"If this was a movie, you'd be here by now."

Watching Vinnie drive away feels the same as seeing Christopher up on that stand, testifying against her: disorienting in the most fundamental way, as though the very earth beneath Lorna's feet has fallen away and she's plunging endlessly down, down, down. She feels like a wild animal, completely feral and untamed as sound rips its way out of her throat. It's meant to be Vinnie's name, but it comes out high-pitched and fearful, trailing off into a wavering no and then a sob as something inside her breaks.

This isn't happening. She closes her eyes, hears the makeshift sign clatter to the ground as she brings her hands up to cover her face. This is all wrong. This should be the happiest moment of her life, but instead all she feels is an intense dread settling heavy in her heart. There are so many people staring—the Spanish girl whose name Lorna doesn't remember standing at her left side, all the visitors congregated around the outside of the grounds, the guards standing down below. Maybe none of them are real, either. All that matters is Vinnie, but he's gone, he's gone, he's gone—she opens her eyes and even his car is out of sight now, the settling dust the only evidence he'd ever been there at all.

She can feel the tears trickling out from between her fingertips, and she's sure her mascara is leaving oily black streaks down her cheeks. Ordinarily, Lorna would run to her bunk to grab a washcloth and her lipstick and freshen up. There's something about a clean face of makeup that makes her feel instantly better; it's as if by looking put together on the outside, she can trick herself into believing everything is fine. The last time she'd stopped caring about makeup was when Nicky had gotten hauled away to Max, the last time she'd felt this very same devastation—but Lorna can't think about Nicky. Vinnie is the one who matters. And back in the cafeteria, Nicky had made it clear that Lorna is on her own now.

Lorna doesn't understand, not really. It's always like this with Nicky. She always wants more than Lorna can give her, but that's not Lorna's fault, is it? She'd told Nicky—she's with Vinnie now, and she wants to stay loyal to him. And Nicky had agreed. What happens in a riot stays in a riot.

Oh, but Lorna knows she's lying to herself. A good wife isn't supposed to run into the arms of an unreliable lesbian junkie, even if she's a junkie who happens to be able to make Lorna feel better than any man ever has. It just isn't right, and Lorna knows that. But god, she'd been so horny, and Nicky was there, just like she always is, and Lorna had let herself remember what it felt like to be touched by Nicky like that until she'd needed more than just her imagination to satisfy the ache between her thighs…

She feels guilty. Guilty for cheating. Guilty for saying she'd made vows and then asking Nicky to fuck her anyway. Guilty for the way Nicky had looked sitting there across from her in the cafeteria—the tightness in her jaw, the hurt behind her eyes. Lorna knows Nicky so, so well. And that's why she knows this time is different from all the fights they've had in the past. Nicky has never been so cruel before. She had said that Lorna's crazy, that it isn't cute anymore, that she needs help.

It's not true, none of it is true. Lorna knows she's not normal—ever since that day when Nicky held her on the stairs after Christopher's visit, she's known—but there's nothing so very wrong with her. Is there?

She's pregnant. Lorna knows. She knows what's real and what's fake, and Nicky is just hurt. Nicky is only lashing out again now because she knows Lorna wants to be with Vinnie, and that's the truth, Lorna does want to be with Vinnie, only Vinnie is gone and—

Another sob makes its way out of her tight throat. Vinnie isn't gone, he can't be. This is the delusion—Nicky is right, there's something wrong with her head, and it's making her believe that her handsome, protective, loyal Vinnie has left her when Lorna knows he'd never do that.

Would he?

She doubts him only for a moment and then hates herself for it. He wouldn't. She shakes her head, and with trembling hands she grabs up the sign. It looks pathetic lying there on the roof, just an old broom and a painted sheet, and the brokenness of it all brings tears to Lorna's eyes all over again. She shouldn't be crying, because nothing is wrong. That wasn't Vinnie in the crowd, that wasn't Vinnie making a dash for his car when his eyes landed on the sign. Lasagna in the oven. She'd thought it was pretty clever. Her Vinnie would think so, too—that's why she knows it isn't him she saw run away. He's probably in his car on the road to Litchfield right now, singing along to the radio and dreaming of seeing her. He's still coming for her. Her knight in shining armor will be here soon.

But her body knows what her mind cannot comprehend. The tears are still streaming down her cheeks; the cascade of mascara stings her eyes, but she is too numb to wipe the streaks of makeup away. Her feet lead her away from the roof, back down into the belly of Litchfield, and she's not sure if the walls feel like a cage or a fortress. In here, Litchfield becomes her whole world; nothing needs to exist outside the walls if she doesn't want it to. In here, at least Lorna is not alone.

Another animalistic sound, a low-pitched whine, tears its way out of her lungs as her words to Vinnie echo through her head, sounding flat and hollow: "I got nobody in here, baby, I got nobody." It's never been true before—ever since Nicky had first locked eyes with her and winked, back when Lorna had still been wearing that atrocious orange jumpsuit, she's never really been alone. Even when Nicky had been taken to Max, Lorna had known she had people looking out for her. Red would always protect her, because Red loved Nicky. And Nicky loved Lorna.

But now… well, Nicky doesn't love Lorna anymore. That's over, and Lorna wants to think it will be okay, but the truth is, nothing is the same now. She hasn't seen Red in hours, Piper and Alex are probably holed up somewhere together, and Nicky hates her. For the first time, Lorna finds herself without anyone to turn to.

Vinnie's on the outside, her brain reminds her. He's coming for you. Vinnie loves you, and he's coming for you, and when this is all over you're gonna have a beautiful baby and a handsome husband and it's gonna be perfect.

Her mind replays the way he looked on that little tiny phone screen: protective and manly and reassuring. His lips move, but Lorna cannot hear what he's saying. She knows the words that should be coming out of his mouth, but she cannot remember the way he said them and it makes her want to scream. She needs to hear it again, needs to hear Vinnie's voice telling her it's going to be alright because he'll be there soon. But all she hears is the sound of Vinnie's car unlocking, the grit of wheels on gravel as he pulls out of the parking lot, and it's becoming harder and harder to conjure the image of his face to her mind.

Instead, Nicky's face is the one that flashes before her eyes—raccoon rings of eyeliner, messy lion's mane of golden-red hair, teeth bared in an almost-snarl that's as much out of pain as it is out of anger.

She can hear Nicky's voice perfectly in her head: "I love you so much, Lorna."

But that can't be right. It's supposed to be Vinnie saying those words to her, not Nicky, because she's not in love with Nicky, she's in love with Vinnie, and he has to be the one she ends up with. Lorna is having his baby! And it's perfect. It's what she's dreamed about since she was a little girl—the assurance that after these nightmarish months at Litchfield are up, everything will be the way it is supposed to be. She won't have to stare at the perfect features of movie stars on the posters taped to the walls of her childhood bedroom. Not anymore, not ever again, because she'll have the real thing. This is what happily-ever-after is supposed to feel like.

Nicky isn't supposed to love her. Nicky isn't allowed to love her, she isn't in love with Lorna, it doesn't mean anything to her. How many times has Nicky told Lorna, during one of their arguments, that Lorna's nothing special? That Nicky has been with a million girls better than her, that Nicky could have a million other better girls in the future? Sex means nothing to Nicky; that's why she has the reputation she does. Lorna is just the warm body that Nicky comes back to when she can't fill the hole in her life with heroin, that's all. Nicky sitting in front of her, saying that she loves her—that's the delusion. Lorna's mind is making that up to trick her.

And that's when she sees it: Nicky with her hands in some other woman's hair, their faces pressed close together. The woman is blonde, athletic-looking, a little taller than Nicky. She's clearly confident, because even though Nicky's the one pinning her to the wall, she's grabbing Nicky's ass in a way that Lorna is sure is a turn-on for her. Whoever the mystery woman is, she's everything Lorna is not, and Lorna feels an inexplicable surge of jealousy at the sight.

And look how quickly Nicky moves on, kissing this other woman the same way she'd kissed Lorna just hours earlier. She doesn't love Lorna, whatever she'd said in the pharmacy and the cafeteria. If she'd said those things at all.

Nicky looks different, and Lorna's dazed mind can't tell if she thinks that's a good thing or not. Her hair is tied back in a classy bun—Lorna doesn't think she's ever seen it looking so sleek and well-behaved—and she's wearing subtle makeup that brings out those big brown eyes as she looks away from the mystery woman for a split second to glance at Lorna. Nicky's short black skirt shows off all her curves, and for a moment Lorna has an almost-vision: watching Nicky walk down a New York City sidewalk in that little black dress, a goofy smile on her face as she waves back at Lorna. But in Lorna's mind, that gorgeous hair that she loves so much is loose and blowing in the breeze. Nicky is wild and free and so beautifully alive, and for the first time, Lorna fully realizes that Nicky Nichols is capable of existing outside the walls of Litchfield. Maybe she's capable of existing in Lorna's life even after their sentences are up.

But it doesn't matter; Nicky doesn't want that anymore, if she even ever did. It's too late now. Nicky gives Lorna a look almost like she wants to say something, but then the mystery blonde whispers something to her and that smug, self-satisfied smirk falls back into place. Cockiness has always been a good look on Nicky, at least to Lorna, and apparently the blonde agrees because her hands are all over Nicky's body, and the two of them are leaning in again, and Lorna can't bear to watch anymore.

It feels like her heart has been impaled with a shitty prison shiv, and she's not sure if it's more because of Nicky or because of Vinnie. All Lorna knows is that she's losing the two best people she's ever known, and a little seed of doubt creeps into her mind for the first time. Maybe Nicky and Vinnie are right. Maybe Lorna really is crazy.

She had started out by trying to rationalize it: her period wasn't really that late; the women in her family had irregular cycles; they'd used a condom. She'd always had an overactive imagination. Her parents had had to remind her many times in her childhood not to jump to conclusions. So really, there was no way Lorna could possibly be pregnant.

But the nipples did not lie. She was standing in the shower two days after her period had failed to come on time when she noticed it: they were noticeably darker than before. And she'd have written it off like all of the other signs, but you know, that really was a thing for the Morello women. Lorna wasn't imagining it—she really was pregnant!

Lorna knew she should feel scared or uncertain, but instead all she could feel was elated. Maybe this wasn't the way she'd imagined having her first child—she'd wanted it to be as perfect as in the movies, complete with a beautiful white wedding and an elaborately-decorated room for the baby. But hey, a baby bump at the wedding could be kinda cute. And this was good news, really; she loved Bernardo. Sure, they'd had their ups and downs. Lorna was still convinced he'd cheated on her with that girl from the restaurant where they'd had their first date. And just yesterday he'd called her a crazy bitch, but those were small things, really. Anyway, Lorna was sure he'd meant it as a term of endearment—men just weren't good at expressing their emotions, that was all.

In all, Bernardo was just like his namesake from West Side Story: not quite the main heartthrob, but not half bad. Was he the Tony to Lorna's Maria? Not really. But Lorna knew she could do a lot worse, and besides, he was good looking. Their baby was gonna be the cutest anyone had ever seen, Lorna was sure of it.

She didn't even bother getting dressed after finishing her shower, just wrapped herself in a towel before running down the stairs to tell Franny. Her sister was seated at the breakfast table, a bowl of cereal languishing beside her as she texted frantically on her flip phone. The house was unusually quiet—their father was likely at work, and the bell wasn't ringing, which meant that Ma was mercifully still asleep.

Lorna waited a beat, but Franny didn't even look up when she slid into the chair opposite her. Even when Lorna cleared her throat pointedly, her sister's attention remained firmly fixed on the little screen.

"Franny!" Lorna snapped at last, batting the phone out of her sister's hand and causing it to fall with a thunk onto the wood of the table.

"God, Lorn, why are you always so impatient?" Franny groused. Scowling at her little sister, she snatched her phone up from the table, inspecting it to make sure it was alright. "You coulda knocked that right into the milk!"

"Yeah, but I didn't." Lorna frowned at her sister, who'd gone back to texting. "Is that Jack?"

Franny's eyes flashed in warning. "None of your goddamn business."

"Ooh, it is Jack!" said Lorna gleefully, before remembering she hadn't come downstairs to make fun of her sister. "Well, aren't you gonna ask me why I'm down here in only my towel?"

Franny rolled her eyes, but she complied with Lorna's request in a clearly patronizing tone. "Fine. Why're you down here in only your towel?"

"You gotta ask like you mean it."

"Stop pouting, Lorna. You're too old for that."

Lorna wanted to be mad at her sister, but she was too excited to share her news. "Franny, I'm pregnant!"

"What?" Franny's expression wasn't at all what Lorna had expected—imagining it just moments before, Lorna had pictured a wide smile spreading across that pink-glossed mouth as Franny jumped up and pulled her into a hug, squealing about how excited she was to be an aunt. But the way Franny was staring at her now wasn't happy. Instead, concern and confusion were written across her features as she stared back at her little sister.

"Well?" Lorna could feel her own smile wavering the longer Franny looked at her like that. "Aren'tcha gonna congratulate me?"

"Lorn." Franny's tone was gentle. "Are you sure you're really pregnant?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Lorna said indignantly. What, did Franny think she was making all this up? This wasn't her imagination—this was the real thing.

"I know you are, honey," Fran said, using that voice that Lorna hated. It was her condescending older sister voice—the one she always used when she thought she knew what was best for Lorna, all sickly sweet and fake nice. Lorna had hated that voice ever since they were children and Franny had first used it to inform her that she was childish for still believing in Santa Claus at the age of ten. (Their mother had scolded Fran for it, but the magic had been ruined for Lorna all the same.)

Lorna huffed. "I hope Bernardo's happier for me than you are."

Franny's eyes widened; Lorna could see her sister bite her lip, opening her mouth as if to say something before shutting it and shaking her head. With a sigh, Franny went back to looking at her phone.

Now Lorna was suitably pissed off. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Franny."

"I said, it's nothing!"

"It ain't nothing," Lorna snapped. "Obviously you have something to say to me, so you might as well fucking say it."

Franny looked surprised at her usually tame sister's choice of words; Lorna was an adult, but she barely ever swore. At least not in front of the family. Giving a sigh of defeat, Francine threw her hands up in the air.

"Maybe you shouldn't tell him, Lorn."

Lorna frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, wasn't he gonna break up with you?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Franny, Bernardo loves me." She defended him without a second thought. There was nothing to question; their relationship was solid. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she remembered the nice dinner they'd gone out to last night. It had been beautiful and romantic—he'd taken her to a fancy restaurant with flickering candlelight and soft violins playing in the background. Lorna had worn one of the designer dresses she loved, the ones she got online. Maybe it was a little bit illegal the way she got them, but so what? It wasn't hurting anyone.

Bernardo had complimented her on that dress, too; he himself had looked more handsome than ever, sitting there in a nice button down and slacks with his dark hair slicked back. Glancing around the room, Lorna had done a quick survey and concluded that they were definitely the best-looking couple there. They'd dined and talked, and Bernardo had told her he loved her and kissed her goodnight on the front porch—chastely enough that they wouldn't be embarrassed if anyone saw, but with just enough tongue to give Lorna little electric shocks from her head down to her toes. That was what had happened.

But her brain played back a second sequence of events just as quickly: Bernardo looking frustrated and tense as soon as he'd sat down across from her. He'd forgotten to pull her chair out. He didn't even compliment her dress or the blush-pink lipstick she'd picked out just for him. And then he'd opened his mouth and said—

"This isn't working, Lorna."

"What do you mean, not working?" She could feel her voice getting hysterical, but she didn't know how to rein it in. Instead, the anger was rising in her throat, flushing her cheeks. Who the fuck did Bernardo think he was?

There was a long silence.

"I just think it might be better if we both saw other people," Bernardo said at last, and oh, she just wanted to jump across the table and strangle him right then and there.

Instead, she drew in a deep breath and pasted a poisonous fake smile on her face. "Oh, you think so?"

He looked relieved that she was taking it so well. "Yeah, Lorna, I do."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." Her tone of voice was deadly calm; something was dawning on her. If Bernardo didn't want her, she'd make sure he lived to regret it. "I deserve better than you, you scumbag."

"What?" She reveled in the confusion on his face, the way he looked so caught off-guard.

"You heard me," Lorna said primly.

"Yeah, well, if you think that, you're even more of a crazy bitch than I thought." Angrily, Bernardo pushed back his chair and threw his napkin down on the table. "Don't call me again."

She watched him walk away, feeling triumphant. She knew he loved her. It was only a matter of time before he realized what he'd lost and came running back.

"Lorna?" Franny was waving a hand in front of her eyes.

"Hmm?"

"You were on another planet for a sec there."

Lorna frowned. "I'm fine. I gotta call Bernardo."

"That don't sound like a good idea, sweetheart," Franny said.

"Yeah?" Lorna challenged. "Why not?"

"How late did you say your period was?" Franny was deflecting, but Lorna didn't bother calling her on it.

"Two days."

Franny's eyes widened. "That's barely any time, Lorna, it's probably just late."

"It's not." She knew it wasn't. "I'm pregnant. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go tell my boyfriend that he's gonna be a father."

She made to get up, but Franny stood up just as suddenly, her arm darting across the table to grab Lorna by the wrist.

"How about we get you a pregnancy test first?" Franny phrased it like a suggestion, not an order, but it still made Lorna prickle. When was Franny gonna get a life of her own and stop meddling in Lorna's business?

But maybe it was better just to let Franny have this one. Lorna was sure she really was pregnant, anyway; a test would only confirm what she already knew to be true.

"Fine," she sighed. "Let's get a test."

When the first pregnancy test came back negative, Lorna made her sister buy five more. She stashed them in her desk drawer where she knew her parents wouldn't find them; they'd have a heart attack if they knew Lorna was having a baby out of wedlock. But it would be okay. Lorna knew that as soon as Bernardo heard the news, he'd get right down on one knee like the gentleman he was. He loved Lorna. He hadn't meant it when he'd broken up with her; now that they were going to have a baby, he'd come back and beg for her forgiveness and kiss her and it would all be okay again.

Because she was pregnant, whatever the test said. She knew it. She knew it even after the second, third, and fourth tests came back negative. Whatever those tests said, whatever Franny said, Lorna just knew.

Then, on the fifth day, she got her period. Looking down at the reddish-brown stain in her underwear, Lorna felt her head begin to whirl. This wasn't possible. This was all wrong. She needed this. Maybe this was a bad dream or her imagination, maybe she was still pregnant, maybe—

That night, she cried herself to sleep.

When Lorna sees the pregnancy tests in the pharmacy cabinet, it feels like they were placed there just to taunt her. Nicky had suggested it back in the cafeteria, sounding just like Franny had all those years ago, but Lorna doesn't want to take a test. She tells herself it's not that she doesn't want to see what it says; it's just that it would be a waste of a perfectly good pregnancy test when she already knows she's got a bun in the oven.

And anyway, Nicky isn't here to boss her around and call her crazy anymore. In fact, Nicky is nowhere to be seen. She hasn't been in the pharmacy since she left to take care of Red, and even then, the only words they'd said directly to each other were angry. Lorna had wanted to hug her, but the closest she'd gotten was running her hands over Nicky's exposed shoulders while Nicky talked Red down from her harebrained plan to lure Piscatella into the prison. Lorna had been ashamed in that moment of how she couldn't stop wanting to be close to Nicky despite everything. It's just that she's not used to being alone, that's all. Nicky has always been the person in Litchfield she's closest to; the longing Lorna feels to touch her again, to make Nicky believe once and for all that she's not crazy—those are natural things to want from her best friend. There's nothing unusual about it.

And now Nicky has disappeared, according to Red. But Lorna refuses to be worried—after all, disappearing is one of the things Nicky Nichols is best at. Getting sent to the SHU, then Max, then leaving Lorna sitting there in the cafeteria with tears in her eyes so she could go fuck some other girl. She'll probably turn up in a few hours with her slanted grin and that seductive tone of voice, pushing Lorna up against the wall and asking her if they can give it one more go. Lorna will have to turn her down, of course, push her out of her mind the way she always does. But she'd rather think about that than the way Nicky had looked walking out of the pharmacy with Red—the way she hadn't even turned back, hadn't even spared one last glance to make sure Lorna was alright.

The pregnancy tests remind her of Nicky. Worst of all, they remind her of Vinnie. She can't bear to look at them, so Lorna pushes a couple of boxes of band aids in front of them and then shuts the cabinet door—calmly, like nothing is wrong. Because there's nothing in there that could change everything, nothing that could tell her once and for all if she's really as crazy as everyone thinks she is. It's easier to pretend she hasn't seen the box at all.

But she can't seem to forget that it's there, hidden behind the glass window of the cabinet and a couple of boxes of cheap, off-brand bandages. Lorna tries to put it out of her mind, she really does, but it haunts her. Even as she tells the other inmates that 'crazy' is just a state of mind, that they're all special and unique and shouldn't let the world take that away from them, she wonders about her own sanity.

What if Nicky and Franny and Vinnie are right about her after all? What is she supposed to do if she can't even trust herself anymore?

She has to know. That's why she opens the cabinet and moves the band aids, and there are the pregnancy tests again. Lorna feels almost as if that box is alive and staring back at her with an intimidating sort of glare. Her hands shake when she takes it down from the shelf, but she makes herself open it anyway.

Sitting in the grimy stall of one of the prison bathrooms, she watches the little blue line appear and cries because she doesn't even know if it's real. More than anything, Lorna wishes there were someone she could talk to, someone who could look and confirm what she thinks she's seeing. She almost wishes she could sink back into the fantasy, hazy and disconnected from the world, but she sees everything with startling clarity in this moment: Nicky and Vinnie are gone, and she's probably lost them forever.

The only person Lorna has now is herself.