Chapter Sixty-Three
Suddenly, Lorna's enthusiasm to have her therapy appointment today—Wednesday, the chant she repeated in a muttered tone over and over in her girlfriend's kitchen two nights ago—had vanished. Maybe it wasn't technically a sudden change, she realized soon after. Maybe it was slower than she thought but just felt like a rapid metamorphosis. Maybe now that she was being faced with the truth or the knowledge that her therapist had now been aware of the reality of her current circumstances and there was no more spinning around the facts she felt an intense strength of overstimulation which caused her past enthusiasm to morph into a deep bout of loathing. A loathing for having to finally face it all head-on.
Her fingers poked and prodded against the cotton of the sweats that covered over her thighs and legs. She swallowed a rather large volume of saliva which had pooled beneath the very tip of her tongue, bouncing one leg nervously underneath the hands she rested on top of. A deep breath was inhaled through her nose and she finally looked back up at the therapist. The therapist who easily returned her stare with quite a concentrated amount of compassion oozing from her eyes.
"It's hard to talk about, yeah?" Dr. Washington broke the silence with a softly asked query. She retained her gaze on the girl across from her, feeling her chest tighten a smidge to observe the blatant discomfort coming from her. Her eyes averted onto the still untouched coffee sitting on a coaster on the table directly in front of the sofa and gestured a hand between Lorna's face and the cup. "Why don't you have a sip of your coffee? I don't have another patient until this afternoon so you can take all the time you need to gather your thoughts."
"Can, can I have Nicky here? Please, I-I need her. She—I want her here, please," the words came through between sniffles that Lorna hadn't even anticipated in coming out. She felt herself very faintly convulsing each time a sniffle forced its way from her throat. Regardless, she abided by Poussey's suggestion and reached for her paper cup of coffee. It was brought slowly up to her quivering lips and a drawn out sip was taken. The liquid wasn't as hot as when she first took hold of the cup but still had a decent warmth to it. Enough to soothe her raw and dry throat.
A fervent nod of head was given in response to her client's request. Poussey quickly pushed herself out of her seat and walked towards the door that opened back out to the hallway. However, before even opening it, she turned to peer at Lorna once more. A pang growing inside of her chest to see how apparent the young girl was currently struggling as she sat sniffling and restless on the cushion of the sofa. "You sure can—I'll go let my assistant know to bring her down here. Just sit there and relax with your coffee, okay? Please don't try to run away while I'm gone. I know it's tempting to wanna run away from the truth but that won't help you heal. It sucks but it's just the reality," she said with a sigh. After she saw Lorna's head nod in acknowledgement, she quickly went to do what she'd advised her of.
Only a matter of seconds had passed before the door was creaking open to reveal Dr. Washington entering right back through. Her journey to her desk, though, was swiftly halted when her eyes caught sight of the current mental state Lorna happened to be in. Instead of going to sit behind her desk as she had previously done, she walked over to the sofa and sat in the spot beside the distraught teen. She placed a comforting hand on the top of one of her shoulders, peering attentively into her eyes.
"What's going on in your mind right now? What are you thinking about that's upsetting you so much, Lorna?"
Coming up with a proper sentence to respond with seemed mere impossible for Lorna. She could hardly catch her breath let alone form words. The only thing on her mind was whether she would survive the appointment without losing every last one of her lung cells from all the damn crying and sniffling she'd been unable to stop from occurring. "Nnnicky," was what fumbled from her mouth, slightly muffled by the sobs that accompanied it. Her eyes shifted violently over to the door. "I want Nicky, please."
Nodding understandingly, Poussey gave another gentle pat to her shoulder in the hopes of bringing her some form of comfort while they waited for Nicky's arrival. The pang in her chest had gradually gotten stronger the more she observed the young teen's behavior. "I know. She's coming, don't worry. But in the meantime, can you talk to me about what you're feeling right now? You probably should have had tea instead of coffee. The caffeine will only make your anxiety worse. Which it might have already done that now, clearly."
"What I feel?" Lorna repeated once the sobbing had settled somewhat. Eyebrows scrunched up in a way that portrayed she found the question to be rather incomprehensible.
"Yes, Lorna, what are you feeling? Don't you understand the question or are you just not sure what it is you're feeling? Either is okay, just talk to me. Please. I'm here to help you. Just like your counselor at school is. We both are just here because we want to help you."
Eyes squeezed tightly shut. Lorna opened her mouth and noisily sucked a deep breath of air in. Her eyes reopened just in time for them to catch sight of Nicky's finally coming through the still unfastened door of the office. Relief washed over her to see Nicky walking over to both she and her therapist; she chewed down on her lower lip and pushed herself out of the seat so that she could meet Nicky halfway—too needy for a hug to wait for her to sit down.
Seeing Lorna coming towards her, Nicky eagerly obliged and threw her arms tightly around her waist. Pulling her as close as she could possibly have her. It didn't take too long for her to notice the faint tremor going through Lorna's body and such a realization only had her arms strengthen around the waist they already grasped around. "I'm here now, kid," she assured, lips brushing against one of her ears as a thumb curled a strand of her hair behind it. "Everything's okay. Come on, let's sit back down and talk with Dr. Poussey."
Nicky gently maneuvered them back towards the sofa she had seen Lorna sitting on right before she came in the room and once she had sat down on it, she settled Lorna onto her lap while letting a hand comb soothingly through her dark waves of hair.
"Hmm, Doctor Poussey?" The therapist commented, eyebrows arched thoughtfully above her eyes that were busy gazing between the two teenagers who now sat opposite of her. She nodded her head after a few minutes and pursed a small smile to her face. "I think I'm on board with that. It's better than Dr. Washington. It's good to see you again, Nicky. Very kind of you to be here in support of your girlfriend."
"Always. I'll always be here to support Lorna. I love her," the older of the two teens sternly stated, inadvertently tightening her hold on the girl on her lap. She rested her chin on the top of Lorna's head and peered over at the therapist. Her shoulders gave a slight forward movement, a highly muted shrug. "Well, Lorna said Dr. Washington makes ya feel old so I thought Dr. Poussey would be good? Didn't ya have to go to med school and shit for a while so ya could do this? Might as well get use of the Doctor, yeah?"
The comment was quick to get a light-hearted laugh out of the dark-haired therapist. Her head nodded in agreement with it. She would never be able to forget all the sleepless nights she spent throughout her time in medical school; many, many sleepless nights and long days spent studying and working and taking multitudes of different tests. A hand was brought up to the rim of her forehead and she used it to gently rake through the fuzz of dark hair spilling from her scalp. "I sure did. Many, many, years of school to be a therapist—it was exhausting but worth it. I like your logic, Nicky, you're right. I might as well get use of my doctorate degree and at least be called Dr. Poussey," another joking chuckle came from her throat. She shook her head slightly. "Nah, you two don't have to call me Dr. Poussey. Just Poussey is fine."
Nicky curved an eyebrow, "But what if I want to call you Doctor Poussey?"
"Well, if you want to then go ahead. But I don't mind either way, Nicky."
The redhead nodded her answer and then quickly shifted her focus right back onto her girlfriend. Or rather her faintly blubbering girlfriend. She could effortlessly feel the shaking of her body which naturally molded a solemn frown to her face. Arms gradually released from the waist they'd seconds ago wrapped around so that her hands could cradle around each one of Lorna's cheeks. Their eyes poured into one another and it broke Nicky's heart to see the agony that Lorna so desperately tried to shove away.
A thumb traced delicately from the temple of Lorna's forehead to the bottom of her jawline. "What's wrong, kid? Why ya so shaky?" Nicky cautiously interrogated, continuing the soothing motion from temple to jawline.
On the other side of the sofa, Poussey watched the interaction without uttering a peep. It was a sight she hadn't witnessed before in her several years of social work. The innate ability Nicky had to instantly calm Lorna just by being near her was a bit baffling but also quite heartwarming. Poussey always had a wonder if love happened to have some superhuman abilities like it clearly appeared to have between her client and her client's girlfriend right now in front of her. She stifled the smile she felt trying to form and retained her silence, observing the two attentively.
When a couple of minutes passed and it was obvious to Nicky that Lorna wasn't going to say anything, she sighed and peered over her head at the therapist. "Why's Lorna so upset? Did she actually talk about real shit—I mean stuff?" She only hoped her inference was correct—it would be an absolute miracle if her girlfriend was crying from discussing any of the events of the last few days. Something Nicky knew all too well was too good to be true. Lorna avoided the reality of her situation at all costs. As if it were the plague and even mentioning a miniscule detail about it would magically cause the entire world to crumble around them.
"I asked her to tell me what happened to her mom. What really happened. I believe that's what triggered this reaction—she had asked if you could be here with her when she talks about it and well, now, here we are," Poussey gestured her hand between them all and pushed her hands against her lap to hoist her from the sofa. "Can I get you anything to drink while Lorna collects herself? I have water, tea, coffee?"
"Coffee would be nice, thanks," Nicky nodded concurrently with the words she spoke. Her hands brought Lorna's face closer to her own and she leaned in just enough to have a better angle to press her lips directly over the flesh of the other's temple. A sigh came out of her to hear of the reason for her girlfriend's present distress. It made perfect sense, she calculated, Lorna's mom was a very fresh and sore subject. It wasn't overtly surprising that even only being questioned about her would cause such a prominent response.
Not much time had gone by before Poussey was handing a fresh cup of coffee over to Nicky. Her eyes averted onto Lorna, after, and she felt a bit of relief to see the girl was—at least—no longer shaking in a violent manner. She decided on situating herself back in her desk chair, crossing one leg over the other, and peered down at the many papers sprawled across the surface of the desk. Head nodding periodically as she read through the notes she'd previously taken.
To break the silence, once she'd finished reviewing her notes, Dr. Washington sat up straighter and cleared her throat a little louder than was called for. She observed the behavior of the other two, watching as they both turned their heads in her direction. "Are you ready to talk now, Lorna?" Eyes watched closely and when she'd seen the brunette's head reluctantly give a nod, Poussey did the same along with clasping her hands together. "I'm glad to hear that—well, in this case, see that would be more appropriate to say, huh?"
Lorna only nodded again, taking her cup once more off of the coaster it sat on and brought it to her mouth for a long-desired sip.
On the other side of her, however, Nicky had to stifle a chuckle from escaping at the light-hearted comment made by the psychologist. She mirrored her girlfriend's actions with a sip of her own coffee.
"Why don't you start by explaining what happened to your mom?"
Two quite puzzled eyebrows curved over identically puzzled brown eyes. Of course the question was simple and had a simple response but yet, as she sat there, staring wide-eyed at her therapist, Lorna felt increasingly tongue-tied. She could feel the gushing volume of her own saliva forming near the tip of her tongue and swallowed it down rather harshly. Hands fidgeted atop her lap, trying to keep her nerves from showing too much. However, the topic of her mother always had the capability of shutting her down and twisting every last one of her organs on the inside.
Since she sat directly beside her, Nicky could easily sense the building tension by the microscopic movements of the feet of the sofa. The sensation had her eyes shift onto Lorna, taking notice of how her legs kept twisting and turning against the floor. A sigh forced its way out and she placed a hand over both of Lorna's which were rather aggressively fidgeting against her tremoring thighs. "It's okay, kid. You can tell her the truth. She's here to listen and help you. But you gotta be honest. Ya can't keep shoving your problems under the rug, yeah?" She lightly brushed the tips of her fingers along the cold knuckles of her girlfriend's hand.
Poussey nodded in agreement with her client's girlfriend's statement. She gave a small smile to her before focusing her attention back on the highly distressed Lorna. "You have a smart girlfriend, Lorna. And she's right, the more you push away at the issues you're facing the harder and longer it will be for you to move past them. I know it's not the easiest to talk about it; nobody ever wants to talk about painful events in their lives but the only way you'll ever truly be able to heal and get past it all is to start to discuss it. You don't have to do it all at once, Lorna, you can take little steps. But you have to start somewhere."
Giving a tiny, grateful, smile to the therapist, Nicky lifted both of Lorna's shaky hands in hers and brought them up to place atop where heart resided within. She patted the top of each one with the palms of her own hands. "That's exactly what I've been tryna to tell Lorna since we first started talking," she told Dr. Washington, eyes shifted back onto her. Air exhaled deeply through her larynx causing her shoulders to slightly bounce forward in the process.
Tilting her head in interest of hearing more, the dark haired woman grabbed her cup of coffee and sipped it a couple of times before setting it back down. After which she folded her hands in her lap, eyes glancing momentarily between the two teens until they finally fixated on the younger one. "How long have you two known each other? I don't believe you've disclosed that to me, Lorna, at least I can't recall," Poussey queried, eyebrows ponderously arched above her brown eyes.
"I'm bad at math but I think it's been six or seven months," the brunette muttered, eyes squinting down on her lap as she mentally counted back to when she and Nicky officially began talk to each other. Her head nodded unconfidently and she lifted it up to look beside her at Nicky for clarification on the matter. "Is that right, Nicky?" She furrowed a brow at her to emphasis the question.
Nicky bobbed her head up and down while bringing one of the hands she grasped up to her lips for a warm, soothing, kiss. "That's right, doll. I'm not good at math either but it was last September we met so that's like seven-ish months," her voice affectionately confirmed the younger girl's initial response.
"Hmm," Doctor Washington hummed an acknowledgement to the conversation.
She swallowed another sip of coffee which she'd taken while the girls were figuring out the logistics of what she'd asked and let her eyes peer straight in between the pair, not really focused on either one of them. Mind too busy trying to understand what that meant for Lorna. Seven months she had known Nicky and seven months, at the bare minimum, that she had to have been drowning in her own hidden darkness. She drew in a sharp breath of air, shaking her head at the thought. It was something as a human she could never completely understand, however, as a thoroughly trained psychologist it made total sense to her.
Finally regaining control of her thoughts and feelings, Poussey returned her attention onto the young girls occupying the sofa adjacent to her desk. A firm gaze was given to the brunette. "Seven months? That's a long time, huh? And, Nicky, you said since the beginning you've been trying to get Lorna to open up about things? So, you think she's been bottling it all up for at least the seven months you've been with her, yes?"
"Oh, god, yeah. I know she has. I remember cornering her in one a the bathroom's at school like a week after we met because she was literally in the middle of a breakdown. At minimum it's been seven months but probably more. Lorna doesn't like facing anything that's caused her any amount of pain," Nicky informed her with a solemn shake of her head.
Immediately after she finished speaking she felt Lorna's hand turn limp in her own, causing her head to snap so fast to the other side she was just thankful she hadn't decapitated herself. Eyes peered over the smaller girl in a fierce concern; she easily noted how pale her face had gotten—ghostly pale as if someone had flipped a switch and drained out every last ounce of color from her. Without another thought, Nicky released her hands from Lorna's and moved them to frame around each side of her mere translucent face. "Are you okay, doll? You look like ya seen a ghost."
"Erm," Lorna mumbled, the sound of her girlfriend's voice finally bringing her from her short-lived daze. She shuddered slightly and averted her eyes to stare right into the soft ones looking her intently over. "I, uh, I'm just chilly is all. Sorry. I just got a random cold feeling in my hand but I'm okay now."
The response naturally had Nicky moving her hands from her face and instead encircling her arms warmly around her waist, pulling her closer so that Lorna's head automatically fell to rest on her shoulder. The second her arms came in contact with Lorna's body, Nicky felt herself shiver from the chilly sensation that seemed rather prominent throughout. An uneasiness slowly crept to the surface. She didn't like how cold Lorna felt against her—an alarmingly cold feeling, different than the normal kind she observed.
Her head lifted up from where it previously positioned, in the little bubble of just her and Lorna, and she gave an apprehensive stare across the desk at her girlfriend's therapist. She swallowed a hefty volume of saliva before opening her mouth to speak, "Can you, can you come here Dr. Poussey? Lorna's really cold and it doesn't—it doesn't feel right to me. I feel like I'm hugging an ice cube right now."
Poussey was taken somewhat aback by the franticness seeping through Nicky's voice—it seemed rather out of place for her but she abided by the request in a swift manner. In just a matter of seconds she was sitting on the sofa beside the teens with a somber expression displayed upon her face. She looked firmly across at Lorna, refraining from doing anything until receiving her permission. "Lorna, is it okay if I put my hand on your forehead? To check to see how cold you are?"
Lorna bit down on her lower lip, unsure of what either of them were trying to get at, but nodded her head anyway. Mostly out of not wanting an argument to ensue. She deterred her eyes away from both Nicky and her therapist, letting them gaze out into the abyss. An emptiness trickling out.
Having her client's consent, Doctor Washington proceeded to very cautiously as well as in the gentlest of touches placed the palm of her head against the flesh of Lorna's forehead. It took only seconds for her to flinch from the extreme ice-box-like sensation, which Nicky had described it as, such contact with her hand had. She quickly retracted her hand from it and narrowed her eyes worriedly on the brunette teen. "Nicky's right," her voice started off, tilting her head at the very person she just said the name of, "You feel awfully cold, Lorna. And you do seem very pale today. Paler than the last two times I've seen you."
A breath was slowly drawn in, eyes holding firmly onto their gaze on the youngest teen. Arms gradually folded over her chest. "I think right now is a good time to bring up some concerns your school counselor has emailed me about. Let's talk about your eating habits, Lorna. You're not eating, are you? That would explain why you're so cold and pale. Your body is so clearly lacking vital nutrients," the words spewed rapidly from Poussey's mouth, lines creased on her forehead from the emotions inflecting through her tone.
"I eat just fine. I'm cold because it's real cold in here. I don't know why Mrs. Mendoza is so worried, I told her I eat. What more does she want from me? You can email her back and confirm that I'm fine and I eat. I'm like real healthy. Get off my case," Lorna huffed out; her voice progressively getting more and more bitter with each word she spoke.
"Lorna, just telling her or me that you eat doesn't mean it's the truth. Mrs. Mendoza isn't stupid, honey, and neither am I. It's not hard for us to see how malnourished you are. Healthy? You think you're healthy?"
The brunette nodded profoundly, now crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "I know I'm healthy."
Quirking an eyebrow, Poussey peered wide-eyed at her. Disbelief at the words spilling from her mouth. She pushed her own feelings and emotions aside and swallowed deeply. "Okay, then, I'd like you to have some blood work done. That'll confirm whether you're healthy or not. If the results are good, Mrs. Mendoza and I will not hound you as much over the food issue. But if even one result is off, you and I will need to talk about all of this even further. Does that sound like a plan, Lorna?"
Nicky shook her head rapidly at the suggestion. Peering fiercely between the two of them. "Why the hell does she need a blood test just to prove what we all already know? Waiting for her to get it done and the results that'll just fucking give her more time to do whatever it is she's already doing and not telling us. She'll be worse off than she already is. Lorna needs help now, Dr. Poussey—look at her, she's barely able to sit without shaking from how cold she is. Because she's fucking starving."
"Hey, let's not yell please," the therapist firmly called out to the intensifying angry Nicky, holding out a hand and carefully waving it in her direction. She sighed while staring the redhead over, who was blatantly frustrated and fatigued from her girlfriend's incessant pleas of being fine no doubt. But her office was supposed to be a calming place free of shouting and screaming unless done by her client herself.
Shoulders expanded upward as a second deep breath of air expelled through her lungs. "It's okay for you to feel upset and agitated, Nicky, but getting worked up like this won't do any good for you or for Lorna." She watched as Nicky gave a harsh, resistive, nod to acknowledge her words and felt a frown take shape on her face. Eyes shifted onto Lorna for a second, observing the light shaking of her entire body, the deathly pale coloring of her skin, and the tears which now leaked from her eyes. "Lorna, tell me what you're feeling right now. Physically feeling, because you don't look well. At all. I'm about ready to call an ambulance because you look like you're about to pass out."
The voices in the room had suddenly become muffled and sounded far away as if they were all in some tunnel or another and she was on one side while her girlfriend and therapist were on the other. Lorna squinted her eyes in a way that she somehow hoped would assist her in understanding what had been spoken to her but really it didn't do anything of the sort. Except exaggerate her already fuzzy vision. She lifted a hand towards her cheek and wrapped around it her palm, looking perplexingly ahead at her psychologist. Still unsure of what she was saying.
Motioning a hand slowly in front of her face, Poussey's concern only grew stronger. "Lorna, can you hear me? I need you to respond, please. What are you feeling? You look very ill right now; do you feel unwell?"
"Trapped." Lorna's eyes squeezed shut after her muttered response, which she wasn't entirely sure if it made sense to whatever question Dr. Washington was asking of her, however, she was too nauseated and chilly to really care much. When she reopened her eyes a minute later, the blurriness was even worse and she swore the room was spinning in circles around her.
Nicky watched the whole conversation in agony, she felt rather helpless just sitting there. Which only fueled the anger inside of her but as her eyes peered Lorna over, seeing her in the current state she was in, she couldn't allow the anger to get the best of her. She swallowed thickly down and grabbed onto one of her hands. It felt even colder than the last time she held it. Such an observation had her lower lip sucking inwards under her top one. Her mouth opened to speak but she couldn't form the right words to do so. Eyes ever-so-slightly averted onto the therapist leaning over the cushion beside them.
"I-I shouldn't have gotten so mad—I think I broke her," the words spilled frantically, shakily even, from Nicky's mouth as she used her free hand to point in Lorna's direction.
Poussey gave her an intense stare along with a rather stern shake of her head. "You didn't brake her, Nicky. And it's not bad that you got mad, you're allowed to feel that way. I can tell the madness and frustration you're experiencing is only from a place of compassion for your girlfriend." She retained her stare on Nicky, easily seeing the hysteria oozing from her eyes. The sight of both young teens made her heart constrict quite significantly. "You know it's okay for you to cry, too, right Nicky? And share how you're feeling. I'm here to listen and help the both of you."
"I'll cry later, right now I just want you to get Lorna help. Please, she's not okay. Please get her to talk because she won't talk to me about things and look what it's doing to her. Look. She can't function," Nicky desperately cried out, her hand tightening around the brunette's. "And her hand is so damn cold, why? Why is she so cold, Dr. Poussey? I don't understand. I didn't know humans could feel this cold."
Placing a hand on the top of Nicky's shoulder, she gave it a soothing squeeze and a breath of air made its way up out of her throat. "I'm gonna help her, don't worry. That's what I'm here for. Why don't you drink some of your coffee while I take a good look at Lorna, yeah?" She waited until the redhead very meekly nodded her head before she did anything else. Her hand gave a final, gentle, squeeze to Nicky's shoulder and then she released it altogether. "Lorna's cold because she's under nourished. Her body needs nutrients from food to heat up but clearly she isn't getting enough and that's the reason her skin is so cold to the touch."
While Nicky abided by her request of sipping on her cup of coffee, Poussey moved her attention onto Lorna. She took the quivering teen's head into her hands and looked directly into her eyes. "Can you hear me?"
It took a couple of minutes but Lorna's ears finally picked up on the words coming from her therapist's mouth and gradually bobbed her head up and down. She still felt rather sick to her stomach and dizzy to verbally respond but moved her hand slightly to show Doctor Washington that she wasn't in a daze any longer.
A relieving nod was given by Poussey to see Lorna was at least able to communicate with them. She let each of her thumbs softly stroke around the two cheeks her hands were framed around and felt a shiver venture down her spine from the coldness seeping through her skin. "When was the last time you ate food, Lorna? I need you to be honest with me, okay? This is a safe place, you don't have to be afraid to tell the truth. I won't judge you but I do need an honest answer."
"I-I ate yesterday. Dinner with the Chapmans, Nicky was there. Nicky, I ate—tell her please." Lorna turned her head to peer at the redhead, neediness coming from her eyes. Neediness for everyone to get off her back and leave her alone. But yet seeing the pain in Nicky's eyes once she'd returned the stare only brought forth a bout of guilt.
Poussey averted her eyes onto Nicky, arching her eyebrows in wonder. "Were you with her?"
Setting her cup of half-full coffee back on the coaster it had previously rested on, Nicky looked between the two of them before fixating her eyes mostly on Lorna. Giving a soft, compassionate, gaze into her eyes. Her head shook at Lorna's pleading. "Babe, you mighta had a sliver of salad on your plate but I watched the whole time and you never even took a bite. I love you, Lorna, and I'm right here for you always but I'm not going to lie for you. Not when it comes to your well-being, to your health. I'm not enabling you. I don't know exactly what you're doing but I will do my damnedest to not allow any of it to continue."
Lorna bit down on her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest. "But, but I ate the salad. You got up to go to the bathroom when I finished it, Nicky."
"Yeah that's real convenient, huh kid? How can I refute that when I wasn't there to see, yeah?"
"Hey, ladies. Let's not argue," Poussey calmly interjected, twisting her head around to peer sternly across at Nicky. She wagged a knowing hand at the girl. Though her demeanor remained stern, she felt for the older teen. It certainly couldn't be a walk in the park for her to watch her girlfriend spiral downward and not know how to stop it. How to help. Of course that had to be weighing on her, she thoughtfully concluded. "I know you just want to help her, Nicky, but getting angry and upset isn't gonna do any good. Lorna needs to be reassured that she has support. Even if she's not at a point where she's willing to talk about it."
Sucking in a deep breath, Nicky grinded her teeth together. Frustration, exasperation, rage—all dominant emotions overpowering her as she sat there on the sofa. Balls of her feet kicking at the floor they rested atop of. She shook her head incessantly, peering right into the therapist's eyes. "When is she gonna be at a point where she's willing to face reality, though? I-I don't know if I can just keep sitting here waiting. Lorna is the love of my life, I refuse to sit and watch helplessly as she fucking starves herself to death." A light bulb went off immediately after she said that and her eyes widened as they shifted onto Lorna, "That's why you're doing this to yourself, isn't it? You, Lorna, do ya—do ya want to end up dead?" She spoke softer now, looking fiercely into the eyes of her girlfriend.
Want to end up dead? The query looped echoingly through her mind. It wasn't something she hadn't pondered over before, she acknowledged that much. Death meant she'd have the chance to see her mom again. But death also meant Nicky and Franny would be left to grieve for her and that wasn't anything she wanted to be the cause of. They already dealt with a lot because of her, she wasn't going to selfishly cause any more. A sigh expelled and she meekly returned Nicky's gaze. "I'm sorry, Nicky. I know I'm too much to deal with. I understand if ya need to leave—"
"Don't even finish that sentence, Lorna," Nicky rapidly interrupted. "There's a part of you that wants me to leave huh? So you can continue to suffer in silence all by yourself? Well, I'm not giving into that shit. I'm not gonna fucking leave you and let you end up dead from starving every last cell in your body of any amount of energy. I love you too much to let that happen. Why can't ya see how good you are, kid? I don't get it. Why do you have to do this to yourself?"
Overwhelmed, the thought popped in her head. She was overwhelmed—incredibly overwhelmed. Nicky's comments spun through her mind and she wasn't sure if they were true or not. Was there some part of her that secretly desired the pain she was causing herself? She shook her head.
"This is too much," Lorna said, shaking her head and forcing herself away from the both of them. "It's too much. All too much." The words repeated in a near chant-like fashion. She edged her way to the very tip of the sofa and pushed herself up with her hands smashing into the cushion. However, the second she stood up from the cushion her vision became hazier and hazier. The voices became more and more muffled until everything around her went silent and dark.
