Quick Author's Note: I just want to thank everyone who's still reading this story. It truly means a lot to me; I didn't expect it to be read at all, honestly, since I abandoned it for a year.
Chapter Seventeen
The later it grew the less motivation Lorna had to head back home. Albeit Nicky's leaving a half hour ago, she stayed back in an attempt to put off going to deal with her uncle. She couldn't face that man again, certainly not after last night. She shuttered at the memory. It must have been later than she thought when she noticed the barista turning off the lights behind the pastry counters. A knot slowly formed in her stomach. That meant she had to start heading back home. Home, she thought, more like prison.
"Shop closes in about ten minutes," the black-haired woman informed her. She gathered the keys from the counter, throwing her handbag over her shoulder and started locking up all the drawers.
Lorna swallowed hard; she fumbled through her purse for her phone and flipped it open to see the time. It was almost ten o'clock she realized and exhaled sharply. She had a hunch that her uncle probably wouldn't be happy with her when she arrived home. Her mind desperately raced for a way to halt having to go back. Her eyes widened once an inclination came over her. "I can help clean up if ya need it," she offered, frantically hoping the other would agree.
The offer brought a friendly smile to Alex's face as she started in on washing the small pile of dishes. Albeit the smile, she shook her head and poked her face from behind the sink in the back area. "I appreciate the offer, kid, but only employees can be back here to clean."
"Well, I mean, I could use a job—can I become an employee here?"
Chuckling faintly at the comment, the dark haired woman only shrugged. "That would be up to the manager here but you're probably not even old enough to apply, yeah? How old are ya?"
"Why, how old ya gotta be to work here? I mean my sista, Franny, works here," Lorna pointed out, hoping that would somehow aid in her receiving employment.
"Sixteen at the very least. Well, yeah, that's because she's older than sixteen."
Lorna sighed, realizing she wasn't going to be getting a job any time soon. She knew the longer she stayed there stalling the inevitable, the more likely things would only worsen for her when she finally did arrive back home. "But I'm fifteen, isn't that close enough?" It wouldn't hurt to try at least one more time, she decided as she ignored her intuition.
Alex only shook her head. Though she admired the young teen's persistence, it wasn't her place to be hiring or not hiring anyone. She placed the washed dishes onto the drying pad on the right of the sink. "I'm not the manager so I can't help ya. But no, fifteen is not close enough. It's getting late anyway, shouldn't you be heading home? Speaking of, how're ya gonna get home? You obviously can't drive."
"I'm walking home, it's good exercise," was Lorna's response, letting her shoulders bounce up in a shrug. Maybe it wasn't the safest for her to be walking back in the dark but she surely wasn't about to ring her uncle to get her. Plus, the walk would give her time to prepare herself.
Arching her eyebrows, the older girl gave her an indecipherable stare. At that time of night—especially in the small city—it certainly wasn't the most ideal notion for anyone to be walking the streets—even less so for a young teenage girl. And hearing Lorna's plan, Alex hadn't been too keen on allowing her to do that. Not only for the teen's sake but also because she worked with her older sister and would be damned if she unintentionally let harm come to her by not stopping her from walking the streets at such a late hour.
"It's also pitched black out," Alex pointed out, pushing her glasses up with her index finger. "I don't feel comfortable letting you walk home this late, honestly, kid."
Pushing a strand of hair away from her eyes, the brunette shrugged once more. It hadn't seemed like a big deal to her. Walking the streets this time of night was probably safer than spending the night in the same place as Mendez, she supposed. "I'll be fine."
The other shook her head; there was no way she was risking it. If she just let her go and something ended up happening, the guilt would be too much. She finished cleaning up behind the counter and grabbed her things from the cubby before making her way to the front of the coffee shop. Her hand waved at Lorna, gesturing for her to follow. "I'll drive ya home. It's the safest option. Just let me know the address."
Hoping, as she tiptoed inside, that her uncle had already gone to bed, she learnt quickly that her hope wasn't anything more than a hope. She caught sight of him half asleep on the recliner, surrounded by several empty beer bottles. That made her question if alcoholism ran in the family. She shook her head in dismay, trying to walk without sound. It seemed to work seeing that she was halfway up the stairs. But then something fell and clacked rather loudly against the wooden floor. She shut her eyes in irritation, using one hand to slick back her hair.
Mendez stirred in his sleep; his hands moving for the remote on the coffee table. He muted it and turned towards where the noise came from. His eyes quickly landed on the petite, slender, frame of his youngest niece. A hungry smirk shaped onto his face. But quickly the smirk was replaced with a distasteful scowl as he remembered just how late she'd been from school. He shook his head angrily, sitting up and kicking the reclining chair back to an upright position.
"And just where the hell have you been, little princess?" Knowing how much the nickname bothered her encouraged him to use it even more for her. His arms were folded over his chest as he glared the young teen over.
Little princess. Each time he referred to her as such she felt as though she was going to throw up. The name made her mentally and physically cringe. She shifted her feet in an uncomfortable silence while grappling the wooden rail even tighter. "Nowhere—I just came down for a glass a water," the lie came out without her even needing to think about it. She kept her eyes on the railing—she couldn't bare to look at the man sitting down there, if he could even be considered one.
That was an obvious fib, Mendez easily picked up on—he may have been slightly buzzed from the four beers he drank but he clearly remembered Lorna not coming home after the school day ended. Anger rose within. He didn't like being lied to. "You think I'm stupid?" his voice boomed through the room. He stood up from the recliner and started walking up the stairs behind the young girl. When she started running up the rest of the way, he grabbed her from behind and pushed her so that she tripped and smashed her face against the hard ground.
No sooner she got herself back up, she felt her uncle's cold, grimy, hands yanking at her from behind and nearly dragging her up the rest of the way. The skin beneath her nose felt sticky and slightly wet and when she looked behind her, she noticed the blood stains on the spot where she fell. She pieced it all together and concluded that the fall—thanks to her uncle—and collision of her face against the wood floor caused her a bloody nose.
The blood stained floor didn't go unnoticed by Mendez. However, instead of showing any compassion or concern, he only dragged her the rest of the way through the hall to her bedroom. "Now you're really in for it," he yelled, throwing her roughly against the mattress of her bed and hovering over top of her. "First I'm gonna fucking have my way with ya, little princess, and then you're cleaning that blood up. After the damn stunt you pulled today, that's the least ya can do. You're lucky the punishment isn't any harsher."
School was a relief to Lorna. Even after the incident yesterday, school still was a much a better place to be than stuck in that house with her uncle. Yet, before she could even start in the direction of her first class, she needed to stop in the restroom. She hadn't thought it was possible to feel even dirtier and nastier than the first time but clearly it was. Her uncle turned her into a sick, disgusting, used whore. She was embarrassed, ashamed—disgusted of the person she seemed to be turning into.
She cautiously entered into the bathroom and when she passed the row of mirrors that lined the walls in front of the stalls, she quickly glanced at her reflection. What she saw nauseated her. It gave her even more initiative to enter inside one of those stalls. And she did so without another thought; it brought her comfort the second she locked the door. She knelt on the ground—albeit how many germs were surely embedded into the tiles beneath her—and bent her head over the toilet. Her hand rapidly grabbed the toothbrush from her purse and got to work at ridding herself of anything and everything that was inside of her.
The sound of her retching echoed rather loudly through the room. It was so loud that Lorna only hoped there was no one else in the room. She didn't need anyone to know about her little secret. However, the sound of footsteps on the other side of the stall formed a lump in the pit of her stomach. She hurriedly flushed the toilet and threw the toothbrush back in her purse. Her cheeks flushed bright red, a mixture of shame and anxiety. She moved to sit on the toilet, pulling her legs up in case whoever was in there tried searching through the stalls.
A silent breath escaped her; she wondered how long it would take before whoever was on the other side finally left.
"Oh no I know someone's in here," the voice called out coolly. "And I ain't leaving til' ya come out."
Lorna closed her eyes and rubbed at her temples. She knew exactly who that voice belonged to—Annalisa. Knowing the person who heard her purging was her bully only worsened her shame. There was no way she could exit that stall with her outside of it. She crouched back even further—which was near impossible with how far she'd already been ducked on the seat—as if that alone would magically make the other disappear from the room.
Her refusal to leave the stall did nothing but add fuel to Annalisa's anger. She could hear her footsteps seemingly walking back and forth in front of the row of stalls. A lump formed in her stomach; she realized even if she stayed in there without a sound, soon enough the other girl would figure out she was there. Her stomach churned at the thought. As if Annalisa needed any more reason to torment her.
"I'll just kick the stall doors until I find you," the blonde informed her. She slammed her hand roughly against the metal frames of each door.
With a breath of hesitation, Lorna very slowly got up from the toilet and reached her hand to place on the lock. She stood there momentarily frozen. The idea of opening that door and coming face-to-face with Annalisa, of all people, made her want to hover over that toilet for a second round. However, she sucked in a breath and finally pushed open the stall to slowly exit out of.
Realizing the culprit of the retching to be Lorna, the blonde couldn't help but snicker. It didn't surprise her at all to know her little, petite, classmate was a bulimic. In fact, it made sense and surely gave Annalisa even more advantage. She leaned against the stall while her blue eyes peered menacingly over the smaller teen. "What were ya doing in there, hmm?"
"I was going to the bathroom—what else would I be doing?" Lorna meekly answered, walking past her and over to the sink to wash her hands.
A chuckle bolted up from the taller teen's windpipe. She kept her stance against the metal frame of the stall behind her and brought her arms up to fold over her chest. "Yeah right," her voice mocked; she placed a finger into her mouth as if to gag herself. "You were throwing up, I'm not deaf or stupid."
Lorna swallowed a relatively large amount of saliva, shifting her feet uncomfortably. "Yeah, uh, because I was sick. Will ya just leave me alone?"
How easily it was for her to cause distress to Lorna fashioned a rather hefty grin onto Annalisa's face. It proved exactly how much power she had over the younger teen. She was pleased with herself for that. "Oh yeah, you're sick alright—sick in the head," she retorted with a laugh, moving her finger to the top of her head and patting it in a taunting manner.
"You forced yourself to throw up and you should keep it up. Your clothes look too tight. Maybe try laxatives while you're at it, you need all the help you can get."
Before she even had a chance to absorb any of what was said to her to form some sort of response back, she watched as the blonde shoved at her on her way out of the bathroom. Left alone, Lorna turned back to face the mirror. Her eyes searched every inch of her body, focusing in on the fat that seemed to cluster around her waist and abdomen. That sight only confirmed Annalisa's words. She needed to keep the new purging routine going to get rid of all the fat that seemed to reside on her body.
"Don't listen to that girl," a familiar voice called out, immediately pulling Lorna from her thoughts.
The interruption brought her back to reality—which she was grateful for—and she twisted around to see it was the janitor from the day before. Without even a thought, she felt a small smile appear on her face. She felt safe in the older woman's presence, even more so then after hearing the words she just spoke. Her eyes watched as the dark-complected woman wiped down the mirrors. "Oh, uh, didn't even know anyone else was here."
Grabbing a paper towel from her supplies cart, Suzanne used it to carefully dry the solution from the reflective glass. She turned her head slightly to stare at the short brunette. "I was here long enough to hear what that little blondie was sayin' to ya and it wasn't very polite. Don't listen to a word she said, it's all nonsense."
"You should get some help, though, because it's not healthy to make yourself sick."
Lorna gave a frank nod despite the fact that she wasn't planning on doing that. There wasn't anything wrong with her behavior, she rationalized in her mind; no, no, it was only to help calm the emotions and anxiety occasionally. It was normal. And it wasn't like she did it that often, it was only done when needed.
The day passed on much quicker than she expected, and, thankfully, there was no further mention of her bathroom rendezvous from Annalisa. After she left the school, she made the semi-short walk back to her house. A decision she wasn't particularly enthused with but rather one that would benefit her more than anything else—in the sense that whatever her uncle had in store would not be worsened by her avoiding going home. At least that was what she was banking on.
Once she arrived inside the house, fifteen minutes after she began her walk, she was pleasantly surprised to see that the living room was empty. She hadn't a clue where her uncle had gone and didn't care too much either; she was only grateful to have some time without his presence. The house had a rather serene aura now that it was only Lorna there. She felt a sense of peace. With a smile, she set her school stuff aside and went off through the kitchen to the backdoor that led to their back porch.
A nice breeze came through the air as Lorna sat down on one of the semi-worn-out wicker chairs. The weather was still cold with snow drizzling here and there but the sun shined brightly in the sky. It impulsively sculpted a smile on her face. She sat there, kicked up her feet on the plastic end table that she previously moved in front of her, and let her face soak up the sunlight. Birds chirped in the background, a sound she treasured. She soon became mesmerized by the sun's beams pouring through the branches of a tree with a pair of red cardinals perching on one.
Loud banging on the door brought her out of the peaceful daze rapidly. It was loud but she could tell it wasn't from the door behind her once she opened it and saw no one standing there. She quickly walked back inside and pushed through to the front door in the living room. It certainly wouldn't be Mendez, she conferred since he had a key. She arched her eyebrows in wonder. Yet, once she opened it and seen Nicky there before her, she felt a bout of concern.
"Nicky? I wasn't expecting ya," she softly greeted, letting her brown eyes look her over attentively. There was something blatantly off with her, she silently noted. "What brings you here, hon?"
Relieved that Lorna was there to answer her frantic knocking on the door, Nicky gripped the strap of her satchel anxiously. Her eyes were faintly bloodshot as she returned the younger girl's gaze. Though her father wasn't as awful as Marka, their relationship wasn't any better either. Of course, he wasn't mean or abusive or anything of that nature but he certainly had little interest in her life. And that only continued to enforce the thought that she was truly unwanted—that if her own parents hadn't wanted her then obviously no one else would either.
The more she focused on Nicky, the easier it was for her to pick up on the strained aura that seemed to emanate from her. She stepped back slightly from the door and used her hands to motion for her friend to come in. Her eyes observed her as she complied and entered in the house. She led them up to her room, to avoid her uncle in case he came back, and the two of them sat on the pale pink cashmere rug that was placed on the floor in front of Lorna's bed.
Nicky situated herself so that she was sitting crossed-legged. Her hands grasped onto the faux fur of the rug underneath them, allowing her fingers to brush small strands back and forth. "I needed to get away from my dad—he has a new girlfriend and obviously that's what's most important to him. I just can't deal with it anymore," she stated while shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, hon." Lorna murmured, gently reaching a hand over to cover atop the redhead's. She brushed her thumb soothingly over her knuckles, gazing at her with a softness lurking in her brown eyes. "You've been cryin', haven't ya? Wanna talk about it?"
"Thanks, kid," the older teen replied, squeezing the hand that held hers gently. Her head shook slightly at the question. Crying was most definitely not an activity Nicky took part in in the past twenty-four hours. She swallowed a small amount of saliva. Clearly, it was evident that she had bloodshot eyes—and Lorna being the naïve, sweet, friend that she was acquainted that to having cried. That was not the culprit, however. Nicky grabbed onto the small baggie in her skort's pocket.
"Nah, I have not been crying at all."
The statement had Lorna's eyebrows curved inquisitively. She kept her hold on the other's hand, now stroking her thumb delicately around her palm. "Are ya sure? Your eyes are all red. Are you okay?"
It always warmed her heart how caring Lorna was—especially when it was directed towards her. Given the situation between she and her parents, Nicky was unfamiliar with being cared for or about. Naturally, then, anytime Lorna asked about her or sought to comfort her in some way, it filled her with a warm and fuzzy sensation. A foreign sense to her.
And, because of how kind Lorna was to her, she knew she had to be honest with her—she didn't want to ever do anything to jeopardize the relationship they shared. So, with a long sigh, she took the baggie from her pocket and held it up to Lorna. "This is the reason my eyes are so red right now," she told her, slightly wagging the plastic entrapment in front of her.
