held eye contact for a while and when it was clear he wasn't going to say anything I opened my mouth first.

"I'm adopted."

"You found the papers?"

"Yeah..."

He leaned closer to me and pulled me into a hug, just holding me.

"You weren't there."

He reached up and pulled the towel from my hair and brushed it back with his fingers. Leaning forward he kissed the top of my head and took a deep breath of the citrus shampoo.

"I know, and I am so sorry." I could hear how choked he sounded.

"What is so perfect about her?"

"About who?" He asked.

"Karen, why do—"

"She's not perfect." He said almost disgusted. I was quiet.

"She wanted to talk, to tell me what happened to her mom. And I figured fine, she'll talk and I'll get my money for tutoring her. It was more complicated than I thought it would be. It took a lot longer than I though it would..."

I nodded under his chin. He sighed.

"Her mom was attacked about a year and a half before Karen was born. Some guy on the street pulled her into an ally. Attacked her... raped her. She got pregnant and she couldn't get rid of it. But Karens dad didn't want it, couldn't bring himself to keep it and he told her that they were giving the baby up. It was when she started locking herself up in the house..."

"Agoraphobia," I said.

"Yeah... that and she started to freak about germs and bacteria. All sorts of things. But when she had to leave the baby she was... majorly depressed. She said she wanted a baby. Her baby, but Eddie wouldn't let her keep it and she got pregnant again soon after she had it. That was Karen. She named the baby she gave up Carly Annette. And I guess seeing you... you must've made her think about what Carly should've looked like."

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Hey guys!! I hope you enjoy this! It just popped in my head! I guess I'm trying to make up for lost time!

Have a great day!!