Oh man. Oh man guys. This is WAY too late. I'm so sorry to all of you who were reading this. In all honesty, I was losing interest in continuing this. I just wasn't feeling the story anymore. But I don't like the idea of completely stopping a story without completing it, and an idea blossomed today, so Chapter 13 was finally completed! The story still needs some more chapters, but I'm not sure when I'll get to those, so l hope you like reading this one.
I do not own Wreck It Ralph, however, the characters of Lemona Lime and Angelina Fruite Cake are my OCs. Please read, review, and enjoy!
Chapter 13
Instead of being soothing and helping her get to sleep, the softness of the mattress underneath Lemona made her uneasy. She tossed back and forth restlessly, desperately trying to sleep, but it was just too comfy and too different from what she had grown used to after nine long months. The fact that she couldn't feel a dip in the mattress beside her was just another brutal reminder that Turbo was no longer with her. He was in a prison cell in Hero's Duty all by himself, just like Lemona would have been if it hadn't been for Angelina.
The feeling of her child underneath her hand was the only thing that kept her from hyperventilating and having a panic attack. Her child's skin and hair was even softer than the baby clothes she was wearing, and Lemona could hear her sweet, soft breaths as she slept easily. Lemona briefly wished she could trade places with her child so she could get a good night's sleep too, but she quickly dashed away the thought. She would never want her child to be in the mess that she was living in right now.
Suddenly Angelina started to shift underneath her mother's hand. Small gasps and other sounds of development told Lemona that she was no longer sleeping soundly, and when the sounds became wails, that was solid evidence of the fact. Lemona sat upright in a flash and panic began overriding her system. What was she supposed to do? She couldn't just sit there; she needed to make Angelina stop crying.
"Shh shh shh," she soothed, sitting up and carefully picking up Angelina. She found it easy to slide her child into her arms, and when she was sure that she was holding her properly, she brought Angelina close to her chest and started rocking back and forth, hoping that would help. At first it did, but then the crying started up again, and as Lemona stroked her cheek, she felt Angelina turning her head towards her hand and heard lips smacking repeatedly. All of these actions left Lemona trying to solve the puzzle. Was Angelina hungry?
An idea blossomed in Lemona's tired mind and she tried it instinctively, willing to do anything to get her child to sleep so she could hopefully do the same. She carefully set Angelina back into her crib, and then removed her nightshirt, exposing the breasts she technically shouldn't have had. Then she reached down, picked up Angelina once again, and brought her close to them.
Angelina instantly latched on, and the sound of her swallowing milk soon filled the room, replacing the crying. Lemona looked down at her child with wonder, feeling light with the joy of knowing she was doing something right for once. But when Angelina was done feeding and began crying again, the feeling vanished. "Now what do I do?" she thought, despair filling her and making her want to start crying as well. Maybe she wasn't meant to be a mother. She couldn't even keep her daughter happy for five minutes!
But another instinct ran through her brain, and after processing the thought, she carefully shifted Angelina, resting her face-down on her knees. Supporting her head and neck with one hand, Lemona used her other one to rub Angelina's back gently, hoping that would help cease the crying. Sure enough, after some rubs, a burp was heard. Lemona would have smiled at the sound, but the feeling of something wet along the side of her leg made her gasp. Her baby was spitting up! Was that normal? Did she need to see a doctor? Reaching beside her, Lemona grabbed a part of the coverer she was sleeping with and used a section of it to wipe her child's mouth and around it. Thankfully, Angelina didn't start crying again, so Lemona placed her in her crib yet again, and then settled under her own covers, hoping to try to get to sleep again.
It wasn't easy, but she finally settled into an uncomfortable doze, continuing to toss and turn even as she slept. Thoughts of Turbo, along with the things Vanellope had said to her about Angelina's code echoed in her mind, turning into dark nightmares that she was unable to awaken from. What was Vanellope trying to accomplish by keeping her and Turbo separated? Was she hoping her own negative feelings towards the man would somehow rub off on her and make her never want to see him again? It seemed pretty clear to Lemona that she didn't plan on reuniting the two of them. Was she supposed to feel happy about that? True, she wouldn't miss the punishments Turbo inflicted upon her, but she'd always understood the reasoning behind them. She wondered how the others planned on teaching her right from wrong.
"If only I wasn't a glitch," Lemona whispered, turning on her side and now talking to her sleeping baby girl. "If I could get through the passageway on top of the Rainbow Bridge, I'd run away and take you somewhere new where nobody could find us. That way, I wouldn't feel so confused, and we'd live a wonderful, happy life together. Who knows? Maybe I'd even find a way to get you to see your daddy. Would you like that?"
Angelina let out a soft sigh that sounded like a coo, and Lemona took that as a yes. "Yeah," she whispered, sighing deeply as well, "I'd like that too." She rubbed her eyes, and her hands came back damp, but she just couldn't find it in her to care anymore. She just closed her eyes, ready for sleep to take her away from Sugar Rush, even if only for a couple of hours.
"Hoo hoo! I'd like that too Sunshine!"
Lemona didn't know she was capable of moving as quickly as she did until she heard that voice. With absolutely no hesitation she had rolled out of bed and now stood in front of Angelina's pen, guarding her protectively. "Who's there?" she demanded, despite the fact that she knew the answer of her question before she'd even asked it. It would take more than a day apart for her to forget that voice.
"Now, now Lemon Drop. There's no reason to get so defensive. You always get so over-excited over everything."
The insult flew over Lemona's head, which was darting in all directions. She covered every inch of the bedroom, but with only a tiny night light giving off any luminance, it was nearly impossible to see. Given by Vanellope with the hopes of calming the mother and child earlier, now the slowly shifting green and yellow light being cast out added to the eeriness of what was happening.
"Where are you?" Once the words came out, Lemona was shocked at the sound of her own voice. Hadn't she once sounded strong, brave, and confident? Why did her words now seem so quaky, passive, and desperate? Turning her hands into shaking fists and choking down the growing nausea, she tried to speak again. "This…this isn't possible."
"Why not? Because you saw me dragged away by Calhoun to be locked up inside of her game? Do you still feel bad about that Lemon Pop? You know you should, don't you? After all, it was your fault."
"No," The room was starting to spin, and Lemona had to grab onto the playpen behind her for support. This was wrong, this was all so wrong. She wanted to tell herself she'd heard wrong, but she knew in her sinking heart that every word had been crystal clear. "No, it wasn't. It wasn't my fault." She couldn't even tell if her gasped out sentences were directed towards Turbo's voice, or if she was trying to convince herself.
"Don't bother arguing with yourself; you know I'm right." Turbo's voice took on a cold tone that chilled every corner of the bedroom like frost. It froze Lemona's feet to the ground, and her hands at her sides so she couldn't cover her ears. Relentlessly, the voice that shouldn't have been there continued to belittle her in its condescending fashion. "When I was grabbed by that witch lady, all you did was sit there and beg like the pathetic weakling you are. You didn't even fight."
"I…I couldn't…" Her excuses were weak, Lemona knew it as soon as she spoke, and that only worsened things, as it proved the second insult, which had worked and stung her hard, true. "I…I had to take care of the baby."
"Ah yes, thank you for reminding me." The sense of fingers running their way through her hair made Lemona jerk around so she was facing her sleeping child's pen. Of course, there was nobody else there, leaving her to wonder, not for the first time, if she was going insane. Gazing down at her peacefully sleeping girl, Lemona wondered how she could not sense that right above her, Lemona was in agony. Mothers were meant to know when their children were suffering, why was it that it didn't work the other way around?
"How is it that mere hours after I was taken away, you thought that it would be a good idea to blatantly ignore my wishes and give my child the name I specifically told you I didn't like? Was it too difficult for your stupid little brain to wrap your head around the fact that my child was supposed to be named Axle Speed? Why didn't you just slap the name Vanellope on that birth certificate if you were planning on insulting me?"
All of the joy Lemona had felt when putting the pen to the birth certificate suddenly became a memory she wished she could forget. Had that really been a stupid and selfish deed? It hadn't felt like it at the time, but joy had a way of making one feel that whatever they were doing was okay, even if it truthfully wasn't. "I…I wasn't trying to insult you. I would never…But…But she's not just yours. I'm the one that gave birth to her."
"Oh, so you think that just because I'm not there, you have some sort of hold on her?"
"No, of course not! But…I am going to have to take care of her."
The voice was silent, and for a moment, Lemona thought she had somehow managed to get it to leave. But her hopes were short-lived, as a new sound began developing. It started out low, and quiet, and Lemona felt it was quite dark and sinister. Gradually it built up until finally it exploded and she realized it was laughter. A sporadic sound that reverberated around the room, constantly hitting her head-on and making her headache worsen. It wasn't his normal chuckle she was used to hearing that could bring a smile to her face. It was an insane shrieking cackle that was out of place and in a way worse than the cold voice she'd heard earlier. Angelina didn't even stir, which told Lemona that she was the only one hearing it.
Thankfully, it eventually died down, and Turbo was speaking again, though there was still a chuckle in his words. "Oh my dear," he tutted, and Lemona could practically see him shaking his head solemnly. "You don't really think you can take care of this child by yourself, do you?"
A flicker of a memory lit up Lemona's broken mind. Begin to shake all over again, she tried to put it together with what Turbo was saying now, but no matter how hard she tried, the pieces didn't fit. "But…but you once said I was going to be a wonderful mother."
That was the wrong thing to say, because it started up the insane laughter all over again, making Lemona feel even smaller than she already did. Shrinking inside of herself, she could barely protest, "Well you did."
"Oh my sweet little Lemon Pop," He was no longer shrieking, but Turbo's words were gasped out between chuckles when he spoke again. "Did you really think that I meant you would be a great mother without me? I think we both know that you aren't capable of much without me around."
There it was: the dreaded fear confirmed. As much as Lemona tried to wrack her brain for a list of things she could do without him, she couldn't think of a single thing. And as the thought bounced around in her brain and taunted her, slowly but surely, her fists clenched tighter so her nails drew blood, her heavy panting breathing became snarls and growls, and her fear developed into something much darker and all too familiar.
As she lost herself to her anger, Turbo's voice whispered one final taunt. "See? You can't even control yourself without me."
And then she snapped.
Her head no longer felt dizzy; now it was muffled as though plugged up with cotton candy, and the only thing she could hear was the blood roaring in her ears as she wrenched herself away from her child's playpen. Heart racing like a kart on the track, she allowed herself to scream and grabbed a pillow, easily ripping it into two pieces. One piece of the carnage was dropped, and the other was used as a weapon. Lost in her fit, Lemona ran around the bedroom, swinging it like a baseball bat and allowing it to connect with everything that crossed its path. Sugar glass jars and other unimportant items flew off of a vanity table, breaking upon impact with the floor, and a second swing shattered the vanity's mirror. Framed pictures on the walls were pounded down, and the nightlight plugged into the wall was unattached with one swift kick, sending the entire room into blackness. Still Lemona continued to shriek and throw herself around, feeling nothing but an intense desire to express every particle of her anger.
Suddenly the room was flooded with candy colored light. Whirling around to face the source, Lemona saw the doors to the room kicked open, and a cluster of people standing in them. Ralph was the first person she saw, at the very front. The way he was holding his fists in front of him told her he'd been responsible for opening the doors. Behind him were the donut cops, whose names Lemona had never been able to remember, staring into the room as though they'd never seen it before. On Ralph's right hand side stood Felix, also staring mouth agape at the sight before him. His lips moved, but Lemona could still only hear the blood in her ears.
And then Lemona's heart sunk to her toes as Vanellope came up around Ralph from his left side. Clad in peppermint green pajamas, her hair out of its ponytail and flying in every direction, she must have just jumped out of bed and booked it to get here. Eyes wider than the wheels on her kart, she was staring inside silently too. But she wasn't staring at the room. She was staring directly at Lemona, but not with sheer astonishment. She was looking at her as though Lemona were a fierce wild-cat that she'd caught just about to give the last attack to take the life from its prey. Her body was locked in place and tears were welling up in the bottom of her eyes. She was afraid of her.
Shame quickly chased out all of the anger, and Lemona released her grip on the half-pillow. Her own eyes widened as they darted around and really absorbed the chaos she'd unleashed. A piercing wail hit her ears, and she gasped at the immediate recognition of the sound. Angelina! Was she alright? Or had she been the sole victim of the incident? Lemona couldn't even turn around to look; If she turned around and saw her child injured by the results of her own hands, Lemona would never be able to forgive herself. Her head was already starting to swim with guilt.
Turbo had been right. She couldn't even take care of herself, let alone a baby by herself.
Vanellope finally took a step forward, and to Lemona's horror, started to speak. "Lemona…"
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" was the first thing Lemona could think to say, and it came out in her own hysterical scream. Angelina's own crying grew louder as a result, only serving as a bitter reminder of Lemona's incompetence. Her body shook, her knees became weak, and she fell to the floor, where she curled into a tiny ball and began rocking back and forth, her hands shoved over her ears, and began mumbling, "Come back; I need you. Come back; I need you."
She would have continued doing that for the rest of the night had Vanellope not grimly motioned for the donut cops to knock her out with one swift shock from a Taser.
Waking up was an unpleasant experience, as her head was pounding like the beats in a dub step song. Unwillingly emitting a pained groan, Lemona's eyes were forced open, and the first thing she saw was that she was in prison. Rolling off the prison cot, (which had been more comfortable to sleep on then the other bed, but that could have been because she was so heavily knocked out) she made her way to the bars and pressed her face against them so she could speak to the person watching her on the other side. "You know, this isn't the best way to get me to trust you."
"I'm sorry," Vanellope sounded sincere, but that could have just been because Lemona's head still felt quite fuzzy. "This was the only place I could think to bring you so you wouldn't hurt yourself or anybody else when you woke up. We weren't sure if you were going to have another panic attack."
The reminder of what had transpired earlier snapped Lemona out of her daze with a horrified gasp. "Angelina! Is she—"
"She's fine," interrupted Vanellope. "It took a little bit of time to get her to stop crying, but once we did, Felix had gotten Calhoun, and she took care of her. You know, if it wasn't for her job, I think she'd probably consider having kids of her own. She's really good with them."
Lemona had nothing to say in response, so the space between the two girls filled with a pregnant silence. She kept a solemn gaze on Vanellope, and was astonished to see Vanellope could equally match it, despite being a child, while Lemona was still in the body of an adult. Lemona ended up being the one to look away first, awkwardly waiting for something to happen. Was there nothing that could crack this girl who was stuck in a position of responsibility and power, forced to deal with so many unpleasant situations? Lemona had already cracked more times than she could count, and the fact stung like a wasp.
"I didn't want to believe it was true. But I guess now I have to."
Lemona looked up again at Vanellope's solemn tone and saw that again, Vanellope's eyes were watering. But she made no move to even acknowledge the tears as she spoke, and Lemona knew exactly what she was talking about without her even saying. "Lemona, why didn't you tell me that this was still a problem?"
The last time she'd thought about the possible consequences of having Vanellope know about Lemona's rages had been back before Turbo had taken her, but she still remembered her reasons for keeping silent. "Because I didn't want to lose you. But it doesn't matter, because I already have, and it's all because I'm weak!" Tightening her grip on the bars and choking on a growing lump in her throat, Lemona found herself proving her point again. "Vanellope please, I'm begging you, you have to let me see him! He's the only one that can help me!"
"Lemona, you could never lose me! You're one of my best friends! I'm the one who's scared of losing you!"
Lemona found her breath catching at the proclamation. Vanellope, who was now openly sobbing, continued to speak, not even noticing Lemona's shock. "I swear, I'm trying to help you, I really am! But you won't let yourself lean on me!"
"Because he's the only one I can lean on! He's the only one who can touch me without causing me to lose control over my entire body! I don't care whether it's right or wrong anymore, I just need him!"
"He may not have control over your body Lemona, but he's got control of your mind, and it's making you unhealthy! Please, believe me when I say that I stand by what I told you earlier. I don't want to hurt you; I want to help you so you can be strong again. You shouldn't have to rely on him all the time. You can be your own person again, no matter how long it takes to get there."
Was it possible that Vanellope was being sincere? She certainly sounded it, and the fact that she was still crying silently after her speech suggested that the tears weren't fake. It all seemed to boil down to Lemona's desires. Was she content with being weak? No, of course not. But was she willing to become a strong person like Vanellope said she had once been if it meant leaving Turbo behind for the second time?
"It's your choice," Vanellope suddenly added, her eyes looking into Lemona's as though reading her innermost thoughts. "I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do. You should be free to make your own choices, and not let me or Turbo choose for you."
Her choice. It was her choice. When was the last time she'd been able to make a choice without someone telling her whether it was right or wrong other than herself? Lemona couldn't even remember.
"But what if I make the wrong choice?" she whispered. "What if my choices result in something bad happening?"
"That's a risk that everybody takes when they make decisions," Vanellope lightly smiled. "Before I met you I had to make my own hard choices. I could have hidden inside of Diet Cola Mountain for the rest of my life, or allowed myself to get locked up forever in the Fungeon, never to know the joys of racing. Or, I could do everything in my power to get onto the track, where I thought I belonged. And when I made my decision, there were bumps along the way, and lots of bad things happened. But I stuck to my choice because I knew what I wanted, and in the end, not only did I get to race like I wanted, but now I'm the President of Sugar Rush."
Lemona was silent again after the speech. She had known bits and pieces of Vanellope's life story, but it had been long forgotten. Now reminded, it opened up a tiny beam of light in her beating heart. If Vanellope was right, maybe there was a chance that she could make herself a strong person again. Goodness knows she would have to be one if she wanted to take care of Angelina. And she really did want to be a good mother. That had been her main goal all along.
So, with an image her beautiful baby girl firmly implanted in her mind, she looked up at Vanellope and whispered as calmly as she could, "Okay. I'll try to trust you."
Please remember to review this so I know what you think. Was the end of this too rushed? Please let me know! Bye guys, and thanks for all of your support!