Chapter Fifty-Seven
An hour passed. Two hours, three. Before long it was dark outside, only lit up by the moon and stars. And yet, Lorna still sat at that kitchen table. Still cradled that cup in her hands. A cup that was now empty of its contents. Nicky looked at the clock and realized it was nearing eleven. School was tomorrow, she'd have to find a way to get Lorna to finally move from her spot. She slicked back her hair and gradually made her way back towards the kitchen. Eyes softening the second they landed on the brunette. A sigh erupted from her mouth.
"Come to bed with me, kid. It's late," her voice huskily called out as she carefully approached the brunette teen.
Lorna didn't move an inch, hardly even paid her any mind. A quiet breath of air burst through. Nicky cautiously walked closer until she was nearly touching her shoulder from the close proximity between the pair of them now. She framed her hands around the flesh of Lorna's cheeks and gradually turned her so that they were facing each other. Lips formed into a frown when she looked into the smaller girl's eyes and saw the tears staining the skin beneath them. She brought her thumb over to soothingly caress the area.
Slowly coming from her daze, Lorna twisted her head sufficiently to return the gaze. Eyebrows curved upwards as she stared into the deeply concerned eyes of her girlfriend. After a few seconds, she shifted her stare onto the mug retained in her hand and quickly observed that it was empty. A disheartened chuckle came out as she placed the cup onto the table's surface. "I musta drank all my coffee, Nicky, the cup's empty," she commented, shrugging her shoulders simultaneously.
Her eyes returned focus onto the girl who hovered beside her and an innate hand was brought up to cup around one of her cheeks. "I have therapy on Wednesday. In two days, well, one if ya don't count the rest of today," Lorna informed the other as if she hadn't been repeating that statement for the last few hours for all to hear.
Despite having heard those words come out of her repetitively since they had come home from the hospital hours prior, Nicky chose not to bring any of that up. Rather, she engulfed Lorna in a secure embrace and pressed a warm kiss to her head. "I know, babe, and I think it'll be good for ya to go. Maybe she can help figure out what to do with what's going on right now, yeah?" She used a hand to lovingly push a loose strand of hair from the brunette's eyes.
"You mean the whole thing with my dad? I don't know how my therapist can help with that, hon. I gotta give my dad a part of my liver or he'll die. What's there to figure out?" Lorna held out her hands for emphasis.
Nicky swallowed thickly, trying her hardest to retain the anger from escaping. It wasn't Lorna's fault she felt enthralled with anger every time she heard the mentions of that demented father of hers. No, the only one at fault was Mr. Morello. She tightened her arms around Lorna's waist, pulling her closer in the process, and affectionately smothered her head in kisses. "You don't have to give him anything, doll. Please don't make any decisions until after the appointment on Wednesday, yeah? I think Doctor Washington would have some helpful words for you on this," her voice gently pleaded, fingers raking through thick brown hair.
Nodding slightly, Lorna squinted her eyes as she focused on the pattern of Nicky's t-shirt. She traced along it with the tip of her thumb and concurrently inched herself closer. "She likes to be called Poussey, her name. Said the whole doctor thing makes her feel old," the statement nonchalantly spoken, head spontaneously bobbing with each word.
Stroking her lips warmly onto the pale flesh of Lorna's cheeks. Eyebrows scrunched up curiously over her big brown eyes. "Poussey, huh? Is that French or something? Never heard that name before."
"It is French, she told me. Her dad was in the military like my brotha and I guess when she was born they were in France so he gave her a French name. Isn't that real sweet, hon? She's lucky to have such a nice dad," her voice trailed off at the end, saddened that her own was so hateful towards she and her siblings. It had been so long with him the way he was now that Lorna couldn't hardly remember what he was like before. What it was like to have a normal father. A father that took care of his children and enjoyed having them around. That was all foreign to her now.
The frown which remained on Nicky's face widened a slight amount. Without any trouble she was able to clearly observe the pain that took up shape on the face of her lover. She sighed, cupping her hands affectionately around its flesh. Her heart shattered for the hurt her Lorna was left to experience. Fingers stroked softly up and down the length of her cheeks and jawline. "Yeah, that's sweet kid," she huskily agreed, moving closer and resting their foreheads against each other.
Lips brushed feathery onto the tip of Lorna's nose. Using the tops of her knuckles, Nicky caressed them soothingly up and down the skin of her cheek. "I'm sorry, doll, I know it sucks having a piece of shit parent. You deserve so much better than the shit your dad put you through. And what you're dealing with now is so, so, unfair. I wish there was something more I could do for ya, kid. Ya don't deserve to have to suffer through any of what ya are and have been." Eyes melded lovingly into Lorna's eyes. She shook her head somewhat while a sigh was released from her lungs.
"No, hon, what's real unfair is that my dad can have his life saved with my liver but my mom didn't fucking get the same chance. I'da gave my mom every last part a my body if it meant she'd be here now. That's not fucking fair, Nicky. Mom had a sickness but my dad—he, he did this to himself. Why does he get to be the one to have a chance to live? Why? I want my mom back; I wanna trade my dad for her." Desperation oozed heavily from her voice as she spoke. Tears that had previously formed now fell freely from brown eyes down along her cheeks.
Without saying another word, Nicky lovingly took hold of Lorna's hand and led her away from the kitchen and in leu of her bedroom. Where they could snuggle up in her bed and Lorna could cry comfortably in her arms rather than standing in the cold kitchen. It wasn't long before the pair of them were doing exactly that—Nicky gently laid Lorna down first then got in beside her, scooping her into a secure embrace. Hands combed repeatedly through thick strands of brown hair. Lips naturally glided against the flesh of a soft forehead.
Out of instinct Lorna found herself nuzzling her face into the crook of the older girl's neck. Not stopping the tears that slid along the skin of her face. She wrapped her own arms around the upper part of Nicky's body close to where her head was resting. An involuntary sob forced its way from her throat, something she hadn't been expecting to occur. It was as if her body suddenly had a mind of its own. She swallowed uneasily and closed her eyes for a few seconds. Anger towards her father had long morphed into sorrow. The tears poured out of her in what seemed like truckloads. Like an incessant waterfall.
Nicky loathed seeing the girl she loved hurting so intensely. It formed a sharp tightness in her chest to witness. Arms tightened around her waist and she pulled her even closer. She stroked a soft peck on the top of her head, gently swaying back and forth as she held her. Her chin retained its usual position on the top of Lorna's head so she could keep it safely tucked away from the cruel reality. At least for the rest of the night, she sighed.
"I know, babe, I know none of what's going on is fair. Not at all," breath trickled onto the flesh of Lorna's ear her mouth was resting beside. The palm of her hand pressed gently into the flesh of Lorna's cheek, stroking softly up the length of it. "I wish I knew the answers to your questions, kid, I really do. Because it's not right that your scum of a father, who drank himself into liver failure, gets the possibility of having a new one while someone who suffered through a terrible illness like cancer didn't. Obviously your mom deserved that second chance not your dad. And I'm so sorry there's nothing that can be done to change that," she whispered while gently curling a strand of brown hair behind the ear her lips spoke over.
Drank himself into liver failure, Lorna scrunched her nose as the statement repeated itself in her mind. He drank himself sick because he had two delinquent daughters to look after while also caring for his dying wife. Words she recalled him saying to her on more than one occasion. She swallowed a lump. It was her fault he drank. She wasn't a good enough daughter; she should have taken care of the house better or helped more with Mrs. Morello. Maybe if she'd done any of that her father wouldn't be on the brink of death and it on her hands right now. Maybe he would have never abused her and Franny if she had been a more attentive daughter. She was the cause of her own life spiraling the way it had recently, she mentally acknowledged.
Eyes squeezed shut and her hands grabbed fistfuls of Nicky's cotton t-shirt. The only two things that had the ability to steady her in that moment. Breathing became a slight chore; she felt as if an elephant or two were sitting on her chest. Mouth opened and shut several times but it didn't feel like a sufficient amount of air was going in. The fists of her hands around her girlfriend's shirt tightened, longing for the gesture to somehow ease her breathing once more. To no avail.
Instantly, Nicky took note of Lorna's struggle and sat up with her in her lap. She patted her back a little rougher than normal but in a way that wasn't to cause pain. The other hand she used to cradle Lorna's chin in. Their eyes melded together once the brunette reopened her own and cautiously Nicky leaned closer to press a soothing kiss on the corner of Lorna's mouth. "Take a breath, doll. It's okay. You're okay," the words hummed warmly out of her as she nuzzled their noses gently together.
The back of her hand rubbed slowly up and down the pale skin of her cheek. "Ya might just be having a little panic attack. But you'll be okay, baby. I've got ya," Nicky tenderly assured, rocking the both of them in a gentle side-to-side motion. She kept up with the patting of her back until she noticed Lorna's breathing gradually steady into a normal rhythm yet again. Though the patting motion ceased, Nicky retained her hand on her spine to make sure she knew she was there with her.
"Ya feel better now, babe?" Eyes peered softly down into Lorna's, silently reassuring her that everything would soon work out. Despite not knowing if that were entirely true or not.
"I, uh, I—I have therapy on Wednesday. Therapy on Wednesday, Nicky," Lorna said as if it were some chant of comfort. It was the only thing she could easily respond with in the moment because she didn't have to ponder over the words she was reciting. Reciting. Maybe she was reciting some mental script. A mental script that her inner self was feeding to her brain.
Cradling her head protectively against her softly-beating chest, the redhead nodded while giving a tender kiss atop her head. An innate breath huffed out of her throat as she retained the soothing rocking motion. She was thankful for Lorna's upcoming therapy session that week; it was blatant to her just how much the poor girl needed it. Her fingers brushed over and over through thick strands of brown hair, hoping to bring some sort of easement to her.
Therapy wouldn't make the decision any less of a challenge. Wouldn't take any of the heaviness from her heart or ease the knot in her gut. Lorna recognized all of that. Yet, she felt a sense of calm knowing her appointment was in less than two days. Maybe it was just the fact that she would be allowed to speak freely about everything without the backlash of her father or maybe it was because her therapist would offer her that familiar cup of peppermint tea. No matter which it was, she truly looked forward to attending the session for the first time since she'd started going.
Eyes shifted gradually up onto the older girl who lie beneath her and she moved her head to rest on the side of her shoulder which made it so that her cheek was merely touching the lower portion of Nicky's. "My therapy," she whispered softly, bring a hand to cradle around the bottom of the other girl's chin. "Will ya come with me to it on Wednesday, hon?"
Despite having been asked the same question over the weekend, Nicky nodded her head rather sharply and naturally allowed the part of her cheek that was resting near Lorna's to press gently against its flesh. There wasn't anywhere else she'd prefer to be on that day than with her girlfriend sitting by her side at the therapy appointment, her mindful thoughts concluded. "Course' doll, of course I'll come with ya. I wanna be here for you, especially at therapy with you so I can learn how to help you. I love you with all my heart, Lorna. There's nothing I want more than to help ya through all this shit, yeah?"
Using her thumb, Nicky delicately moved a sparse piece of brown hair from her girlfriend's eyes and placed her lips warmly over the flesh where it had once been, kissing it softly. "You'll always have me," the words murmured breathily against the flesh her mouth hovered atop. They were said with all the love she had for the girl in her arms, were meant with each cell that made up her body. She'd never disappear from Lorna's life—couldn't even if she wanted to. Lorna had her heart.
"Oh," hummed out of the brunette's throat as her body instinctively wormed closer to Nicky's. The heartfelt comments which spilled out from the precious mouth of her lover were sufficient to have another round of tears come pouring down Lorna's near translucent cheeks. Encouraged her fingers to caress lovingly along the skin of Nicky's chin her hand framed beneath. "My Nicky," she whispered, moving her fingers up to her cheeks and then to her forehead, brushing around where they touched every which way.
"I just—you, you're—I love you more. I love you so much more, my Nicky. I wish there was more I could do to show ya my appreciation for all ya do for me, hon. You're not just my girlfriend, but you're the truest—most kindest—best friend I've ever had and I-I don't know what I'd ever do without ya," Lorna remarked, her voice inflected vastly with only the utmost warmth and affection for the person she was addressing.
The faint breakage in Lorna's voice near the end of what was spoken hadn't gone past Nicky's ears. Her eyes never once faltered their intensely soft gaze from Lorna's. The stare was so intense that her eyes simply melded into those of her girlfriend's. With such close proximity between them, it didn't take long for their foreheads to naturally rest in their usual spot against each other's. Nicky's lips pressed onto the corner of Lorna's mouth while a hand cupped warmly around her face.
She took in every thing she could on Lorna's face. Took in the emotions, the feelings, the expressions. A breath inhaled and then exhaled from her. "You don't ever have to worry about finding out what that's like, doll, because I will not ever leave ya," Nicky sternly, yet lovingly, assured the younger teen as she left a delicate trail of kisses all along her cheeks.
"You," she said in between kisses, "are," another peck was placed, "stuck," and another peck, "with me," one, two, and three subsequent pecks pressed onto Lorna's cheek, "forever."
Eyes widened slightly from the numerous kisses being placed all over her cheek. Angelically, soft, kisses. Kisses that made Lorna's heart nearly turn into a puddle of mush. When had she done anything to deserve someone so precious? Someone like her Nicky. Her Nicky who only ever showed her what factual love and kindness were. Who only treated her with the gentlest of hands, the gentlest of affection. She swallowed a random lump that had seemingly sat in her throat. She wouldn't say anything aloud about not believing this was real, but in her mind she acknowledged this unconditional love that Nicky had for her would never be something she was worthy of. There wasn't anything she could ever do to be worthy of Nicky and her love, she knew that. And she felt so terrible for not having the capability of making Nicky feel as loved and special as she had done for her. She would never be good enough for the angelic redhead beside her. Never. But she vowed to do whatever she could to show Nicky the same love and kindness right back.
It was nearing two in the morning when all three in the house were jolted out of their slumbers from the boisterous sound of persistent knocking on the front door. Red was first to make it through the barely lit hallway and into the living room, shortly followed by Nicky and Lorna before she had gotten a decent grip on the door's handle. The teens both stood behind Red as she pulled on the door to open it just enough that she was able to peer out at the culprit who stood on the other side of it.
When Red's blue eyes were finally able to clearly focus, she was shocked to realize the person on the other side of her front door to be a police officer. She didn't open the door any wider, unsure of why there happened to be a cop standing in front of her. Neither Nicky or Lorna had done anything other than retreat to the bedroom, she knew. What reason was there for an officer to be visiting her house at this late hour? Eyebrows arched nervously over her eyes, trying to figure it all out.
"Can I help you? It's the middle of the night, is there a reason you're banging on my door at this hour?" Red questioned animatedly, not too fond of being woken up in the middle of the night by someone beating on her front damn door. The tone of her voice probably could have been less edgy, she realized, but she didn't dawdle on that for very long.
The officer cleared her throat louder than was necessary. An expression on her face that wordlessly informed the three others she wasn't particularly thrilled with the attitude seeping from Red's voice. She gestured her hands toward the rather thin opening between the door and its frame, "Would you mind letting me in first? It is the middle of the night and I don't think your neighbors would appreciate being woken by us talking out here."
Such audacity of the request had Mrs. Reznikov's eyes widening and eyebrows furrowing. She swallowed down the irritation and reluctantly opened the door all the way so the police officer could enter through. Once she had, Red closed the door once more and motioned for her to follow behind into the kitchen. Since it was apparent that the woman wasn't leaving any time soon, Red went to start a kettle of tea. The only thing that would keep her from falling asleep.
As the kettle heated up, Red turned back to the officer who'd been eyeing the room in a suspicious manner. Arms crossed over her chest. She shifted her gaze and found the teen girls had taken occupancy at the table, clearly intrigued by the presence of the officer as well. Eyes returned onto that very person seconds later. "What's the reason for this? I haven't done anything against the law and neither have my girls," she said, pointing between herself and the two at the table.
"Is there a Lorna Morello in your house tonight?" The woman inquired, returning Mrs. Reznikov's hard glance with one of her own. She hadn't taken lightly to people who questioned her authority the way the middle aged woman seemed to be with that attitude of hers. Her eyes averted over to the two young girls who occupied the circular table clear on the other side of the kitchen. One of them must have been her, she deemed.
Instinctively, upon hearing her name come from the officer's mouth, Lorna crouched down in her chair. The knot that had previously sat in the pit of her stomach effortlessly intensified now. She swallowed thickly, focusing her stare on her feet below. They kicked nervously at the floor. Either the officer was there to inform her Mr. Morello was dead or it had to be because of her foster family; those were the only two possible reasons Lorna could think of as to why the police would possibly be after her.
Red watched Lorna with concerned eyes. And, naturally, her protective maternal nature strengthened. The arms that were already folded over her chest remained in such position, tightening a tad. She fixed her gaze back on the cop in front of her, looking her over uneasily. "Why? Did you really just come to my house at this hour to ask me if my daughter's girlfriend is here? I don't understand," the frustration wasn't able to be kept in any longer, it inflected through her voice rather heavily.
"I'm gonna need you to take that attitude of yours down several notches, ma'am." A hand was held up to emphasize her point.
Yet again, Red stood shocked at this woman's nerve to speak to her with such an arrogancy about her. The tea kettle beeped, which interjected her before she could respond—something she was grateful for because she had the urge to say some choice words that easily would have had her hauled to jail, she knew.
After she'd gotten herself a mug of tea, she returned to stand a few feet away from the officer. Her teeth gritted together to keep her from saying anything stupid. "Well, can ya just explain why you're here looking for Lorna?" She took a sip of tea and added an exaggerated, "Please," as if it would soften her words.
The blonde-haired woman gave a curt nod despite the sense of hindrance this Russian lady was giving her. To ease the throbbing between her temples, she reached a hand up to rub at them. "Since you said please I guess I can do that," she coolly answered, looking down at the notepad in her hands briefly. "Lorna Morello is missing from her foster family's house, they called in an hour ago. And the chip shows she is at your house, Miss—"
"Mrs. Reznikov," Red sharply corrected. The hell was this officer on about? Chip? Chip for what? The queries ran through her mind as she brought her tea up for a second sip.
Ignoring the sharpness in her voice, the officer only nodded and shifted her eyes back onto the girls at the table. An eyebrow arched up inquisitively. "Which one of you is Lorna?"
A gulp was made in Lorna's mouth. She bit down on her bottom lip and momentarily fixed her eyes on the wall straight in front of her. Mind trying to piece together what chip this cop was referring to. The hell did that even mean? She squinted as if that would make things any easier to comprehend. Not surprisingly, it did nothing of the sort. Her brained remained confused over the disclosure.
Nervously, she gradually moved her head in the direction of the blonde officer and looked her over in a timid manner. "What chip? What's that mean, chip?"
Protective instincts taking over, Nicky wrapped an arm securely around Lorna's shoulder which naturally caused her to be pulled closer. Her mouth was kept shut but her eyes peered the unfamiliar woman up and down quite deliberately. She tightened her arm around her girlfriend and allowed her own head to rest overtop of the other's. Confusion etched on her face matching that of Lorna's to a T. Had Lorna been chipped or something? The mental query had her eyebrows twitching. That sounded majorly fucked up in her mind.
"You must be Lorna, is that correct?" When a shaky nod was received, the officer let out a breath and recoiled her shoulders. "Yeah, Mrs. Chapman informed me she put some kind of tracking chip in your shoes and that's how we were able to find exactly where you were at." She chewed a couple of times on the piece of gum in her mouth before going on further. "Kind of creepy if you ask me but to each their own."
Lorna sucked on her lower lip and said nothing. Too upset and hurt to even find the proper words to speak. Betrayed might have been a better descriptor for what she felt at that particular moment. Betrayed that her foster family would do something to her shoes—her property—without even asking her. Without ever bringing it up to her. She bit down on her tongue, shaking her head distastefully. Celeste had been right about Carol, she thought—Carol was the snob bitch. Emphasis on bitch, Lorna bitterly determined.
Red matched Lorna's head shake with one of her own between sips of tea. She stood with her hand on her hip, slightly leaning against the kitchen counter. Moving her eyes off the brunette, she focused on the blonde once more and grunted out a breath. "I'd say that's pretty damn creepy of Mrs. Chapman to do something like that," the comment came through grinding teeth. After setting her mug on the countertop behind her, she used that hand to slick back her tousled sleep hair. "Well, now that we got that all sorted, I think it's about time you left. My girls and I have to be up for school in two hours, after all. No sense in making Lorna leave at this late hour."
Anxious to get out of there and exasperated with having to deal with Mrs. Reznikov's attitude, the woman nodded agreeably. Even though, out of spite for Red's constant snippiness she had the longing to do the opposite, she chose to refrain that and started slowly heading towards the archway which led back to the living room where the front door was. "I'll let the Chapmans know their foster daughter is safe and sound. But," her eyes shifted sternly onto the brunette, "next time tell your damn guardians' where you are so this doesn't repeat itself."
School was a dreaded occurrence the next morning, which, was only three hours later from the police officer incident. Lorna held on tighter to the blankets when her face felt the brightness of the room light soaking into her skin. She grumbled at the sensation. A headache had formed between the temples of her forehead and all she yearned to do was hide her face in the pillow beneath her head and go back to sleep. Negativity suddenly loomed over her and everything felt meaningless to her. She couldn't find the point in getting up, the point in going to school just to be bullied by Annalisa or the point in breathing another day on this fucked up planet. This fucked up planet that took her mom away from her and left her with an abusive father. An abusive father who's life would be determined by her decision. Another reason which encouraged her staying in bed was the best option. If she remained asleep, she wouldn't have to think about any of that shit.
However her desire to stay where she was had soon been halted by the gentle patting of her head. She refused to move and the patting continued. Lips were soon felt at the edge of her ear, yet, she remained in her current position. Her face pressed into the pillow below, wishing it would whisk her away to a more pleasant place. A place where there was no more suffering to go through. Where she'd reunite with her mother and everything would normalize once more. She pressed harder onto the pillow. An automatic, subconscious, movement. She felt tempted to push harder, to let the cotton of the case covering it to suck in all the air around her. Suffocate her of life. But she refrained.
Nicky situated herself on the edge of the bed, having noticed her girlfriend hadn't gotten up yet, and tried to lovingly entice her out of her slumber. One of her hands rubbed slowly up and down her back while she placed her mouth softly above Lorna's ear, "It's time to get up, kid. Usually it's you having to wake me, yeah?" A warm chuckle followed. Lorna was quite a natural morning person, Nicky came to realize the more sleepovers they had, so to see her resisting getting out of bed now came as a surprise to her.
She had expected to hear a laugh or giggle to come from the brunette but observed that her light-hearted comment only had her burrowing deeper into the pillow and comforter. A frown quickly molded onto Nicky's face. She felt a heap of air expel through her lungs and threw her arms securely around Lorna's back, trying to pull her up. "Come on, doll, we gotta get up and ready for school. I know school sucks, I don't wanna go either but Red'll have our hides if we skip."
"Red has a cup of coffee waiting for you," Nicky murmured warmly into the ear her mouth still hovered above. "And she has a nice breakfast spread on the table. Come on, let's get you ready. So we can have time to enjoy a coffee, yeah? Maybe if we talk to ma we can get her to maybe let us skip our first class. We could go to the coffee shop and have a fancy one."
Despite Nicky's efforts to entice Lorna up and out of the bed, none of it worked. Lorna only grumbled out a groan and grabbed the comforter to pull over her head so that Nicky couldn't see her. She wanted to disappear. To cease to exist. Feelings that were foreign to her but now were all too consuming. It made her wish today was Wednesday and not Tuesday. She didn't know if she'd make it to Wednesday anymore. Wednesday was so far away. So unbelievably far away. Lorna couldn't survive until then. Not with all the feelings and thoughts eating at her brain. Even coffee hadn't the ability to bring her out of this haze. And coffee was one of the few things that brought her genuine happiness. She swallowed hard to realize her beloved beverage wasn't enough. Maybe this was the end of her, she thought. The true demise of Lorna Morello.
A throbbing ache gradually strengthened through Nicky's chest. She didn't like seeing her Lorna in this way. There was something blatantly wrong. Something serious, she noted. Lorna wasn't herself. Grant it, she certainly seen Lorna not herself countless other times but something about this one didn't seem the same. It left a bad taste in her mouth. An eerie sense in her path. She didn't know what to do or how to respond to her girlfriend's worrying behavior.
All Nicky could think of was to curl up on the bed beside her and worm her way under the covers so she could pull Lorna into her arms. And once she had her in them, she turned her around in order to peer her straight in the eyes. "What's wrong?" She pressed her forehead over Lorna's and swallowed a lump at the dark circles highlighting the flesh under her eyelids. Those circles hadn't changed since the last time she'd seen her. The fact only intensified her worry.
"I'll tell you what's wrong," she said before Lorna had the chance to even open her mouth. Nicky placed a thumb on one of the darkened circles and stroked its flesh softly. "You're not taking care of yourself, babe. That's what's wrong. These circles under your eyes are so dark they're nearly black. What's going on? Tell me. Lorna, I'm worried about you. Really worried, doll. You gotta talk to me. I need you to. Something's not right. Something hasn't been right since we met. What is it?"
Something wasn't right, Lorna mentally agreed. Something wasn't right at all. Tears formed at the brim of her eyes and despite her efforts at holding them in, they broke free and ran down along her cheeks. Cheeks so pale from her own poor nutrition that they were merely transparent. Something hadn't been right for a very long time. And that something, she acknowledged, that something was her. She wasn't right. A hard swallow. She wasn't right.
"Something isn't right," Lorna repeated, her voice quiet and merely robotic. "That something is me, hon. I am not right."