Author's Note: Thank you, vausesandspanishharlem, Unnamed Guest, and Shirayuki55. I'm so sorry it's taken me four months to finally update this...I've been so into writing Valley of Sorrow that no inspiration came to me for this one...well, until tonight. I'll be shocked if anyone even cares about this story anymore. This chapter probably isn't the best either since it's shorter than I planned. But here it is. Feel free to review; I always appreciate and cherish those so very much.
Chapter Six
The door's creaking open mid-morning captures the attention of both young women who occupy the chairs that rest beside a large bay-window. A seemingly middle-aged woman of Hispanic descent comes walking in with a kind smile on her face and white coating covering over her floral-patterned dress—alerting them that she must be the therapist their doctor mentioned. She walks over to them and holds out a hand to shake theirs with.
"I'm Gloria Mendoza," she warmly greets, a light Spanish accent clearly heard. She gives a kind shake to each girl's hand before grabbing the empty chair from the other side of the room and setting a few feet in front of theirs. Occupying herself in the chair, she fold her hands in her lap and stares across at the two others. "Doctor Vause thought it'd be a good idea for me to stop by and meet with ya. I'm a therapist here in the hospital—work a lot with people who have been through traumatic events."
Nodding naturally, Lorna grabs her friend's hand—who she notices shifting uncomfortably in her chair—and instinctively feels a smile take form on her face. The therapist's voice is strongly soothing to her ears. Gives off a slight familiarity of a time before the abduction; yet, she can't make up the entirety of such memory. "I'm Lorna and this is my best friend, Nicky. She's not real sure about this…yet," she informs the older woman while stroking her fingers lightly over Nicky's knuckles.
"I know the thought of talking to a therapist isn't anyone's favorite thing to do but sometimes it's the best thing for ya. Believe me, I know what it's like to deal with trauma. I've endured some myself when I was in my twenties…and it's not easy working through it, but I promise you both that it will get easier. It will slowly help to take away some of the hurt," Miss Mendoza softly assures, eyes gazing compassionately between the two girls.
"But how the fuck does talking about it change shit? It ain't gonna do a damn thing but make us relive it all over again and I'm not doing that," Nicky glares displeasingly at the short-haired brunette, folding her arms defiantly over her chest. That's the last thing she wants is to discuss anything that happened with some woman they don't even know. Some woman who's only listening because it's her job.
The pain that so clearly emanates from her best friend's voice causes Lorna to wrap a tender arm around her shoulder. She gives a soft kiss to her head and sighs. On some level, she knows Nicky's words are true. Talking about all that they've gone through isn't going to change it. It's not going to give them those ten years back, she can agree with. But keeping all of that inside—that will only deepen their pain and anguish.
Gloria exhales slowly. Her words show just how much hurt she's harboring. And why it's so crucial for the both of them to be signed on as her patients. "You're right that it won't change what's already been done. But what it will do is help ya move on from it. Give ya the support ya need to work through all of this pain you've been left with. The both of you."
Lorna nods her agreement, letting her eyes focus on the flustered redhead beside her. "Let's just give this a chance, hon. Please?"
"Fine," a reluctant sigh of defeat, "But only if we do this together. I'm only agreeing to this if it's something you want, kid."
The brunette tightens her arm around Nicky's shoulder and lets out a faint groan. Of course, Nicky won't think of herself. She shakes her head sadly at the thought. It's both an adoring and frustrating trait of hers. "We're gonna do everything together…I promise, Nicky. This will be good for both of us."
"I'm glad to hear it's settled. You're making a good decision, girls. Therapy will go a long way for the both of ya; I promise. It's helped me and I know it will help you as well."
With a shrug, Nicky stares intensely over at Miss Mendoza. "We're not talkin' about shit today. I'm not ready and I don't think Lorna is either…no matter how much she says she is," her tone stern and hard. She needs time before she has the energy to open up to anybody about the abuse. It's still too fresh—too raw to discuss.
"Nicky, please don't be so mean to her," Lorna softly whispers, laying the other's head lightly against her shoulder. Her fingers brush soothingly through her thick curls. She gives an apologetic glance towards the therapist along with a half-smile. "I'm sorry. Nicky's had a real rough few days in here—she doesn't mean to be so angry. But yeah…maybe today's not the best time to talk about anything."
"There's no need to apologize. You two have been through a lot; it's completely understandable that you're not ready to bring any of it up and I'm not going to force it. I just thought I'd come meet ya guys today and set up a plan of care for the future," Gloria kindly points out, opening her appointment book to a blank page. She takes a pair of reading-glasses out of her coat's pocket and places them loosely over her nose.
Her eyes search through the dates until she comes across one that's seemingly untouched. She looks back up between the two women, "How about we meet again two weeks from today at ten in the morning? I'll give ya one a my cards with my office number so you'll know where to come."
Rubbing a hand comfortingly through her friend's frizzy hair, Lorna smiles and nods. "We'll be there," she agrees, taking the piece of paper and setting it on the small end-table beside her chair. "Thanks, Miss Mendoza. It was real nice meeting ya."
"Oh, you're very welcome," the Hispanic woman answers with a warm smile. She carefully gets up and starts making her way back towards the door. "And, please, just call me Gloria. You girls take care and I'll see ya soon."
Finally. Finally, Nicky ecstatically thinks as she finds herself throwing on a pair of freshly-bought clothes, they're getting the hell out of this place. A smile looms on her face at the idea. The new life she and Lorna will gain—freedom. Not having to fear for their lives almost every minute of each day or worrying about what breath could have been their last. No more of that. It's such a relief. A big, huge, relief.
Red watches the two girls gather their belongings with a warmth filling her heart. It brings a comfort to her that they've both agreed to come home with her. Where she can keep watch over them and try her hardest to aide in their healing. Mothering the wounded has always been her calling; one of the many reasons she took to becoming a police officer. It wasn't because she liked to put away criminals—no she did it to help heal them. She knows there's always a reason for one's actions and prisoners are no exceptions.
"How's it feel to be getting outta here?" The Russian woman throws out the inquiry once the three are all settled into her car. Her eyes peer through the rearview mirror at them. A soft smile sitting on her face. Their closeness melts her heart. Though what they've endured is—no doubt—undeniably agonizing, at least they had each other. Something, she sees, was the only way for them to survive their captivity.
"Like a fresh start," is Nicky's honest reply. She snakes her arms protectively around the shorter woman beside her, tugging her to snuggle against her chest. Her lips stroke a warm kiss against the pale flesh of her cheek. It is a fresh start, she internalizes; knowing her mother probably hasn't even cared to look for her, she can create a new family. One with people who truly care about her. Who would never abandon her the way Marka did or torture her the way their abductor had.
A comment like that only makes Red's heart fill heavier. Heavy with both warmth and sorrow for the pair of them. How neither of their families seemed interested in finding them is beyond her. If she had any children and one of them had gone missing, she'd move Heaven and Earth to search for them. "I'm happy you both agreed to stay with me. I can certainly use the company and I'm sure you sweet girls could fare from a caring person for once, huh? Whatever you two need, all you have to do is say the word. I'll do whatever I can to help."
The minute they enter inside the house, a strong rush of comfort plagues through Lorna's body. There is a warmth it gives off—a security that visiting one's grandparents' house would instill. An intense aroma of vanilla and cinnamon fills her nose as she takes an intense look around the room. It's a beautiful home—a home that—no doubt—seems to be filled with warmth and affection. Not anything like the house she and Nicky spent the last decade in, she thinks. That house was a living nightmare. A house of terror.
"Wow," she breathes out as they follow Red into the antique-designed kitchen. Her head shakes in astonishment. "This is the prettiest house I ever seen. And it smells so good. Do ya live here all alone, Red?"
Making her way over to the stove where her hand-made Russian tea-kettle sits, the older woman can't stop the soft smile that spreads across her face. She nods while carrying the kettle over to the sink to fill it with fresh water. "My husband passed away a few years ago and so I've been the only person to occupy this house. But now I've got you two. You girls like tea? I have a new one I just bought—some kinda lemon ginger; it's supposed to be good for keeping down stress," she asks, setting the now full kettle back in its place and turning the dial for the gas.
The two give a slight nod in response before taking a seat at the wooden table that sits against a flower-patterned wall. Nicky takes in all her surroundings and feels a bout of warmth run through her. She's never been in a house that has felt so…homey. This is a place she won't mind staying, even if it's only a temporary solution. A house she can feel safe in; one that doesn't have a cold-hearted woman like Marka living in it. Or feels so stuffy that she can't even put her feet on the ground without having to wipe it each time.
"I'm more of a coffee drinker but I don't mind trying a little tea," she finally speaks up, throwing a half-smile over towards the Russian woman. "Thank you, Red, really. You didn't have to do this—to take two random girls in like ya have. We really appreciate that, though."
Red takes three cups from the china-cabinet and sets them on the counter while the water slowly heats up. Waiting for it to finish, she heads over to the table and sits herself between the two girls. She grabs each of their hands, smiling warmly at them. "Of course I had to; you girls need me, I sense it. And I'm happy to help. I've always wanted to be a mother but was never blessed with any children…so the least I can do is take two sweethearts like you in and care for you."
The first night in a new place—new bed—it's almost too much for Lorna. It takes nearly an hour for her to finally fall asleep and when she does, she immediately regrets it. A nightmare rapidly ensues; she's automatically put right back at the torture chamber. That evil room where all she and Nicky endured was pain and agony. Where their abductor spent hours and hours inflicting all sorts of abuse on them.
In her own bed, in the a room across the hall, Nicky's immediately torn from her slumber by the familiar whimpers of her best friend. The whimpers that make her heart soar so heavily for her Lorna. She hurriedly throws off her covers, jumps out of bed, and frisks her way down the hall to the brunette's room. What she walks into shatters her hear tremendously.
Quickly, she crawls in the bed beside her and snakes her arms tightly around Lorna's quivering waist. Lips stroke against soft brown strands of hair. "Shh, shh," her voice soothes into her ear, fingers caressing its delicate flesh. "Everything's okay; we're safe, baby. We're safe. You're just having a nightmare…wake up, doll. Come on. I'm right here."
That soft, comforting, voice gradually lures a distressed Lorna from her unnerving rest. Eyes peep widely out of their teary lids. She throws her arms desperately around Nicky's neck, hiding her face in its crook. "I'm-I'm scared, Nicky," she sniffles, lips trembling against the redhead's skin.
"Baby, you don't needa be afraid. I'm right here; I've got you," Nicky murmurs, pulling her closer to her chest; she rests the side of her face tenderly over the top of her best friend's head. What hurts worse than her own pain is seeing Lorna this way. Seeing what used to be her sweet, bubbly, Lorna so broken and drained. A shell of the optimistic little girl she was when they were growing up. That's what hurts the most for her.
"He's gonna come find us," Lorna sobs out, hands grabbing tight around each of the other's cheeks. She peers at her with big—disoriented—orbs. "He's gonna find us and kill us, hon—we have to, we have to—"
"Stop, stop, stop," the older woman soothingly hushes, stroking her lips comfortingly over Lorna's quivering ones. She cradles her hands delicately around her tear-soaked cheeks and lets their foreheads brush together. "He's not coming anywhere near us again, my baby. He's in prison and there's nothing he can do to us anymore. You and me—we're safe, sweetie. I promise you we're safe. We got Red in our lives and she'll take care of us. We're gonna be okay here."
Sobs continue to shake through Lorna's petite body as she clings tightly to Nicky. To the only person in the world that she trust—the only person she knows will never lie to her or hurt her. She looks intensely into her eyes, noting the deep sincerity that seeps from them and nods her head slowly. "Red," she mumbles and nods again. "I-I forgot. I'm sorry…I'm sorry I woke ya, honey. I-I didn't mean to."
Laying herself down against the plush mattress, Nicky carefully takes Lorna's head and places it gently over top of her chest. She brushes a soft kiss atop her head, pulling on the comforter to wrap around the two of them. "Don't be," she whispers, lips touching warmly on the top of her head. "I rather sleep here with you anyway, Lorna. So I can hold ya and keep you warm. I love you so much, baby, and I promise we're gonna be okay. We'll always be okay if we have each other, yeah?"
Lorna meekly nods, cuddling her head closer to her friend's warmth. The warmth that always makes her feel safe and secure. The woman who always gives her the affection and love her heart craves. She wraps her arms tight around Nicky's neck and closes her eyes. "I love you, Nicky. You're the only person I trust." An honest answer, she knows; Nicky would give her life for her. There's no reason to not trust her words.
"I know, baby, I know. You're the only person I trust, too—but I think that will change the more we heal. We'll be able to trust more people and know that not everyone's out to hurt us. But until then I'm perfectly fine with just having you with me, my sweet Lorna baby."
The two women lay contently in the bed—snuggled into one another as much as they can be—and eventually drift back to sleep from the comfort and security being with each other provides for them.