Author's Note: I have a little over 4,000 words written, however, I'm only uploading a little bit at a time so that I can continue to keep writing this story. It's just something new I am trying. Also this entire story has dark and mature themes; I'm not putting warnings before each chapter so if you can't handle that, this story isn't for you. Thanks for reading and enjoy. As always everything I write is dedicated to my sweetheart, Kristina - I love and izzy you so much, my sweet angel.

Chapter One

Stansie felt the start of tears in her eyes but kept them at bay as she held her daughter's face right in front of her own. That innocent question broke her heart. She knew, deep down, that the chances of her returning home were slim. "Oh, my little Lorna. What grade are ya in now, huh?" Avoid the other's inquiry was the only way to keep her emotions in check.

"I'm in eighth grade, mama. But when will you come home? I miss you."

"Eighth grade? Ya really are a young lady, aren't ya?" The middle-aged brunette woman gave a sad smile while combing her hand soothingly through her daughter's identical brown curls. What felt worse than dying from cancer was knowing the three children she'd be living behind. Especially her youngest who just barely entered her teenage years.

Swallowing uncomfortably, Lorna nodded and held intense eye contact with her mother. "Why won't you answer my question? When, when, are ya coming, mom?"

That question felt like a knife to her chest. It was too late to hold back her tears now, she realized. They poured out like a waterfall. She took Lorna in her arms and kissed the top of her head softly. "My sweet Lorna," she muttered, her voice trembling as a lump sat in the bottom of her throat. "I don't…I don't think I'll be com-coming home any time soo-soon."

Mr. Morello entered the room, enraged when he saw the tears in his wife's eyes and his youngest daughter sitting on the bed with her. He immediately yanked the teenage brunette and threw her to the ground, pointing his finger roughly at the door. "Get the fuck outta here, Lorna. Making ya mother cry, get out!"

Shaken and disoriented from the recent turn of events, Lorna walked down the sterile hallway and entered the first bathroom she could find. She stood in front of the sink, taking a hard and thorough look at her reflection that appeared in the mirror. However, instead of seeing her own reflection, she saw the sick, frail, face of her mother staring back at her. The sight terrified her; her breath caught in her throat, she immediately turned the faucet on and splashed cold water all over her face. Still the image stayed in the mirror. All Lorna could do was stare at it. Her hands went numb, the water continuing to run.

The sound of the door creaking open brought her back to reality. She quickly shut the water off, grabbed a paper towel and ran out of the room. Her stomach was queasy; she could feel her heart pounding quite heavily in her chest. She walked back down the hall and felt a slight bout of relief when she noticed her older siblings sitting in an empty waiting room just a few steps away.

"Come on, Lorn," Franny directed as both she and Mikey stood up from their chairs. She motioned for the short brunette to come over. "We're heading out, and you're coming with us."

As the months wore on, the more toll it left on Lorna's mental health. Nothing she'd ever gone through was as painful and heartbreaking as watching her mother slowly die right in front of her. It was almost too much to bear. She wanted her mother to live, to be healthy again. She loathed the thought of one day losing her. The only thing that seemed to help her cope was cooking and baking. She'd spend an entire evening baking a batch or two of cookies and then deliver half of them to her neighbors and save the rest for her mom. Even though the chances of her mom asking for a cookie were slim to none.

"Morello, care to answer the question?"

Lorna swallowed uncomfortably and looked up from her notebook. Her eyes red and drained, dark circles beneath them. She looked ahead at the teacher who stared back with glasses resting at the tip of her nose. "Uh—um, wha-what was the question?"

Clapping her hands together, the teacher shakes her head distastefully. "Maybe if you had your eyes up here paying attention, ya might know what's going on. The question is what is it called when cells divide uncontrollably?"

Palms grew sweatier by the second. Lorna sucked a deep breath. She lay her hand over her temple as if that would make the answer magically come to her mind. Of course, it didn't; it only made her temple hurt. She sighed. The last thing on her mind was anything school related. She hadn't looked through any of her textbooks since her mother was sent to the hospital.

"Anyone else wanna answer the question since Miss Lorna here can't pay attention?"

"Cancer! Cancer is what makes cells divide uncontrollably," a classmate shouted out, a snarky tone quite evident.

Cancer. Cancer. Cancer! CANCER. Her mind started racing; all she could hear was the word cancer echoing louder and louder throughout her head. Everything around her became blurry and distorted. The only thing she heard was cancer. Mom has cancer. Mom has stage four liver cancer, Lorna. Cancer. CANCER! Her hands grew clammy, everything in her body became slow and limp. She felt far away—like she was sitting in a glass cage and could only hear the muffled sounds of jumbled words from nearby conversations.

Muffled voices and a keyboard clacking were what a very confused Lorna woke up to. She blinked her eyes several times before looking at her surroundings to figure out where exactly she happened to be. It was apparent that she was lying in the nurse's office, she confirmed, as her eyes peered over at the open door that led to the nurse's desk where a redhead teen seemingly tried to get out of her last class of the day while the nurse typed loudly on the computer in front of her.

"Come on, Nurse Reznikov, please just write me a slip to get outta that damn math class," the young girl with messy red curls begged. Her voice reminding Lorna of her aunt that used to smoke. Raspy and crackly, yet more childlike than her aunt's.

Turning away from the rather bulky compute, Mrs. Reznikov lowered her glasses to stare at the boisterous student. "Nicky, ya ask me this every day and the answer is still no. Now ya best get to class before you're given another detention. I gotta check on that girl over there anyway," she informed her, pointing her finger at Lorna, who seemed highly muddled with the current situation.

She grabbed a small dixie cup and filled it carefully with some water. "Here," her slight accented voice commanded as she handed the cup to the brunette. "Sip this water—slowly."

Nicky grumbled her dissatisfaction and moved her head to stare in direction of the person the nurse was now focusing her attention. She nodded her subconsciously. "You're in my math class, aren't ya? Ya tryna get outta it too?"

The young brunette didn't say anything, still not really sure what happened to herself. How she ended up in the nurse's office puzzled her. The only thing she could do was take the cup handed to her and sip the water cautiously. She rubbed at her temples, the sensation of a headache starting to form.

"Nicky, get going before you're late. Unlike you, some students actually come to my office for actual illnesses and accidents."

"Mhmm, I'll be back same time tomorrow," Nicky responded with a smirk before making her way out the door.

Pulling her chair over to the side of the bed, the middle-aged nurse pulled out a plastic thermometer and stuck it into Lorna's mouth. She looked at her watch briefly, then took the thermometer back out. "No temperature, so that's a good sign. Do you want another cup of water? Just stay put while I fill your cup back up," she directed, taking the empty cup and carrying it over to the water cooler.

Lorna said nothing, only sat there and waited silently for the water. She squeezed her eyes shut when a sharp pain came pounding through her head.

"Here," Mrs. Reznikov handed the cup to Lorna before situating herself back in her chair. She watched as the young girl slowly brought the water to her lips for a sip. "How do you feel?"

"I have a headache," was her muttered response. She took one last gulp of the water and pushed herself to sit up.

Shaking her head, the nurse used her hands to motion for Lorna to lay back down. "Don't move, you might have a concussion. I'll get ya some Advil and an ambulance is on its way to transport you to the hospital."

The last thing Lorna needed or wanted was to be taken to the hospital. She didn't want to set foot anywhere near there. It reminded of her mother and even though she was still alive, that didn't make being in a hospital any easier. "No, I don't needa go to a hospital. I'm fine…it's just a headache."

"Well, it's part of our safety protocol I'm afraid. It's just to be safe."