Chapter Forty-One

It took Nicky by complete and utter surprise to hear those words come from Lorna. In the past six months that the pair of them had known each other, she couldn't recall once hearing the young brunette so frantically call out for her mother comparable to how she was now. A breath of air escaped dramatically from her lungs at the realization that she nor Mrs. Mendoza could abide by her innocent request. She felt her heart constrict a slight amount as her big brown eyes peered intensely over her girlfriend's. There were tears making their way down her pale cheeks and Nicky's breath hitched.

Unsure of how exactly to respond to her distressing plead, Nicky did the only thing she could think of in that moment and engulfed her arms rather tightly around the brunette's waist. Her own eyes seemed to gradually form their own set of tears. She buried her face in Lorna's hair while hugging her close to her body. There was no chance in trying to force the tears away; they poured along the flesh of her cheeks in truckloads and she was unable to resist them. Their bodies melded slightly together as they both freely allowed themselves to cry. If the situation wasn't so upsetting, Nicky would have chuckled at what Mrs. Mendoza might have been thinking having two blubbering teenagers in her office.

But once the two calmed down a small amount as Nicky peeped up over Lorna's head, the expression on Gloria's face was contradictory of amused. She stood in her same spot, watching the pair of them with an undistinguishable desolation oozing from her lightly-colored brown eyes. For some unknown reason such acknowledgment brought a small comfort to her. It made her feel more relief to find that she hadn't been the only person to care so strongly for the petite girl who now rested in her arms.

The absence of a response to her desperate cries instantly formed a sharp ache in Lorna's chest. Why wasn't anyone listening to her? Were they hard of hearing or something? An unrelenting need for her mother took control of her; her mind swirled with questioning thoughts. She felt as though she'd been transported to an entirely new matrix. A hand lifted up to rest atop her head, pushing back her hair. She fixed her eyes on the eyes of her girlfriend, squinting them so that she could better decipher what the other was possibly thinking.

"My mom," Lorna repeated, this time her voice tremored from the amount of sniffles that erupted through her esophagus. She cautiously shifted herself just so out of Nicky's arms in order to properly gaze over her head at the counselor. Her eyes all but begged for the woman to acknowledge what she was saying. "Can ya please call my mom? Please? I-I need her. I need her so bad."

Mrs. Mendoza wordlessly motioned her hand back between her desk and the plastic chairs across from it. She swiftly walked behind the desk and resituated herself on the chair and tilted her head slightly at the seats opposite her, hoping the girls would take the hint. When they complied, seconds later, she grabbed Lorna's student file and laid it atop the surface of her desk. She opened it and placed the manila folder horizontally so that she was better able to look through it.

Sitting on the very edge of her seat, Lorna sat straight up as she peered incessantly across at her counselor. Her foot tapped anxiously against the tile floor beneath her. An ache formed between her temples and she involuntarily breathed out an exasperated breath. "Are ya lookin' for her number?" She impatiently inquired, tapping her foot even harder.

"Yes, I'm looking for it," the woman responded, placing a few already searched through pages on the other side of the folder. It took a little bit of going through them before she finally came across the emergency contact form. Her eyes narrowed down through the lens of her glasses, skimming through the page until she stumbled on the name Stansie Morello.

Swiftly, Gloria lifted her head up once more and glanced over at Lorna with inquisitive eyes. "Is your mom's name Stansie?" She waited until receiving a nod in response before going to retrieve the phone from its base on her desk beside the printer. With the contact form in her left hand, her eyes peered down at the number written under the name and she carefully dialed it into the phone.

The phone sounded the dial tone for nearly five minutes before the call was redirected to an automated operator who loudly proclaimed in Mrs. Mendoza's ear that the number had been disconnected. Arched eyebrows sitting atop two very discombobulated eyes, Gloria placed the phone back on its base and looked apprehensively back towards Lorna. "It appears the number is no longer in service."

Shaking her head distastefully, Lorna peered back at her wide-eyed. Her hands were folded on her lap, the scissors still grasped between them and she furiously grit down on her teeth. "That's gotta be a mistake. It has to. That's the only number my mom has and I-I really need her right now. Ya have to call again, please. Maybe ya just mistyped it," she urgently offered. Of course, her mind agreed, of course the only reason the number was disconnected was because of a simple mistype of a number. It made sense. Numbers were easy to confuse and type out wrong.

Gloria gave it one more shot to appease her frantic student and was not surprised when it resulted in the same thing as the previous call. She focused back on Lorna, shaking her head with a melancholic expression melded onto her face. "I typed the number exactly how it's written and got the same message that it's not in service anymore, Lorna. I'm sorry. I can call your sister and see if she has a different number for your mom, how about that?"

Despite the suggestion being a harmless, innocent—even kind—one, Lorna immediately felt her body tense up. That would certainly not turn out well, she mentally acknowledged. Her eyes deterred back to the pair of scissors in her hands. She just wanted to escape out of that damn office with them. Get some release from all of the agony and torment that she felt was eating her alive. Nothing seemed easy to her anymore. She had to jump through hoops more and more. Everything hurt and her body wanted to give the fuck out.

"I don't wanna be here anymore," her voice was barely louder than a whisper. She grasped firmer onto the scissors.

The words may have been too soft for Mrs. Mendoza to hear but they certainly hadn't missed Nicky's ears, who'd been sitting right next to her observing her closely for the last several minutes. Biting the side of her mouth unconsciously, Nicky reached a hand over to place onto Lorna's cheek. She used that to carefully turn her head so that they were on eye level with one another. "What does that mean, kid? Ya don't wanna be in here, right?" Her brown eyes peered fiercely into the younger girl's, desperate to understand what she was hinting at with such a statement. She swallowed uneasily and hoped that she wasn't referring to anything sinister. Anything other than just not wanting to be in the counselor's office right now.

Shifting her head exhaustively around her neck, Lorna grumbled in frustration. Nothing troubled her more than her girlfriend's always seeming to read her like a fucking book. It wasn't that she was pissed at Nicky for having such an incredible ability, it was more that she loathed the fact that she had that ability at all. Because it made her entire façade that much more challenging to keep going—drained her relentlessly, really. In the end, Nicky's skill to read her like a book only made Lorna angry with herself. No matter what, everything was always her own fault somehow. She wanted to give in and open up, which angered her—she wanted to not burden those she loved and cared about and that also angered her. It was a never ending vicious cycle of self-loathing. Everything always came right back to her.

"I don't wanna be here," Lorna repeated herself and this time threw her hands up and moved them in a circle to emphasize what her words meant, "anymore." To her, she knew she wasn't only referring to being in that damn room but the entire planet in general. She wanted to cease to exist if she was being honest with herself. That appeared to her to be the only certain way she'd ever find true peace. However, to avoid being considered a suicidal crazy person, she hoped that the other two interpreted the hand movement as just not wanting to be in the office any longer.

Relief washed over Nicky and she graciously snaked her arms knuckle-paling tightly around the shorter teen's petite waist. With everything that had recently been going on in Lorna's life, suicidal thoughts and possible self-harm were two things that weighed heavily on Nicky's mind lately. At least Lorna wasn't currently thinking about wanting to die, she mentally reassured herself. Still, her arms pulled tighter on the younger girl's body and her lips pecked warmly atop her head.

"Why don't we have Mrs. Mendoza call your sister, yeah doll? Franny might be able to help us get in contact with your mom," the words felt wrong coming from her mouth.

Nicky swallowed down a lump that had nestled into her throat and exhaled a puff of air. She loathed herself for suggesting that when she already knew, full well, that Lorna's mom had passed but supposed it would be a lot less painful on Lorna if she thought that Franny's admittance through a phone call with her counselor was how Nicky found out about it.

It took numerous times of opening and shutting her mouth for Lorna to finally catch her breath again. Her eyes looked frantically around the room, not stopping to glance at either of the other people who sat in there alongside her. Today couldn't be the day where the last straw irrevocably broke her whole story apart. She wasn't ready for that in any capacity of the word—mentally, emotionally, or even physically. Her legs tremored rather visibly against the chair she sat on, which inadvertently caused it to shake as well.

"I mean I don't wanna bother her or nothin'," Lorna waved a hand unconsciously and peered ahead into the older woman's direction. "You or my sista. I just—I don't know why my mom's number doesn't work no more. She didn't even call to tell me she was gonna get a new one. I don't understand. Can I just get the hell outta here already? My whole fucking day is wasted in this stupid office."

Mrs. Mendoza gestured a hand to her in the same way she had done only seconds earlier. "I can promise you that you're definitely not bothering me. I'm gonna give her a call and see what she has to say, yeah? I know you're upset, honey, and it's perfectly okay to be upset. But you need to stay in here right now. I don't want you leaving when you're this upset. Just stay put while I call her."

A few rings occurred before Gloria heard the line pickup. There was a slight hesitation in the other woman's voice as she greeted on the other line, that hadn't surprised the counselor. She, too, would be a bit taken aback if she received a call from an unfamiliar number—especially with all the telemarketers that seemed to be calling those days. "Hello, is this Francine Morello?"

"Erm, yes. Who's this? Oh, is this the court callin' me back about the legal guardianship I just applied for?"

Tilting her head slightly at the query, Mrs. Mendoza took a mental note of that to come back to later with Lorna. She cleared her throat before responding back into the receiver. "Oh, no, this is Mrs. Mendoza—I'm Lorna's counselor at the school. I was just calling to see if you possibly might know whether Mrs. Morello had her phone number changed?"

Franny instantly jumped up from the island stool she was sitting on and walked aimlessly around her kitchen with a hand covering one of her temples. Flesh of her forehead scrunched up to hear what was spoken to her only a few seconds earlier. She shook her head in utter disbelief. Had her sister really been that in denial of their mother's death that she had tried to have her school counselor call their mom? Her mind was unable to fully comprehend any of it, the more she pondered on the topic.

Holding the phone to her ear with one hand, she took a glass out of a cupboard with the other. The glass was brought over to the sink and filled up with cold tap water. She sipped it all the way down before finding the strength within herself to respond to her sister's counselor. "Well, no, I cannot give ya a different phone number for our motha," she pointed out through slightly gritted teeth.

A large breath of air inhaled through her nose. She had to keep herself calm, anger wouldn't solve anything. "Our motha passed away six months ago from cancer. How did the school not know this? I don't understand."

It took a few moments for Gloria to process such information that had just been revealed to her. She shifted her focus from the paper lying out in front of her over towards Lorna, who clearly looked highly apprehensive with how restless her legs were. A small lump was swallowed down through her esophagus. "Oh, god, I'm so sorry to hear that. No, nobody updated Lorna's contact information and Mr. Morello never called in about it—Lorna's not said anything about it, either. That's just awful."

Lorna quickly stiffened at what was being said by the school counselor. The color vastly drained from her face and the rate of her heart-beat rapidly increased. Breathing became near impossible with all the thoughts that ran rampant through her mind as she tried to piece together the conversation that was being had between Franny and Mrs. Mendoza. Whatever the conversation—she knew it was likely going to end in making her life even more fucked up than it had already recently been made. That was her one outlet she had to keep from losing herself completely, she uncomfortably realized.

Letting her hands cradle underneath of her chin, Franny peered out the window that was right above her kitchen sink and exhaled deeply. She should have figured as much—their father was never one to care enough about their schooling to communicate with them over anything, whether it was assignments or important events that were happening in their lives. So, of course, he wouldn't mention Mrs. Morello's death to the school. Franny rolled her eyes with a frustrated shake of her head.

"Our dad's not very good with communication," she stated while turning back towards the rest of the kitchen. The phone was now held to her ear by her shoulder as another sigh escaped her. With the subject of their mother's death and absentminded father, Franny's mind swirled with thoughts of whether it was known to the counselor of Lorna's new living arrangements.

Regardless of whether or not she was aware, Franny made the decision to bring it up. At least that would make her feel as though she was doing something productive for her sister's well-being. "Our dad is also an abusive SOB, which, I'm sure my dear sista has neglected to inform ya of. She probably also hasn't told ya that she's in the foster system, right?"

"I've not heard of any of that until now," was the only proper response Mrs. Mendoza could form in that moment.

There was so much exposed to her all at once that her mind needed more than a minute or two to process everything. Her eyes averted slightly onto the brunette teen in the chair across from her desk, observing her intensely. It was a challenge trying to decipher how she felt. All she clearly took notice of was the alarming paleness of her face. "All right, thanks for helping me figure this phone number situation out. I'll let ya go back to your day—"

"Wait," Franny hurriedly interjected. "Look, Lorna's stuck living at some foster family's place so can ya please keep me updated on how my sista is doing? I worry about her and I don't how the hell long she's gonna be living there. Or if that family even gives a shit about what's going on with her."

"I will do my best to try and do that for you. And I'll see about getting in contact with this foster family of hers, no one has informed me of any of that yet. Usually, the social worker from CPS will reach out to me for students that have been put in the system. But if they don't, I'll find a way to get it taken care of," Gloria firmly assured the younger woman on the other line before the both of them mutually hung up the call.

After replacing the phone on its base, the Hispanic woman situated herself in a position where her eyes were peering directly onto Lorna's. Both concern and sympathy oozed from her light brown eyes. No wonder the poor girl hadn't been doing so well in her classes, she thought. How could any student focus on their studies when dealing with the death of one of their parents? Now it all appeared to make sense to her. She sighed and her heart constricted a slight amount.

The atmosphere suddenly felt much tenser than even only a second ago. Lorna apprehensively returned the gaze Mrs. Mendoza had been giving her, watching her face quite closely. Her eyes easily made out the pitying stare, the concern and melancholic aura that came along with it and felt her stomach churn uneasily. There was an overwhelming intensity with it that quickly caused Lorna to shift her eyes away from her and onto a random painting framed on the wall to the right of the desk.

Nicky felt the change in the air, as well, and instinctively wrapped an arm protectively around the brunette's shoulder. She swallowed the saliva that formed in her mouth and pressed a comforting kiss atop her girlfriend's head. When her eyes peered over it, onto Mrs. Mendoza, she effortlessly perceived the compassion that trickled from her eyes. The sight had her realize that the counselor must have now been aware of what all Lorna had been struggling through for the last several months. It relieved her highly to acknowledge that because that meant they could finally properly get her to open up about it all. Or at least she hoped they would be able to accomplish that.

Silence had dawned on the three of them for quite a length of time before anyone said anything. Gloria cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the long period of quiet that fell upon them. She was hoping for that silence to have given her enough time to think of what to say but she sat there, staring between the teens with a mind that only drew a blank. "Well, I talked with your sister," Mrs. Mendoza cautiously started while reaching for her bottle of water from its spot underneath the desk.

"Did she have another number for our mom?" Lorna nearly robotically questioned.

"No, Lorna, she didn't. In fact, she told me the truth about your mom. Do you know what truth I'm talking about?" The older woman answered with an inquiry of her own. It probably wasn't going to receive the response she was hoping for but she knew it was time that Lorna faced the truth. She popped the lid off of her water bottle and took a large sip of it. Her eyes looked over at the petite teen methodically; it was blatant to her how much pain secretly hid behind the dark circles beneath Lorna's eyes.

The brunette gulped uncomfortably at her words. She shifted position of her legs, changing which one crossed the other. Her fingers brushed mechanically over the point tip of the scissors that still lain atop her lap. "Ya mean that my motha's living away for work? Course' I know that. Why didn't Franny give ya another number for her? I don't understand." Throbbing pain shot through one temple of her forehead over to the other. She reached a hand up to rub at it but the throbbing didn't fade in the slightest.

Gloria exhaled sharply. There was a heaping amount of frustration building inside her but she reminded herself that Lorna's stubbornness was all only a coping mechanism. She sighed. Of course, what teenager wanted to admit that a parent who they loved so much was gone and never coming back? It was an understandable reason to not want to confess that she had lost her mother. However, now knowing the truth and that it happened six months ago, the counselor understood if Lorna continued down this path of denial that she would never actually heal from it.

"No, honey, the real truth. Your mom is not living in another state for work. She passed—"

"My mom is living in Texas for her business. She passed through a lotta states, of course. Can ya stop talking about it? I just wanna find her new number so I can call her."

Seeing where the conversation was headed, Nicky hurriedly interjected by cradling her hands lovingly around each of Lorna's pale cheeks and gazing intently into her brown eyes. Regardless of the façade Lorna was trying to hold onto, she easily saw right through it. A thumb she used to stroke tenderly around the flesh of her face. "Babe, that's not true. Everyone in this room knows that it's not," her voice softly spoke out, eyes peering softly into her girlfriend's.

Lorna's eyes momentarily widened as they looked up at the redhead. Mrs. Mendoza hadn't even gotten the full sentence out, she observed, and yet Nicky's comment implied that she knew of what the counselor was talking about. That didn't add up in Lorna's mind. Her mind that was frantically running with thoughts and questions.


She couldn't handle it anymore and violently pushed herself out of Nicky's arms and off of the chair, running out through the door of the office and down the hallway. With no particular destination in mind, Lorna ran in direction of the school entrance—knowing the only place she could truly be right now was outside of that constrictive building. However, right as she was approaching that very spot, her body collided with another one. Her eyes squinted shut upon contact. Please, her mind pleaded, please don't let that person be Annalisa. Another encounter with her was something she could do without, especially right now in her panicked state of mind.

"Oh, Lorna, I'm so sorry."

Immediately, upon hearing Red's thick Russian accent speaking to her, Lorna felt a huge sense of relief. She quickly forced herself up from the floor and turned to stare at the middle-aged school nurse with an empty smile. Her shoulders recoiled into a shrug. "No big deal, I wasn't really paying attention. It's my fault," she commented, shifting her eyes downward on her feet that stood anxiously atop the tiled floor.

Red stood across from her, arms now folded across her chest, and peered through her glasses rather sharply over the clearly disheveled brunette. It certainly hadn't taken a doctor to see that there was something not so right with the young girl. She shook her head and, without even a word, took hold of Lorna's hand—using it to lead her back down to her office. Once they made it inside, she gestured her hand towards one of the beds. Her eyes watched closely to make sure she followed the direction.

After making sure Lorna was situated on one of the two beds, Red went to grab a thermometer from one of the drawers in the cabinets behind her desk. She took it with her back over to where the brunette now lain, sitting down in the chair that separated the two beds, and placed the object carefully in Lorna's mouth. A few moments went by before she removed it and looked down to read the numbers. She nodded intuitively.

"Well, you don't have a fever at least," Nurse Reznikov gently informed the young teen. Her eyes lingered on her, trying to decipher the expression on her face. "Where were you running off to, honey? Are you okay? Nicky told me what happened the other day with your dad. You wanna talk about it?" She combed her fingers soothingly through Lorna's thick brown waves, peering down at her in compassion.

A thick coating of saliva formed in the brunette's mouth. Just what she needed, she frustratedly thought, another person prying into her personal matters. She forced herself into a sitting position and shook her head violently towards the older woman. Why, all of a sudden, had everyone taken an interest in her? She didn't want any of it. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was before. Because this was only suffocating to her.

"I want to get out of this stupid school. Why did ya make me come down here? I'm fine, Red, I'm really fine."

Red folded her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes on the younger girl. "Fine, huh? You don't think I actually believe that, do you?"

The franticness in Lorna's voice easily convinced Mrs. Reznikov of the complete opposite. There was nothing about the young brunette that showed she was fine as she so claimed to be. Red sighed, unfolding her arms once more, and placed a hand onto the brunette's cheek. She used the palm of it to caress comfortingly around its flesh. "You don't look fine to me, sweetheart, and you know what? It's okay to not be fine all the time. Heck, it's normal to not be fine all the time."

Swallowing the wad of saliva, Lorna shook her head resistively. She didn't care if it was okay or normal to not be fine all the time because she was fine. Nobody could convince her of otherwise. There was no such thing for Lorna to be not fine. No, no, of course not. Lorna was always fine—she had to be. She reached a hand up to claw at her forehead. Anger seized through her veins. She stood up from the bed and started briskly walking back towards the door.

Rather swiftly Mrs. Reznikov came up behind her and placed a gentle hand onto her shoulder. "Lorna, I know you don't want to be here at school but you're not allowed to just leave when you want. Now, come lay back down. You're paler than the walls in here, honey. You need to rest. Come on," her voice softly encouraged, hand patting the shoulder it covered comfortingly.

Lorna shook her head. She squeezed her hands together, realizing the scissors were still grasped between them, and a rush of relief fell over her. Her eyes shifted onto the bathroom sign that was slightly to the right of the nurses' small office and decided to play along. At least if she was able to get inside the bathroom, she'd have a moment alone with those scissors. She sighed and bit down on her lip. "Can I use the restroom first, please?"

Staring her over thoroughly, Red grew rather suspicious of the sudden change in her demeanor. She narrowed in on Lorna's hands, it was obvious to her there was something inside them and that made her even more distrustful of her bathroom request. Her eyes squinted piercingly at the brunette. "What's in your hands, Lorna? Show me what you're holding before you go in there," Red sternly commanded.

"Nothing. I ain't got nothin' in my hands. Please just let me go to the bathroom, I gotta go bad," Lorna frantically pleaded, tightening her grip on the sharp object. She wasn't about to have them snatched away from her. It was the one thing that had the possibility of bringing her any sort of release from the pain that appeared to be swallowing her whole.

Red walked slightly closer, removing her hands from Lorna's shoulders and cautiously placing them over her hands. "I can see something poking out. Open your hands so I can see what it is."

Backing away, the younger girl shook her head furiously. Anger melded into fury. The longer she stood there the more intense the fury raised. She couldn't catch a damn break lately, the thought angrily whirled through her mind. "No, I'm not holding anything. Why do ya care about it so much anyway? I needa use the bathroom."

"You can use the bathroom when you show me what you're holding. I'm not dumb. You're not fooling me, honey. I care because I don't want you taking something in there with you that could be an item you could use to hurt yourself with. Now, you can either tell me what it is or I will find out on my own when I open your hands myself."

Out of exasperation and the blatant fact that Mrs. Reznikov had it figured out, Lorna took her chances and decided to stick the point tips of the scissors through the skin of her wrist right there and then. She didn't do it out of spite for Red but rather to finally allow some of the unrelenting rage to release itself from her body. It mattered not at all to Lorna that she had cut herself in plain sight of an adult in her public high school. She couldn't care less that the other had seen her do it. All she wanted was the sensation of that sharp knife-like tip cutting into her flesh.

The scissors dropped to the ground quickly after Lorna finished the cut through her wrist and Red immediately retrieved them so that the teen couldn't reach for them again. She held a finger up at the brunette, wordlessly informing her to stay put while she went to place the scissors in a locked up cabinet. When she returned, seconds after the fact, she gestured for Lorna to follow her back over to where the beds were located.

"Lay back down, Lorna, please," she nearly begged. Emotions fought to escape her but she swallowed them down and felt somewhat relieved to see the brunette comply with her request.

Cupping a hand maternally around one of Lorna's cheeks, she gazed down at her with an overpowering tenderness. "When was the last time you got a good night's sleep? You have such thick dark circles under your eyes, sweetheart. You're exhausted, aren't you? It's okay to admit that. You've been dealing with so much for a young girl, it's not fair what you've had to put up with."

"Nicky," Lorna's voice cracked from the amount of sobs that had unexpectedly began shaking through her body. She hadn't realized she was crying until she heard the cracking of her own voice.

Mrs. Reznikov gave a small nod, brushing her knuckles gently up and down Lorna's cheek. "I'll call Nicky down here for you, don't worry. You just close your eyes and sleep for a while, okay? You don't need to stress about missing any classes, honey, I'll make sure your teachers know where you are," she gently reassured the distraught teen.

Red got up from the chair to retrieve a blanket from the cupboard against the wall, carrying it back with her to carefully wrap around Lorna's faintly tremoring body. Her heart broke at the sight; she quickly reclaimed her spot in the chair and let her hand cradle softly around the other's face. "You don't need to shake, everything's okay. You're gonna be okay, Lorna. I'm gonna go call for Nicky and then I'll be right back to sit with you. Relax, sweetheart," Mrs. Reznikov softly hushed, combing her fingers delicately through brown waves of hair.

Relax was certainly not a part of Lorna's vocabulary in any sense of the term. Her body convulsed subtly beneath the blanket that covered around it. The room wasn't particularly cold or anything of that nature, however, her body appeared to have a mind of its own. She swallowed uneasily, letting her eyes peer straight ahead into the abyss. Nothing felt real anymore; her life had been yanked right from underneath her and she was thrown directly to the wolves. That was the sensation she could acquaint it to, anyway.

She watched meticulously as the nurse hurriedly made her way into the small room along the right of the door that opened up to the entire office. The second Red was in there, sitting down in her chair, she grabbed the corded phone from its place on the base and—what Lorna presumed—dialed a number that would reach to wherever Nicky was. With the middle-aged woman being preoccupied in her task, Lorna deterred her eyes away and focused them up on the ceiling.

There were numerous yellow-tinted stains among some of the tiles, her eyes simply noticed. Obvious signs of past water damage. She mentally busied herself with counting each stained tile she was able to observe above her head. It didn't take long for such an action to cause her eyes to feel an increasing heaviness come over them. She squinted them so she could keep counting but the sensation only got stronger and rapidly she felt herself succumb to the fatigue that had rather vastly overpowered her entire body.


Muffled voices were the first thing Lorna's ears picked up on immediately upon awakening from her surprisingly restful slumber. The room was slightly blurred as her eyes peeped through barely opened eyelids. She lifted her hands up to them and wiped them until the blurriness faded away. Her throat felt raw and dry each time she swallowed. Pushing herself up into a sitting position, she looked around the room and found both the school nurse and counselor having a hushed conversation in the doorway of the tiny room that contained Mrs. Reznikov's desk. Her eyes averted away from them, landing on Nicky who was sat on a plastic chair while impatiently kicking her feet at the floor.

Hearing the sound of the vinyl mattress squeaking due to the movement of Lorna's body instantly caught Nicky's attention. She jumped up from the chair she'd been occupying and nearly frisked her way to sit down in the seat beside the bed her girlfriend was resting atop of. To know that it was her surrogate mother that bumped into Lorna after she'd run out of Mrs. Mendoza's office came as an overwhelming relief to Nicky. She inhaled a gradual breath while reaching her hands down to frame tenderly around the younger teen's colorless cheeks.

"Did ya have a good nap, doll?" Her voice murmured the question. Nicky softly stroked a thumb along the flesh of the cheek she had cradled in her hands. She gazed tenderly down into Lorna's eyes, taking in every minute detail of her entire facial features. Her heart burst tremendously at the barely noticeable tear marks that stained the brunette's almost translucent cheeks.

The presence of her girlfriend right beside her immediately caused Lorna's head to turn in that direction. Their eyes melded together and she felt her breathing somewhat hitch inside her. Nicky had clearly been crying, as well, she easily observed. Such acknowledgement formed a knot in the pit of her stomach. That was exactly the reason she never wanted anyone to find out about her façade being exactly that—a façade.

Swallowing the dryness away, Lorna reached her hands up to lovingly cover over the ones that grasped onto her face. She caressed her palms around the tops of both of Nicky's hands. "Yeah, I'm shocked to say that mighta been the best sleep I've had in at least the last few days," she honestly replied, continuing the soothing motion around her girlfriend's skin.

Her eyes searched over Nicky very precisely. It pained her chest heavily to note the dejection that trickled from her big brown eyes. The rawness in her mouth only intensified at the sight. Nicky didn't deserve to feel that way, she concluded. "Nicky, I—I uh I understand if you're mad at me for, erm, for not telling you about my mom."

That revelation was enough for the older teen to instantly engulf Lorna in the outright closest, highly protective, embrace as humanly possible. She took the brunette from the bed, onto her lap, and rested her head atop hers. In the grand scheme of things, Nicky was less upset over being retained in the dark from what happened and more-so worried on how the pair were going to move forward as she sat there with Lorna cradled securely in her arms.

Nicky swallowed thickly, swaying her body subtly back and forth. "Mad at you? Baby, no, I'm not mad or upset with you over any of this," she warmly reassured the younger teen, pecking a soft kiss atop her head. One hand cradled behind Lorna's head, holding it in place against her chest, and the other hand she used to stroke soothingly through the dark brown waves that cascaded down along her upper back.

"I just I'm shocked at how much you've been going through since before I even met you," Nicky stated, biting down on the side of her mouth as if trying to grasp a bearing on all of the emotion that seemed to be whirling through her. The hand that was running through Lorna's hair, she moved to her back and caressed her knuckles softly up and down along it. "You've been dealing with so much pain for so long, alone, and that hurts me. That hurts me to know my sweet girlfriend has been grieving and suffering all this time without even an ounce of comfort." Her hand cradled behind Lorna's head and moved it slightly back so that their eyes melded together once more. Nicky leaned closer until their foreheads were brushing together, she took her other hand from Lorna's spine and pressed it delicately on her cheek, "You're not alone anymore. I'm here, now, and I'm helping you through all of this. I love you so, so unbelievably much—I don't want you to hide your pain from me, baby. You don't have to pretend in front of me, ever. Please don't feel like you have to, kid. You don't. I want you to be real with me, all the time, no matter what. I'm not gonna leave you just because ya have emotions and feel pain like the resta us. You're human, Lorna, you're supposed to feel emotions and pain. Please, from now on, please don't pretend with me. You'll always be safe when you're with me, babe, I promise. We're a team now, and that means we both have to be real with each other no matter what it is."