Author's Note: Yesterday (August 9th, 2022) marked the two year anniversary of my grandmother's passing, unfortunately. I honestly still cannot fathom how it's been two years already - it feels like it was just yesterday that I lost her. Anyway, I just wanted to take time to state how amazing my beautiful grandma was and I know she's glad to be wherever her soul lives on at. So, in part of that (kind of anyway), this chapter is mainly a little memory/flashback of Lorna and her mom. But it does also serve a larger purpose than just being a reminiscent, semi-fluffy, piece.


Chapter Forty

With the scissors tightly grasped in her hands, Lorna meekly made her way nearer the door that led back out to the hallway. Her attention solely on the object in her hands, unaware that she still had two people witnessing each move she'd been making.

Observing Lorna's actions closely for the past several moments, Gloria had quickly acted when she saw the scissors in her possession and jumped up from her chair to stand over in front of her office door. Whatever the young girl was planning to do, she wasn't going to exit that room with sharp scissors in her hands. She guarded the door comparable to how a German shepherd guarded its owner's front yard. The second Lorna approached the spot right in front of her, she peered her over with a heap of compassion.

"Lorna, why do you have those scissors in your hand? And why are you ready to leave my office with them?" Gloria threw out her questions faster than she had intended but the worry that she felt took control of the conversation before she could stop it.

Nicky, who sat rather numbly in her chair right next to her girlfriend's empty one, watched the whole thing unfold in an unnerving manner. She rubbed at her eyes as if that would magically help her comprehend what she'd just witnessed. The second she caught Lorna's hand reaching for that damn pair of scissors her heart vastly plummeted into her stomach. She swallowed hard and turned her head in the direction of the school counselor and her girlfriend, desperately hoping that Mrs. Mendoza would be able to get through to her.

It was as though Lorna was entrapped inside of a glass cage because the voice that had clearly been speaking to her sounded muffled and much farther away than it actually was. She squinted her eyes while lifting her head to look up at the culprit of such noise, trying to piece together what was coming from her mouth. Her hand gripped tighter on the scissors, she grunted out a breath of air. All she wanted to do was escape through the door so she could be alone with the object she grasped. It was the only solution that seemed right to her at the time. The only way to ease the discomfort of all that was happening around her. Silence her mind, even.

Gloria waved a hand in her face when she realized the faint disorientation that appeared to ooze from it. "Lorna, are you hearing me? What are you doing with those scissors?"

Fixing her eyes on the knob of the door behind Gloria's back, the brunette bit down on her lower lip. How was she going to get a hold of that knob with her counselor standing right in the way of it? She swallowed a wad of saliva and moved her eyes slowly back onto the older woman. For a moment, she silently stood there probing her face and took a mental note of the genuine concern that sat upon it. That sight only made her bite down harder on her lip. She wasn't sure how to respond or even if she had the energy to form a coherent one.

The knob of that door was calling her name. Lorna closed her eyes and inhaled fiercely. She couldn't handle sitting in that office any longer listening to Mrs. Mendoza ask her questions that she knew she couldn't give proper answers for. It truly exhausted her physical and mental physique. "I don't know what you're talking about," the words automatically exited her mouth without her having a second to process them. She knew that had to be the absolute most absurd response she could possibly give. Clearly, she knew she had the scissors in her possession in that exact moment.

"It's like pulling teeth to get you to talk about anything, Lorna," Mrs. Mendoza muttered back, bringing her hands up to squeeze exasperatingly against her cheeks.


"God, Lorn, it's like I gotta pull teeth round' here just to get ya to tell me what's wrong," Stansie Morello declared as she stood in the doorway of her eleven-year-old daughter's room. Her hands were folded exhaustively along each of her hips as she peered through the room at the crying form that lied against the mattress of the bed.

The preteen child sniffled into the pillow beneath her face, letting her tears soak into its fabric. There was a moistness on the crotch of her pants and that only made her cry harder. She felt so out of control as she lain there in a puddle of tears and her own urine. While her mother watched over her from the archway of her bedroom door. It took her several moments to calm her crying enough that she was able to turn to look at Mrs. Morello. Her eyes now sat red and puffy with tears pouring lesser and lesser from them.

Stansie took the child's shift in position as her hint to walk fully into the room. She came in and sat down on the mattress beside her daughter's face. Within seconds she realized there was a slight wetness seeping up to her and immediately stood right back up. Her eyes peered widely down at Lorna, "Why is your bed wet? Have ya started your first period, perhaps?"

Cheeks instantly reddening, Lorna bowed her head in shame. She wasn't sure if her cheeks were red from her mother's assuming she had finally hit puberty or if it was the extreme guilt that appeared to be eating at her. Either way, there was an uneasiness that now loomed through her room. "I, um, I had an accident. I-I'm sorry, mom," she nearly choked on a sob that came whirling up from her throat.

"An accident," the older brunette repeated with an unreadable expression.

She sighed. That was the second time in the same week Lorna had informed her of having an accident. Something wasn't adding up, she thought, and trying to get her daughter to open up about what was bothering her proved to be near impossible. Her husband certainly hadn't been any help in that department, either. It had appeared he didn't even care that there was something clearly going on with their child and Stansie couldn't understand why not.

Tuning back into the current situation, Stansie held up a hand and motioned for Lorna to get out of the bed. "Come on, ya needa put on clean clothes. You'll end up with a rash if ya stay in those. I'll throw your bedsheets in the wash and then when you're changed, come downstairs and sit in the kitchen with me. We need to have a talk, hon."


While Lorna worked on changing into a fresh pair of pajamas, Stansie took the bedsheets with her out of the room and down the stairs in leu of the laundry room that was right off the kitchen. Once she had them in the washing machine and turned it on, she stopped back in the living room where her husband lazily reclined on that damn reclining chair of his. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head. All he seemed to care about lately was gluing his eyes to that fucking TV screen.

She cleared her throat, walking over to grab the remote off of the end-table that was beside the chair Joe sat in. Clicking the television off, she peered darkly down at the man. Her arms crossed tiredly over her chest. "We have a problem here, Joe," she informed him, a seriousness emanating from her brown eyes.

"Yeah, yer right, we do gotta problem here," Mr. Morello agreed, pushing his feet roughly against the foot rest to pull the recliner back into an upright position. "I was in the middle of the Yankees game and ya just fuckin' shut it off on me. Now, turn the damn TV back on."

His response was all it took for the anger to display one Stansie's face. She gripped the remote tighter in her hands and shook her head profusely at her husband. "I don't give a shit about your damn Yankees game, Joe. The problem is our daughter—she keeps fucking having accidents in her bed. Do ya know how many loads a laundry I've had to do in the past week? We need to talk to Lorna and get to the bottom of this."

Joe threw his hands up in the air. "Lorna peed the bed again? Ya fuckin' kidding me? The hell's her problem, little twat. What we need to do is put the brat in diapers if she can't use the damn toilet like a normal person," he retorted while reaching for his beer that sat on the coaster of the end table on the other side of his chair. He took a large swig of it and shook his head distastefully at his wife. His wife who, he deemed, babied their children way more than they needed to be.

"Would ya stop calling our daughter fucking names? She is a normal person, but obviously something's wrong and we need to talk to her about it. Are ya coming or not? And ya better not yell at her, Joe. You know damn well she doesn't respond to your damn yelling," Stansie assured him, rolling her eyes when she caught a glimpse of the beer in his hands. That was all he appeared to take an interest in those days, was beer and the fucking Yankees.

Taking another sip of his beverage, Mr. Morello shook his head and held his hand out. "You talk to her, I don't give a shit. Yer the one who wanted to fuckin' keep the damn brat when ya found out you got pregnant with her so she's yer problem. Give me the damn remote, now. Yer makin' me miss the fucking game. I swear to God if they lose, it's on you."

Stansie threw the remote at his head and peered furiously down at him. She couldn't understand what the hell happened to the man she married. Because the one who sat in that recliner certainly wasn't who she remembered reciting their vows to on their wedding day twenty years ago. "Fuck you, Joe. You're a real asshole lately," she bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from acting out on any of the emotions that swirled through her body.

"Real funny, Stansie. Ya haven't fucked me in months. Get outta here and leave me in peace," Joe yelled back, grabbing the remote from where it fell on his lap and turning the television back on so he could resume watching the game.


Walking about in the kitchen, Stansie settled on grabbing the tea kettle from the lazy Susan beside the dishwasher. She placed it in the sink to let it fill up with cold water and when it reached two cups, she shut off the water. Once it was placed onto the stove, with the heat already turned on, the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She turned towards it and her eyes landed on the disheveled appearance of her daughter. Her heart slightly constricted in her chest at such a vision.

"Come sit down, hon. I just put a kettle a tea on. Ya want anything to eat? I don't remember seeing ya eat a thing today, now that I think about it," Mrs. Morello gestured for the petite child to have a seat at the table that was right on the side of the island. Her eyes peered carefully over her daughter, she felt a lump mold into the pit of her stomach to realize something was blatantly going on with her and have no clue what it was or how to help.

Lorna timidly obeyed and walked over to sit down in one of the chairs at the small, circular, table. Her stomach rumbled but she refused to accept any food. The mere thought of eating anything lately only made her feel nauseous. "I-I'm not hungry, ma. Tea sounds good enough," was her quiet response, she focused her eyes on the surface of the table. She still felt shamed over the bed-wetting incident.

Gathering a couple of mugs from the cabinet on the right of the stove, Stansie did her best to get a grasp on her youngest daughter's words. She sucked her lower lip slightly underneath the top one while preparing each mug with cream and sugar. "Not hungry, hmm? What'd 'ya eat today, hon?" Waiting for the kettle to whistle, she turned around to fix her gaze back on the brunette child at the table. It hurt her heart tremendously to see how guilty her daughter looked as she sat there with her head hung downwards.

"I had a glass of water. I don't know. I haven't really been hungry, mom."

The kettle whistled alerting Stansie that the liquid had boiled and she went over to grab it off of the stove. She carried it to where the mugs sat, pouring it into each one just to right about the three quarter mark. Carefully, she brought the cups with her to the table and placed one in front of Lorna and the other on the surface across from her where she claimed the spot as her own.

Her eyes focused intently on her daughter. "You only had one glass a water today? Lorn, how do ya expect to survive on just water?"

Lorna cupped her hands around her teacup and transported it up to her lips for a sip. It was warm all the way down her esophagus to her throat, a comforting sensation. She set it back on the table, returning her mother's gaze with a slight trepidation oozing from her eyes. Ever since the Morello family reunion a couple of weeks ago, life seemed to change for her. Maybe not physically but mentally, everything felt completely out of her control and she didn't like it. She wanted control back, she needed it but had no idea how to regain it.

When she heard her mother's questions, it made her deliberate on whether she had even been aware that she hadn't really eaten much since that day. Her mind wasn't fixated on food or hunger or anything of the sort. Food meant nothing to her, she didn't have the time or energy to think about it. If she let her thoughts fall onto food, a queasiness was quick to follow. "I just don't feel well. My stomach has been hurtin'."

The response only strengthened the uneasiness that settled in Stansie's stomach. She picked up her mug and lifted it to her mouth, sipping it savoringly. How had she not noticed sooner that something had been off with her own daughter? A sigh pushed its way from her lungs. Ever since she and her husband started fighting more frequently, she began to take her attention away from the kids. She swallowed thickly, slightly angry with herself for allowing that to occur in the first place.

"What's wrong, honey? I know something's up with ya—this is the second night you've had an accident this week. Is there something going on at school? What's happening?"

Lorna kept her head down in direction of her cup of tea that was sat out on the surface in front of her. She let her eyes linger inside of it, watching as the liquid very slowly swayed back and forth. "No, nothin's going on at school," her voice murmured softly, she dipped a finger inside the mug and pushed the tea around with it. "I'm sorry I keep having accidents, mom, I-I guess I drink too much water before bed."

As she observed her daughter's behavior, it wasn't difficult for Stansie to pick up on the faint signs that something was blatantly off. The way Lorna barely looked up at her, or how she kept her voice so low that it was nearly impossible to clearly hear the words that came out of her—all of that made the woman piece together that her little girl was suffering through more than what she was willing to share. Her heart ached tremendously inside of her to know Lorna was dealing with something and refusing to be open about it with her.

Mrs. Morello took in a small breath and gently reached a hand across the table to cup around the eleven-year-old's cheek. Eyes peered compassionately into the meek eyes of her daughter. "You don't have to apologize, hon. I just want us to have a little talk, okay? I'm real worried bout' ya. I don't think the accidents have anything to do with you drinkin' too much water. I think something happened to you. But I don't know what that is. Can ya tell me what's been going on the past couple a weeks, Lorn?"

Swallowing the saliva that seemed to build up in her mouth, the brunette child timidly lifted her head to return the gaze her mother was giving her. Nobody else in the house had really taken a notice of the subtle change in her, Lorna took note of. No one had seen it but her mom. A sigh made its way from her lungs. Her mom always knew when something was wrong, she acknowledged. Maybe it was simply because she was her mom or maybe the other members of their family just had their attention elsewhere.

Distracting herself from her thoughts, she placed her hand inside of the handle of the mug and carried it up to her mouth for a small sip. She swallowed it, soothed by the warm liquid trickling all the way down to her throat. Her eyes peered above the cup directly onto her mother's face. She felt her shoulders slightly recoil into a shrug. "I, um, I don't know if uh I can tell you or not," Lorna finally mumbled, placing her cup of tea back down and reclaiming her earlier position.

"Of course you can tell me, Lorn. I'm your motha—I love you and want ya to talk to me about anything that's happening, okay? Now, go on, tell me what it is," Stansie quickly responded, allowing the hand that cupped around Lorna's cheek to gently caress along its flesh. Her eyes melded sternly, yet, with the utmost warmth and empathy into the young child who sat opposite her. There wasn't anything she wouldn't do for her youngest daughter, she knew.

Closing her eyes momentarily, the brunette child mentally contemplated how to inform her mother of what had been the underlying culprit for her recent bed-wetting issue. One hand reached up to place onto her forehead. She manically rubbed it around its flesh while a large breath puffed out of her. What she planned to share, she wasn't sure how her mom would take it. If she'd even believe her—a reason she hadn't brought it up sooner. She was too afraid of being accused of lying.

Stansie was easily aware of how clammed up her daughter suddenly became, sitting on the other side of the table with her eyes squeezed shut and hand almost violently rubbing at her forehead. It tore sharply at her heart to see her so distraught. She swallowed a lump, moving her hand to gently place atop Lorna's tiny one that rested on the skin right above her eyes and stroked the palm of her own against the top of the brunette child's.

"Um, remember when we were at the family reunion?" Lorna's voice shakily questioned after several quiet moments passed by. She opened her eyes just enough that they were very slightly peeping out towards her mom. Her bottom lip sucked in underneath the top one.

To hear such a shakiness in her voice intensified the growing tightness in Mrs. Morello's chest. She brushed her thumb comfortingly over the pale knuckles of her daughter's hand and slowly nodded her head. Of course she remembered the reunion that took place only a couple of weeks prior—Mikey nearly gave her a heart attack when he put off the fireworks and almost accidently killed them all after he realized he'd set them off incorrectly. At least everyone survived to tell the tale, she thought.

Putting that memory aside, she used her other hand to cup underneath her chin as she tried to decipher where this question could possibly be leading to. Her eyes squinted while she played through her thoughts. Nothing else about the reunion appeared to stick out the more she dawned on it. "I can't forget it if I tried. Your brotha near took us all out with those damn fireworks," she remarked calmly, focusing her eyes back on her daughter's face.

Lorna couldn't resist the small chuckle that erupted from her throat at the memory. She looked down at her teacup and sighed. If only that was the highlight of the family picnic for herself, she thought sadly. It was an annual Morello summer tradition to have a huge familial reunion party in one of the local parks and, usually, it was one of the best parts of the summer for Lorna. But this year, that certainly wasn't the case. This year that event was single-handedly the outright most dreaded part of her summer vacation.

Her hands quickly cupped around the mug on the table and lifted it gradually to her lips. She sipped it, trying to distract herself from the uncomfortable sensation that seemed to take over her body. "Um, well, uh, ya know, erm, Uncle George?" Swallowing the tea, Lorna cautiously shifted her eyes from the cup to her mother.

It cut like a knife to see her child struggling so heavily just to talk. Something her Lorna never had a problem with—talking was always one of her main characteristics that drew others to her. It was so innate within her and to watch her, now, stammering over her words, that formed a knot in Stansie's gut. Clearly, whatever she was about to say wasn't going to be good. Not when it had the ability to have her choking over what came out of her mouth.

"Vaguely. Why? What about him?" The queries uneasily came out. Stansie bit down on her lower lip, eyeing her daughter over attentively. She really hadn't liked where this conversation seemed to be headed.

Brown eyes averted across the room to the clock that sat on the wall behind the stove. Lorna sucked in a sharp breath, preparing herself for what she was about to reveal. Her heart pounded harder, faster, inside her chest. She hoped her mother wouldn't accuse her of making it up—or even worse, be ashamed of her for what took place at that reunion. Either outcome wasn't pleasant, she confirmed.

Saliva built up rather profusely inside of her mouth, so, she swallowed it before finally deciding to speak once more. "Wh-when we were, um, sit-sitting at the table to eat…Uncle George, erm, he was—uh he was beside me and I-I, uh, I felt his-his hand," by that point, tears had formed beneath her eyelids and fell along her cheeks without giving her any time to suck them back in. She reached a hand up to wipe at them.

"Uncle George—I felt him to-to-touch my, uh, my private area, mom."

Biting down even harder on her bottom lip that it bled and the saltiness hit her tongue, Stansie shook her head violently. Processing what just came out from her daughter's mouth only formed a firing rage within her. Her eyes pierced intensely down into her child's blatant hysterical ones. "He did what?" She threw out her question but quickly shook her head again, not wanting Lorna to have to repeat herself.

Instead, she stood up from her chair and walked to the other side where the child sat and scooped her up into her arms. Stansie cradled her youngest daughter's head against her heart, swaying slowly back and forth to not only soothe Lorna but to also keep herself from acting on any of the anger bubbling through her veins. "Lorn, honey, why didn't ya tell me sooner? Were ya scared, is that it?" She permitted her fingers to comb tenderly through her child's thick brown waves.

Smaller arms instinctively wrapped around the neck of her mother. The embrace was the only thing that kept Lorna from completely falling apart at the rather traumatizing recollection of her uncle's disturbed behavior. Relief slightly washed over her to see that her mom hadn't been ashamed of her for what occurred or even hurled accusations at her of lying. She let herself slightly relax in the comforting arms of her mom.

"Uncle George told me if-if I said anything that no-no one would believe me," Lorna discovered her voice once again after letting a few silent sniffles tremble their way from her body. She kept her petite hands grasped onto the older woman's neck as if she'd suddenly collapse had she not held onto her. Or maybe it was the irrational fear in the back of her mind that if she had released her grip that somehow her uncle would appear before her and snatch her away.

Again, the rage came to a boiling point and Mrs. Morello had to grit down on her lower lip to hold it in. Her mind pondered on how the hell something like that had happened at a public family gathering. It wasn't only her husband's brother she was infuriated with, it was herself as well. How could she have not noticed that taking place? She sighed, tightening her arms around Lorna's small stature. Had her damn son not been playing with those stupid fireworks maybe her attention would have been on her youngest child. She shook her head and refocused on the present

Releasing Lorna from her arms, Stansie took her face gently in her hands and peered softly down into her child's saturated eyes. She used a thumb to caress delicately away the tears that soaked pale cheeks. "Well, Uncle George is a sick fu—piece of trash. No, now I understand why ya've been having so many accidents the last couple a days," she stated, sighing as she continued to cradle her hands around the cheeks of her daughter. "You can always talk to me, my sweet Lorn, you're my little girl and I will always believe what ya say."

Mrs. Morello smothered the top of her daughter's head in comforting kisses for several minutes before completely emancipating the embrace. She folded her hands over each hip, looking her over methodically. "Now, can I fix ya somethin' to eat? You need to consume something before ya go to sleep tonight," she pointed out, not even waiting for an answer before walking over to one of the cupboards to retrieve a box of Lorna's favorite cereal.

Lorna gulped while her eyes peered across the room, observing as her mother grabbed a bowl from another cabinet and poured a rather heaping amount of the cereal into it. Though her mind wasn't fully on board with eating, her stomach rumbled loudly for the nutrients that the bowl of cinnamon toast crunch would provide it with. She cautiously sat back down at the table and let out a sigh. There was no sense in arguing with her mother over a tiny bowl of cereal, she thought.

"I, um, I guess a little cereal will be okay but please no milk. Milk makes my tummy hurt, mom," she quickly commented when she saw Stansie opening the door of the refrigerator.

The brunette woman nodded responsively to her daughter's request. She reached for a container of yogurt, instead, and held it up. Her hand gestured for Lorna's eyes to look at the item in her hand. "I know—us Morellos have a milk sensitivity. That's why I picked out this yogurt instead; it's strawberry, your favorite kind. I'm gonna mix it in with the cereal, you need some protein."

"But, but that's a lotta food. I-I don't wanna get fat."

"Lorna, you are not gonna get fat by eating a bowl a cereal with a little yogurt. You're a growing girl and need the nutrients so that when ya start going through puber—"

Quickly, Lorna covered her ears and shook her head quite profusely at what her mother was about to let come out of her mouth. "Mom, please, I don't needa know bout' that now. Okay, fine, I'll have the yogurt too but please don't ever mention puberty again," she surrendered swiftly and grabbed her teacup that sat untouched in front of her for the past few minutes. A long, intense, sip she took of it before deciding to just finish it off all the way.

Stansie smiled indistinctly, carrying the bowl carefully over to the table to set down right in front of the brunette child. She placed the half-full container of yogurt on the other side where she'd been sitting and then hurriedly went to retrieve two spoons for the pair of them. Once she returned, she sat back down in her chair opposite Lorna and reached across to hand her the other spoon. "Well, my Lorn, one day soon ya will be dealing with that word whether ya want to or not—that's just part a life, hon."

"Now, just eat your food and relax. I'll make sure ya never see that perverted uncle a yours again. That's a promise. I'm gonna talk to your dad and see about making ya an appointment with a doctor, okay? I think it'd be good for ya to talk to someone about this and it might help make those accidents happen less frequently," Stansie firmly—yet in a soft tone—reassured her daughter between bites of the yogurt. "And, no matter what, I don't want you to ever feel like anything ya have to say to anyone is insignificant; because that'll never be true, my Lorn."


The room appeared silent and hushed even though Lorna's eyes could undoubtedly see Mrs. Mendoza's mouth moving and the eyebrows above her eyes were shifting in a way that indicated she was speaking to her. Yet, her ears weren't absorbing any of whatever had possibly been coming from it. She cupped the hand that was without scissors in it around an ear but that did nothing to improve the situation. In fact, the only sound she heard was the thumping of her own heart-beat. She swallowed away the thick saliva that coated her mouth and looked nervously around her surroundings.

Nothing changed; she still stood in the office of her counselor. Nicky still sat in the chair beside her empty one, though now she was getting up from it her eyes easily took notice of. She watched wordlessly as the redhead cautiously came over to where she was standing, Mrs. Mendoza continued to guard the door. Lorna sighed and reached her hand up to place on her forehead. A moistness came in contact with her palm. She hadn't realized she was sweating. It wasn't even hot in the room.

"My mom," the vibration of her vocal chords alerted her that she had spoken. Her eyes squinted as she looked straight past the counselor and out towards the hallway that displayed through the slender window on the door behind her. "Can ya, can ya call my mom, please? I, uh, I need her to come get me. Please."