Disclaimer: The Loud House and associated characters belong to Nickelodeon and Chris Savino.

Who Love Chooses

By Lola Presents

Chapter 2

Lori Loud had just entered the Casagrande's loft, where she and Lorianne now lived, along with the remaining family, minus Ronnie Anne. She carried three bags full of groceries, stuffed so wholly that the contents nearly spilled over the edges.

After kicking the door shut, she shuffled to the table, placed the packages down, and glanced around. Nobody seemed to be around, which was odd. Lalo lay upon his fart-pillow sleeping soundly, and Sergio was sitting on his perch.

"Lorianne!" she called down the hall. "Care to help put things away?"

Lori began shuttling between the living room and kitchen table, putting the frozen items in the freezer. After a minute, she realized Lorianne had never responded.

"Where is that girl?" she mumbled before heading toward what used to be Ronnie Anne's room and knocking on the door.

When no answer came, Lori turned the knob and entered to find her child asleep at her desk. Lorianne still had a pencil in hand, and her forehead now bore the markings from her paper. Lori smirked as her daughter reminded her of herself at that age, complete with earbuds and random songs playing on her phone. Lori gently nudged her child, pulling the listening devices wh from her ears.

"Lorianne, honey," Lori spoke softly. "You fell asleep again. Take a minute, and then come help put away the groceries, alright."

Lorianne sat up, rubbed her face, and then blinked her eyes a few times to prevent further sleep.

"Okay. I be there in a minute ago," the girl responded. "I has to stuff away my homeworks."

Time has not diminished Lorianne's problem with speech. While she certainly learned new words every day, they fell subject to the same fundamental inconsistencies that the ones she already knew did. Some felt her idiosyncrasies were cute. Others did not.

"By the way, where is everyone?" asked Lori.

"Me don't know, mommy," Lorianne responded. "They just gone when I camed here from school."

Lori nodded satisfactorily, then returned to her task, worried about her child. Lorianne began experiencing anxiety over the last year and not sleeping well. Lori tried everything, including prescription sleep aids, but nothing seemed to work. Now, the Casagrandes had left her alone.

Lori had only reached the kitchen when the doorbell rang. She conferred with her watch, which showed eight in the evening-what an odd time for a visit.

"Hello?" Lori inquired, opening the door to reveal someone she vaguely recognized.

"I'm sorry to bother you this late at night, but I need your assistance," the man announced, taking off a fedora.

Lori closed the door a little but didn't close it completely.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" she asked the man.

"Pardon me, the hour got my manners," he said. "My name is detective Bryce. We've met before, briefly. I handled your brother's case."

Lori squinted her eyes, wondering what could be wrong now. They sorted everything out long ago. Hadn't they?

"I don't understand," said Lori, shaking her head and reopening the door. "Has something changed? They didn't let her out, did they?"

"Oh, no, not at all," Bryce continued. "She's still serving a thirty-year sentence for attempted murder. However, another matter has arisen, not entirely unrelated. May I enter? There's something important we need to discuss."

"Oh, yes. Sure. Come on in," Lori said, stepping away from the door.

As they arrived in the living room, Lorianne was busy fetching things from the bags, carrying them to the kitchen, and stuffing them in whatever cabinet had room for them.

"And this is..." Bryce prompted, nodding toward Lorianne.

"Right, this is Lorianne, my daughter," Lori told the man. "I forgot she was with me the night we met. But she was only seven then."

Bryce nodded. "She's certainly grown. However, I think it best if you see this alone. Would you mind..."

"Um, okay," Lori mumbled, growing more confused by the minute. "Lorianne, dear, you can finish that later. The detective and I need to talk in private."

"Ooh! A defective!" exclaimed Lorianne. "What you did, mom, taked this food?"

Ever vigilant, Lori corrected her child, "it's detective, honey, not defective, now run along," and the twelve-year-old left quietly, pouting the entire way.

After the girl exited, Bryce pulled a small laptop and an envelope from his briefcase and set them before Lori, who eyed them with confusion and growing concern.

"Mrs. Santiago," Bryce addressed Lori. "As you may know, we monitor all outgoing mail from the prison. Recently, we intercepted a disturbing correspondence from Ronnie Anne, with whom I am sure you are familiar.

Lori's eyes narrowed. "Why would I want to read anything that bitch wrote?" demanded Lori, pushing the letter away.

"Please," begged Bryce. "There may be more at stake here than feelings." he continued, nodding upwards. "Your daughter might be in danger, or worse, the victim of a crime."

Lori frowned but understood. Picking up the envelope, she removed two pieces of paper and began reading.

"Dear Lori," it began. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but I beg of you, please continue reading. I've had several years to think about what I did and why. Therapy has helped, but things are still not settled. I am not asking for your forgiveness, but there is something you should know. In my room, under the dresser, you'll find my electronic notebook. There is a folder called 'Insurance' on it. Inside are some videos. Please watch them. Continue to the second letter only after you have seen the videos."

Lori looked up at the detective quizzically. "Is this the notebook?" she asked timidly, unsure if she wished to continue.

Bryce nodded. "Yes. However, it would help the investigation if you saw things for yourself. I am going to warn you now, though. What you are about to see will be highly upsetting. I urge you to remain calm for your daughter's sake."

Lori pensively nodded as Bryce opened the small laptop and navigated to the indicated folder. Selecting a random video out of hundreds of entries, he queued it up and turned the machine back toward Lori.

"Press play whenever you're ready," the man said.

Lori stared at the thumbnail, which showed Ronnie Anne standing in her nightgown by her bed, facing away from the camera. It was relatively dark, but the street light was enough to illuminate the room.

She studied the image as her finger moved the pointer over the play button. There, she hesitated. Something wasn't right. Why would Ronnie Anne film herself sleep? Lori briefly peered up at the detective, who bore a solemn expression. The man nodded, urging her on, and Lori finally pressed play.

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, the noise of a door creaking open sounded, and a sliver of light burned its way through the girl, growing ever more expansive as the door creaked ominously.

A man's shadow appeared in the light beam, and Lori jumped as if watching a horror movie. Slowly the figure entered the room and closed the door. Ronnie grasped the flaps of her robe and closed them tightly around her. She was around twelve or thirteen years old, fourteen at the latest.

"Please?" Ronnie begged, not looking at the figure. "Not tonight…"

"Shut up and get *hic* undressed," came Bobby's voice, clearly intoxicated. "You know what I'm here for."

Lori's eyes widened in disbelief. That couldn't be her husband, could it?

"Please? No..." Ronnie cried, letting her robe fall to the floor before stripping off her panties. "Why do you keep doing this? I hate you!"

"Keep quiet, or you'll be sorry," snarled Bobby, stepping into view behind his sister. He was shirtless, his brown pants undone, and his belt was hanging by his sides.

Forcefully, Bobby turned his weeping sister around and shoved her backward onto the bed. Then, he lifted Ronnie Anne's legs and parted them before thrusting himself into her.

Ronnie's face contorted in pain and sorrow as her brother bore down upon her. Lori watched with a blank, emotionless face as Bobby raped Ronnie Anne repeatedly, then slammed the laptop shut.

"I don't want to see anymore," Lori eked out through the swamp of tears flowing down her cheeks. Her eyes were already bloodshot and puffy. "I…" was all she could say.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Santiago," Bryce said in as warm a tone as he could muster. "I realize it was difficult to watch, but this was at Ronnie Anne's request. She said it would help you understand the second letter."

"First, don't ever call me Santiago again! I'm Lori Loud!" Lori screamed at the top of her lungs. "I'm going to beat the ever-loving shit out of him when he gets home!"

"Please, restrain yourself," Bryce encouraged the angry woman. "You might alarm Lorianne. We already have him in custody. Please, read the second letter."

That explained the Casagrande's absence; they were probably down at the station, having left before Lorianne returned home from school. Still, that didn't excuse not leaving somebody here to care for her.

Lori then focused on the second page of Ronnie Anne's letter. Snatching it violently off the table, Lori brought it before her face and began reading.

"Pretty gross, huh? I am sorry you had to see that. While you were going to college, Bobby would get lonely and drink a lot. Soon, he turned his frustration on me, and I was too small to fight back. Bobby threatened to hurt me if I said anything, so I didn't. Later, when I heard Lincoln was in a relationship with Lola, I concluded that he was doing the same thing to her that Bobby did to me. A brother I did not love was raping me, while the man I loved was raping his sister. At least, that's what I thought at the time. Still, Bobby was family, and I didn't think anyone would believe me, so I lashed out at the only person I could. Lincoln. Please believe me, I am very sorry for everything, and I am paying the price. I only wish I had been stronger. I showed you this to warn you. Lorianne is getting older, and I fear he may do the same to her. All it would take is a bad night, some alcohol, and an opportunity. Please, keep my niece safe. Oh, and tell Lame-o I'm sorry. Ronnie Anne."

Lori laid the letter down and quietly stood up. She then walked around the table and stared at the evening sky through the window. Lori wrapped one arm around her waist to support her other arm as she held up her weary head, sobbing steadily but quietly.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do now?" she uttered to the universe.

"Mom?" came a plaintive voice from the hallway. "Is all the things okay?"

Suddenly, Lori ran to her baby and hugged her tightly, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

"No, honey, all the things are not okay," she replied. "Da… your father has done something terrible."

Lori then pulled away and held Lorianne at arm's length, looking right into her eyes.

"Honey, I need to ask you something, alright?" Lori spoke softly, thinking back to her daughter's anxiety and issue with sleep. "The nice policeman and I need to know something. Has daddy hurt you recently?"

"Hurted?" asked Lorianne. "Like how?"

Lori had always been forward and honest with her daughter. But the most critical question in the world was getting caught in her throat. However, remembering what Bobby had done to Ronnie Anne bolstered her resolve. Lori lowered her brow and peered thoughtfully at her daughter.

"Like, in your special place?" she asked motherly.

Lorianne's head dropped, and she began crying.

"Some of the times," she admitted. "But only when me is bad."

Lori began weeping once more and pulled her daughter into a tight hug.

"Oh, baby," Lori cried. "You could never be that bad. Nobody could. What he did to you was unforgivable."

Lorianne clung to her mother as months of abuse spilled out of her. The two remained intertwined for some time before the relative silence broke.

"Well," announced Bryce as he packed his things and stood up. "I have what I need for now. I'll be in touch soon, though. The district attorney will probably want a statement from you to bring more charges."

Lori nodded, but that was it, and the detective showed himself from their apartment.

"Baby," Lori addressed her child. "I need you to go pack everything you own. We're leaving."

Wiping her eyes clear, the little girl nodded.

"Okay, Mom," she muttered, sadly dragging herself down the hall.

Lori ran to her room and started tossing things out of the closet. Locating two large suitcases, she placed them on the bed and began stuffing everything she could into them.

When she finished, she went to Lorianne's room and helped her fill the second suitcase. Soon, they left the loft for the last time, rushing down the stairs and out of the building.

Lori threw their cases into the backseat of the fixer-upper she purchased from Mr. Grouse some years back, not wanting to waste time fumbling with the keys while attempting to open the trunk.

Lorianne climbed into the front passenger seat, and Lori buckled her in, then bolted to the other side and got in. For once, the engine turned over on the first try, and they rolled out into the street.

"Where we go at, Mom?" asked Lorianne, tears still falling despite slowing down.

Lori sniffled and wiped her nose as she pulled onto the highway.

"I don't know, baby," Lori told her. "But right now, there's somebody I need to see."

Lorianne nodded, and the hum of the road passing under the tires lulled Lorianne into sleep. Lori smiled as her baby slept peacefully for the first time in months.