Sophie ♥ Posted March 6, 2018 Share Posted March 6, 2018 The Calibeen saga is a series of stories - Audrey & Staycee, Lottie, and Velvet - that follow the events of a correctional reformatory, intent on making the worst people into the best. In as little as a year, patients leave the institution with a 0% reoffender rate. But how do they do it? These stories can be read in any order. Audrey & StayceeVelvet Lottie is a side-story to Audrey & Staycee that has less to do with the Calibeen institution itself and more to do with the people it creates. To follow along from Lottie's perspective, read A&S first. But if you want to enjoy the curious nature of this young girl and take the perspective of Cohen and Emerson, read Lottie before A&S! While A&S is a hardcore diaper story, Lottie is a gentle little story. Though there are ABDL elements, the strength of the story comes from the honest familial love between the characters. I'm going to be posting this one casually over the next few weeks. But the entire story is available on our Patreon in PDF and ePub format. Please consider supporting us! ~Sophie ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lottieby: Sophie & Pudding 1. Hello. I couldn't run when the sun was out, and it made things so much harder. The dry leaves crackled beneath my bare feet as I darted through the trees only ever visible as one shade darker than the black of the sky. I'd been running for three nights, the moonlight having left me on the first, and by now my knees were well skinned and my feet full of mud. I would've kept running past the clearing if I had shoes on, but the texture of the gravel had me freeze. A road? I backed up into the forest and ducked behind a fallen tree. The sky was starting to take on color, and the stars starting to dim. And then everything changed: two blinding lights broke through the darkness and lit the road up like a river. It was late in the night, almost well into that point of day where you might still call it morning instead; the sort of time where it was unusual to see any other human being at all, let alone a svelte form stumbling out of the tree line and onto the road and interrupting the flow of your embarrassingly loud singing. I slowed down, expecting the girl to dart away like a frightened deer - but she didn't. She just stood there, awash in the flooding illumination of my brights. She was a waif-like young thing, skin soft and slightly translucent beneath a thin layer of smeared dirt, her hair tangled and knotted and a look of weak exhaustion in eyes that sparkled brilliantly blue regardless. I cocked my head and opened my door, stepping out of the green '91 Thunderbird that I'd learned to drive in when I fifteen. "Hey there. Whatcha doing out here on your own? There are bears in the woods, you know. You lost?" I watched her respond to the sound of my voice, taking a minute to click that the brights were probably making it hard for her to see me before I fumbled at the lever and dropped them down to a lower setting. Her eyes focused and I smiled, my pale freckled cheeks raising and my hazel eyes only shining concern back at the girl. I brushed a string of orange curls from my eyes and repeated the question. "Hey, love… are you lost? Do you need a ride?" "Um… yes… please…" My throat was sore, even with the simple, quiet words. I hadn't had any water in nearly two days now, the stream I'd crossed long behind me. I tugged the lavender nightgown down to my knees and slowly approached the green car. The woman seemed nice enough. And with a car like this, she couldn't have an affiliation to… no, definitely not. So I climbed into the passenger seat of the car, my heart pounding. I was safe, so why didn't I feel it? "Where are you headed?" The simplicity in the woman's voice was so jarring. No ulterior motives… "Um… just… south. As far south as you're going…" I'd been traveling that way since the start; I had to keep consistent. No point running if I wound up losing my direction. And so I'd mark in the dirt every day when the sun would set exactly which way I should go. Then I'd pick a star and follow it, eyes on the sky. "Well, I'm headed home right now, gum-drop." I slipped the car into gear and smiled at the girl, watching as her fingers tugged at the hem of her nightgown anxiously. Middle of the night, pajamas, looking like she'd been out in the woods for days? There was a tragedy at play here. "You in trouble?" The girl didn't reply, though, and I figured it was probably a stupid question to ask; if she was, she wouldn't tell a stranger anyway. "I'm Cohen." "Nice to meet you…" The texture of my voice was much more evident in complete sentences; I wished the woman next to me had offered me a glass of water or something. Then again, we were in her car, not her kitchen. "I'm… um… Lottie…" I'd need to go by that name now, wouldn't I? What choice did I have? "Thanks for this…" I picked at the dried dirt on my palms while Cohen drove down the road; it was so much faster than walking, and with the sun coming up, it meant extra ground I could cover. I smiled over at my pseudo-savior with gratitude. She couldn't have been older than thirty. "Nice to meet you, too, Lottie. That's an uncommon name, I think." Then again, so was Cohen. "Seems like an odd time of night to be out for a walk in your pajamas." It wasn't that I was nosy, per se, I just wanted to let the girl know that I was ready to listen if she wanted to talk. She looked weary, worn down and tired, like she'd ran dry a lifetime ago and was now just running on fumes. We pulled off the road onto a side-road, disappearing into the woods for a few minutes before we emerged into a field that sprawled as far as the eye could see in the dim monochrome that the early-morning cast across the entire landscape. Prominent, however, was the large two story house that we approached. It wasn't much, really: a house on a few acres and a dream to one day have an animal or six. But it was mine - well, it was ours. But it was a start in life most people my age hadn't yet managed. The car rolled to a stop and I sat quietly for an extra minute. I wasn't sure when I'd have the luxury of a soft padded seat again, or the mild air conditioning that the car used to counter the summer morning's heat. Cohen was kind, though, and clearly concerned. She clicked the door open on her side of the car and I followed suit, climbing to my unstable bare feet in the lush grass. "Thank you… for the ride, I mean." The sun was just starting to tint the sky - red in the east. I could use that and follow south until I found a place to sleep. I'd probably gotten further in Cohen's car than I had in the three days walking, and for that I was very thankful. 2 Link to comment
Wannatripbaby Posted March 6, 2018 Share Posted March 6, 2018 A story about honest familial love from Sophie & Pudding? But I just started Velvet! Oh, I'm so conflicted! Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 7, 2018 Author Share Posted March 7, 2018 2. Thank you for this. "Come on in gum-drop, we'll get you a bath drawn and I'll make you something to eat." It was only apparent now from what I was wearing that I'd come from my job - the resident night doctor at the veterinarians office in the closest town. It wasn't much to speak of, but it paid well enough to get by: at least with my husband’s salary as a teacher to augment. It did mean we didn't see much of each other, though. My eyes ran up and down her body and I smiled in satisfaction. "I bet I’ve even got something you can change into." The thought of food was the greatest incentive I could have been given. I hadn't eaten in over three days, and even then my meals were small. My mouth would've watered over the idea of broccoli, a notoriously hated food, though it wasn't where my mind wandered. And the idea of changing out of the nightgown - light purple, frilled, and clearly juvenile; a constant reminder of my fear - left me lightheaded. But I was dangerous… and Cohen was very nice. "I… don't want to impose, really…" "Psh, it's no big deal. Emerson won't mind, either; our house is clearly too big for the two of us." I smiled and locked my car, wandering up to the door of the house and slipping my keys inside. Lottie was right behind me, though she hadn't yet officially accepted my invitation. I stepped inside and turned to look at the girl. She looked so childish in her nightie, so vulnerable with those big blue eyes that sparkled in the early morning light. Her fingers tugged at her hem, and she bit her lip a little; she was clearly troubled. "Hey. It's okay. It's no imposition, I promise." "Yeah… um… thank you, very much…" I wasn't sure I could say many more words before getting myself a drink. I should've asked, but Cohen had already invited me into her home. But… oh! "Could I use the bathroom, do you think?" She nodded and I followed her inside, tracking dirt into the foyer. "Down that hall, first door on the left," she said. I didn't waste any time in hurrying down the hall, slipping into the powder room - no tub - and flipping on the flow. I dipped my head into the sink sideways, slurping at the stream of clear water pouring from the faucet. Nothing in my life had ever tasted as good as that water had. Ordinarily, I would've been upset at the dirt tracked in on the floor; we didn't get very many visitors and our home was our home. We liked things a certain way. But seeing the enthusiasm fill the girls movements had been worth it. I wandered into the kitchen, resolving to tidy up when she was in bed, and peeled open the refrigerator door. Sitting on a tray on the second shelf was the majority of a roast chicken, surrounded by potatoes and pumpkin, baked carrots and corn. It wouldn't be as good reheated, but Emerson knew me enough to know I'd love it anyway. I pulled the tray out of the fridge and slid it into the oven, turning up the heat and sighing. In ten minutes there'd be a pretty good hot meal for me and my new guest. After filling myself with water from the faucet, I used a toilet for the first time in three days. And maybe that was when it hit me. I'd actually escaped. I was free. My life was mine again. They wouldn't find me if I was smart about it, though it would be a lonely life. I'd need a fake ID. I'd need to find a safe town, maybe in another state. But I was free. I wandered back out to the kitchen, noticing the footprints I'd left on the carpet on my way to the bathroom. I looked down at my feet while I walked - they weren't leaving marks anymore, but they were filthy. "I'm sorry about the carpet…" She'd regret inviting me in. I'd have to go without food, without new clothes. It felt too soon… "It's okay. I don't usually sleep for a few hours after getting home from work - I like to wait for my husband to get up, so I can get it tidied." I took a sip from the cup of coffee I'd just finished pouring and motioned to the refrigerator. "Can I get you a drink? I'm heating up some food at the moment, should be ready in a few minutes. Then I'll draw you a bath and you can soak for a while; I bet it'll make you feel better." The little timer on the oven chimed and I pulled the tray out, the smell of roasted chicken and vegetables wafting throughout the kitchen. My stomach sank at the smell of the food, and I felt my entire body quiver with delight. I didn't care what it was or how much I'd get. I was just so hungry. Cohen dished out a large serving of the chicken and vegetable mixture onto two identical plates, then passed one of them to me with a fork. I knew it was inelegant, but I didn't stop to chew. Bite after bite after bite, and by the end of it, I lifted the plate to my lips and shoveled the rest into my mouth. Cohen watched me curiously as I put the plate down with shaking fingers. I changed my mind - much better than the water from the bathroom. "Sorry…" "Hungry, huh?" There wasn't any judgement in my eyes, simply curiosity and a small smile. I got up and fetched a bottle of Pepsi from the refrigerator, pouring out a tall glass and setting it down before the girl. "How long were you out there, Lottie? You don't have to tell me the details. I mean, you can if you want." I shrugged and pulled my hair back behind my ear. "But I get the impression something bad happened to you." I sipped at the Pepsi, though after one sip the whole glass was gone. Cohen poured me a second. I drank that one, too. "Couple days… I think." I couldn't tell her everything; she'd make me leave. And while I knew it was inevitable, I didn't want to go yet. She’d mentioned a bath. She’d mentioned new clothes. I wanted those things first. But how selfish was that? She'd already done so much… but I didn't want to go! Not yet. "We're about twenty miles from town in one direction and double that in the other. There's a few other farms here and there, but our nearest neighbor is a ways away. Whatever happened to you, gum-drop, you're safe here." I smiled and started to clear up plates; I wouldn't completely clean up until I'd drawn her a bath, but I wanted to straighten up a little. She'd been raped. It was all I could figure. She was… maybe fourteen? Fifteen? She had been picked up somewhere up the highway, abducted, raped and dumped in the woods. It was sickening. So I'd take care of her until she was ready to talk, and then I'd take her to the police when she was ready. "Thanks…" I felt sleepy; with all the food Cohen had offered me and all the walking I'd done, it was no surprise. Plus, I usually went to bed around this time, anyway. Morning had been my night. I climbed up from the table and pushed my chair in, looking down at the handprints the dirt left on the chair. Oh, and the seat. I was making such a mess… "I… I'm sorry, again. Ugh…" Maybe she'd offer that bath, now. It would certainly stop me from destroying her nice home. I smiled at the girl, giving a dismissive look at the chair with a casual shrug as I led the way to the staircase, making sure the girl was in tow. "Emerson will be asleep, but our bedroom is to the right. Your bedroom and the bathroom will be to the left, so we don't have to be too quiet. I'll get a bath going, and then find you something to wear. My clothes will be a bit big on you, but you should be okay." We got to the top of the stairs and I wandered down the hall to the left, opening two doors at the end. "This'll be your bedroom. I know it's spartan, but it's a guest room and we don't have guests very often." Still, it was pretty enough. A queen sized bed, a little television, a dresser and some tasteful decor. I wandered into the other door I'd opened and turned the faucets, the water splashing on the porcelain tub as I busied myself looking through scented oils to add. My room? She just meant as a place to sleep, obviously, but the words were intoxicating. It would be temporary, but at least for now, I had a place in this world. I decided not to pace around 'my' room too much, knowing full well I'd just get everything covered in dirt, and instead followed Cohen into the bathroom across the hall. To the right, past the stairs, was another hallway with a door at the end: her room and Emerson's. She was married, right? "Thank you for all this. The food and the bath and… all of it." "Happy to help, gum-drop. My sister went through something pretty similar a few years back, and a nice family helped her out." It was the first time I made any hint of the fact I had an idea what had happened, and I made sure to not let the focus dwell. The faucets squealed as I turned off the water flow and then knelt down beneath the vanity to pull out a towel and a wash cloth. "There's a laundry chute here." I pulled open the heavy metal drawer set into the wall as I took account of the bathroom; there was shampoo, conditioner, soap and toothpaste. That was everything, right? We needed to have guests over more often. "Just put your nightie in here. I'll go find you something cute to wear to bed and leave it in your room. Come downstairs when you're done and dressed, okay?" Her sister…? It couldn't have been the same as me, though, could it? No - she'd misinterpreted. Still, it was hard to wrap my head around. "Uh huh…" Cohen left the room, clicking the bathroom door closed behind her. I sighed and stripped out of the frilly purple nightgown and the obnoxiously similar panties. I made sure to search each of the garments for a tag before sending them down the chute - I couldn't leave any traces - but there were none. Hand made, clearly, and very good quality. Then I moved to the mirror. My room had a vanity, before I'd left - I could see myself every day - but with my skin coated in dirt, the short brown hair mangled, I looked so very different. Older, especially without the nightgown. "We have company." I'd debated going straight downstairs after leaving the cute two piece pajama set in the spare room, but figured it was best to talk to Emerson sooner rather than later. He mumbled and rolled over, looking at me with a small too-early-in-the-morning smile. "I found her on the side of the road, trembling, covered in dirt, starved and a little delirious." He nodded in understanding and I took a breath, smiling down at my husband. "I think something like what happened to Rikki happened. I want her to stay here for a while, okay? Just until she's ready to talk." "She can stay as long as she needs to." "She's in the bath right now. Think you could check with the police when you go into work today? She says her name is Lottie. Don't be specific, just see if there's any missing person reports." "You think that's a good idea, bug?" Emerson asked. "Yeah. Just wanna know if anybody is missing her. If they're not, we'll take care of her for a while." 1 Link to comment
Guilyn Posted March 8, 2018 Share Posted March 8, 2018 This is my favorite of all the stories I have read so far. I would love to see more stories set in this universe. Link to comment
LilLadyLexi Posted March 8, 2018 Share Posted March 8, 2018 Oooo. A new S&P story, I'm liking it so far! Link to comment
Pudding Posted March 8, 2018 Share Posted March 8, 2018 I'm so pleased yall are liking this! Link to comment
LilLadyLexi Posted March 8, 2018 Share Posted March 8, 2018 I'm gonna sound like a suckup but I enjoy all your stories. Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 9, 2018 Author Share Posted March 9, 2018 This is my favorite of all the stories I have read so far. I would love to see more stories set in this universe. Well hopefully Pudding and I can finish up Velvet, which officially makes three stories in this universe! We absolutely LOVE Mt. Calibeen. It's such an amazing project! Who knows, maybe we'll write more in the future? And people are always welcome to use Project Calibeen in their stories. <3 I'm gonna sound like a suckup but I enjoy all your stories. That means SOOOO much to us. I'm gonna try to put another chapter up tonight for Lottie and Velvet! Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 12, 2018 Author Share Posted March 12, 2018 3. You know the story. I'd never been so thankful to be clean. Well, there was one other time, but I didn't want to think about that. I dried myself off with the towel and looked at my hair in the mirror. It was still short but well over my ears and nearly touching my shoulders. Still, it was kept pretty. Having me pretty was always very important to them. I made my way back to 'my' room and slipped into the pajamas. They certainly added a different shape than my nightgown did. Most obviously, it was very evident my boobs were small, only As, if that. But I was so thankful to have pants again: I couldn't remember the last time I had pants on. "Hey, come on, sit down, I'll brush out your hair." She didn't have too much to begin with; a short style that was quite adorable in and of itself, and probably something she could manage on her own, but I was feeling maternal. I wandered into the living room and plucked a hairbrush off the side table before sitting down in one of two recliners in the tastefully decorated room and motioning to the floor in front of me. With the dirt all washed away and with the pajamas showing off her body, two things were very clear. First, she was very very pretty. Second, she was also very young, younger than I'd thought. After the bath and after changing, I'd really just wanted to lie down in bed and sleep, but Cohen had been so kind to me already. She'd offered me more than I could have hoped from any other person on this planet, and she promised to keep me safe, though I still had no idea why. Maybe I could do a little probing. So I sat in front of Cohen on the floor, my back facing her, as she started to brush out my short, damp hair. "You said something about your sister." I didn't want to come on too strong, but the curiosity had a good hold on me. "What happened to her…?" "She's a few years older than you; she's nineteen now but she was fifteen back then." We didn't talk about it, not at family gatherings and not with her around - Rikki had fought a long battle to get over things and we didn't want her to relapse - but talking about it with Lottie seemed to be without that risk. "She was on the way home from school and she saw a dog with its leg broken on the sidewalk, just sitting there, whimpering and whining. Poor thing. She stopped to help it, and next thing she knows, she's being bundled up into the back of a van and abducted. It was a trap, something to distract her. They left the dog for dead and took off down the street with my sister. She turned up on the side of the road three weeks later, dehydrated, beaten, bruised and on the edge of death. She'd been wandering deliriously for four days after they dumped her in the woods when they got bored.” She thought that happened to me? That I'd been kidnapped? That was… perfect. I smiled to myself - a smile that went unseen by my caregiver. It was the perfect alibi, the perfect reason for being out on that road in my condition. She'd never need to know the truth and I'd be safe. Maybe she'd even let me stay here longer. And as long as no one knew where I was, out here in the middle of nowhere, she wasn't in danger. "I'm twenty, by the way." I knew I didn't look it, not with everything that had happened. That little fact made me stop brushing her hair for a moment in disbelief. "You're twenty? Wow. That's… I'm sorry. I thought you were thirteen, at most. It's probably really weird to have me doting over you like a child, huh? I'm sorry." I wanted to keep brushing her hair, wanted to keep taking care of her, wanted to hear her story, but she was only eight years younger than me. I'd probably made her drastically uncomfortable. Thirteen?! Really?! Jesus Christ… "Um… well… I don't know. I guess. I don't know…" I climbed up off the floor, my hair mostly dry and brushed through several times. The disbelief was still evident on Cohen's face. Maybe I should've lied. Maybe she'd be less willing to have me stay now, and that thought brought a sickness to my stomach I couldn't imagine. I'd have to go out to the woods again. "I'm… sorry…" I wasn't sorry to Cohen, though; I was sorry I'd said what I'd said. I didn't want to leave… I wanted to sleep in a nice soft bed. I wanted to keep being safe, and I felt tears coming to my eyes. "I'm just… gonna go to bed… night." "Hey. Hey." I wasn't usually the most physical person in the world; my job required me to do a lot of touching and I guess that's why Emerson and I didn't cuddle at night outside of the usual business. But I took her hand in mine and that was a big thing for me, though she'd never know it. "I know you've been through a lot. And I know with Rikki…" I didn't want to make the comparison, but the more I watched her the more I saw the same signs in her eyes, her body language, her nervousness. "Rikki was very vulnerable, almost child-like. She wouldn't leave Mom's side for almost a year. I know I'm not family, but I do want to take care of you." My heart was racing. But her hand in mine reminded me so much of Clara, and I calmed down. She still wanted me here…? "But… I'm…" I wasn't sure 'an adult' was a proper conclusion to that sentence, but with everything Cohen thought - about me being a child, and about the truth - I wasn't sure how to explain. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be expected to be taken care of. And I couldn't stay forever; I had to make a life for myself, now. I had to get a job. But all that sounded so strenuous, and she was offering me an easy solution. I could stay here with Cohen, just for a little bit, just until I figured things out. "You've been hurt. I don't know what your story is, but I know you've been hurt. I know you probably feel broken. That was a word Rikki used a lot. She got better though, she moved past it. You can too. Whatever happened, you can move past it." I knew she couldn't stay forever and that she wouldn't want to, either; she'd probably be gone in a few days. But if we could at least figure out if anybody was missing her, we might be able to help get her back to her family. "So, twenty… wow. Most girls would kill to look as pretty and youthful as you. I know I would. What's your secret, gum-drop?" "I… really have no idea…" Cohen and I had sat down again, though I was across from her now on the other recliner. She really wanted to get to know me, which I wasn't against. The more connected she felt, the more likely she'd let me stay. And I wanted to stay, at least for now. "I was always short. I got teased a lot in high school. I guess that adds to it…" I wasn't horribly short, but five-four was shorter than every boy I'd gone to school with, and shorter than Cohen. I was shorter than Clara, too. "Teased? Well, I bet those girls were just jealous, that's all." The comment was meant to be reassuring, but Lottie only flashed a half-awkward smile and looked down at her hands in contemplation. I didn't want to be direct or pushy or presumptuous, but I ran over the pros and cons in my head for a few agonizing seconds before finally asking: "What were you doing out there in the woods, Lottie? I mean. I guess you know by now that I keep comparing you to Rikki. And I know it might be hard to talk about, especially so soon. But if you tell me, I could help you." I wanted to skirt the issue as long as I could, but she'd asked me directly. I didn't want to lie. Cohen had been so kind to me since the moment we met, and she'd opened up her home and her heart to me. But I couldn't tell her the truth, or I'd go back there… and I could probably score some sympathy if I was the same as her kid sister. So I shrugged my shoulders and looked at my feet. "It's what you think. I… I really can't talk about it. I just… you know the story well enough…" Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 12, 2018 Author Share Posted March 12, 2018 4. A few days. I got up and knelt down before the girl, taking her hand in mine as I smiled at her. She was so vulnerable, so scared, just like Rikki. And that's when I hugged her. I never hugged, but I put my arms around the girl and I held her close to me, speaking softly. "Don't worry, gum-drop. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again. You'll stay here as long as you need to, as long as it takes for you to feel like you can face the world again. Is there anybody we can call? Family? Friends? Just to let them know you're safe?" I shook my head and wiggled out of Cohen's hug. It wasn't that I didn't appreciate it; it just felt… strange, like I'd gotten it for the wrong reasons. Though I guess that action mirrored someone who had actually been raped pretty well since Cohen gave me a small knowing look and stepped back. "I… um… don't have anyone." It wasn't technically true, but it was as far as my new life went. I couldn't talk to my family ever again or my old friends. I was starting over. "Well, you've got me and Emerson; that's my husband, obviously. You'll meet him, probably tonight since I imagine you'll go to bed soon. But he's a sweetie. He teaches at a school in town, and also teaches self-defense for young women two nights a week, something he decided to do after Rikki." I sat down on my knees and smiled, trying to find something I could do to help. God, her eyes were brilliant: a dazzling blue-within-blue that caught every ray of light at just the perfect angle. "Has anybody ever told you that you have amazingly pretty eyes, Lottie?" "No… no one's ever said that." And no one ever would, would they? I felt sick at the thought, though, and I figured it was best not to reminisce. I looked away from Cohen and down at my lap where my fingers played nervously. I was much more accustomed to biting my thumb when I was anxious, but I was doing my best not to let that habit shine through around Cohen. Still, the way she coddled me like a child was… I wasn't sure, maybe comforting. Or maybe… not. The lines were so blurry nowadays. "Well, they should. You're really pretty." Self esteem had been an issue with Rikki; she felt worthless, ugly, horrible and broken. I decided, thusly, to help preserve Lottie's self esteem now. "So, you know… I got given this gift card for Amazon. It was a Christmas present from one of my clients at work, but I prefer to buy things in person. If you want to have it, you could use it to buy some pretty clothes tomorrow? Shipping takes a few days out here, but it also means you wouldn't need to leave the house." Mine fit her well enough, but she was still a size or two smaller than I was and having her own things would help her self esteem. Plus, it would ensure she stayed for a while. "A few days…?" She wanted me to stay a few days? My expression must've betrayed me, because Cohen smiled up and nodded. She'd clearly been thinking the same way I had. "Uh… yeah. Yeah, okay." I didn't believe her in the slightest - it was well into July already and I couldn't imagine a gift card she'd gotten at Christmas lasting that long. But the gesture was sweet, and it guaranteed me a place to stay. "Great. You must be tired. Want me to take you to your room?" It was stupid; she knew where her room was, but there was that little ticking in my tummy, that instinct to care and nurture that had gotten so much stronger this year. I wanted to take her upstairs and tuck her in and read her a bedtime story and kiss her forehead goodnight. I knew it was only because we'd recently decided to have a baby, but it wasn't so easy to ignore, regardless. "Um… no, that's okay. I can do it…" Cohen was disappointed, though she hid it well. It wasn't fair to her to lead her on. I appreciated her hospitality, but I couldn't let her take care of me the way she probably had for her sister. I felt bad enough about lying, and the reminder certainly wouldn't help. So I gave Cohen another thank you before ascending the stairs and nearly bumping into a man on the landing. "Oh, sorry. Um. I'm Lottie…" Awkward… "It's quite alright." Cohen had mentioned the girl had been young, but I hadn't expected her to be quite this young: she was practically a child! She was wearing Cohen's pajamas and was clearly heading for the guest room, so I stood back and motioned to the left. "After you. I'm Emerson, by the by. Here, I'll come and turn down your bed." She could've done it herself, it was true, but with what Cohen had told me about what had happened - that this girl had been found in circumstances so similarly to her sister - it seemed right to offer. "Yeah, alright… thank you." I wasn't sure how to act around Emerson. The thing about Cohen was she was easy to please. Even after first meeting her, I could tell she was kindhearted, and as long as I was polite, she seemed happy. That was what I'd gathered in the few hours of knowing her, anyway. But Emerson I knew nothing about, and what preconceptions I had - like his kindness to turn down my bed, for instance - was something I could have potentially attributed to making Cohen happy. That's the tricky thing about marriage: you aren't only yourself - you're also the person that makes your partner happy. But he clearly knew who I was; maybe they'd talked when I was in the tub. But what exactly did he know? Would he be as kind as his wife? I led the way into the guest room and pulled down the covers, turning them down along with the top sheet and preparing the bed to be slid into. The chill of winter was long gone, but it was always acceptable weather when it came to comforters. "Here we go, child. Up we go." Perhaps it was that I worked with kids all day, or maybe it was the fact that I'd always played the role of protector in our household, but I wanted our guest to feel safe, and that feeling of safety came from trust. "I thought about asking about your name at the police station today." It was a lie. Cohen had thought about it, but I took credit for the notion. "Just to see if your parents had reported you as missing. Maybe get you in touch with them when you're ready?" "No!" My heart nearly leapt out of my throat and I quickly stood up off the bed. Emerson looked at me harshly and I felt my breathing accelerate. If he told the police where I was… no, that couldn't happen. I couldn't let it. "I… um… no… I don't want anyone knowing where I am." Because that's less suspicious? "I mean… I don't have family… and… and I don't think… I… I don't know… just please… please don't…" Tears found their way down my cheeks before I'd noticed my eyes welling up, and I quickly brushed the water off my face. "Child. Shh. It's okay." I turned to the door and gently clicked it closed before coming back and sitting on the edge of the bed. "We all deal with things in our own way and our own time. If you don't wish to be found, it's okay. I don't pretend to understand it, but I do respect it. You're our guest." Still, tears ran down the girls cheeks faster than she could wipe them away and I found myself wondering exactly what had made her so scared of being found. "Y..yeah..?" Maybe Emerson was as kind as his wife after all. "I just… I don't know. I just want to go away for a while. Don't… want anyone looking. Wanna feel safe, just for a little bit. Please don't tell anyone… please? It's so important…" I couldn't tell him why; I couldn't tell anyone. But this couple seemed like they didn't ask questions, like they understood. It was something entirely new to me. I could never be the kind of person they were. I pulled back the covers again and crisply folded them, motioning for the girl to lay back down after she'd calmed a little. "We live a quiet life out here because we like to have our escape from the world, too. I impart knowledge on children, Cohen saves lives. There's a lot of responsibility in our collective professions. So this, here? This is haven to us. And it's haven to you, too, for as long as you need it." I didn't know as much about dealing with girls in her situation as Cohen did, but I suspected from her behavior just now that she needed somewhere to stay beneath the radar for a while. "Now, is there anything I can get for you? A glass of water, perhaps?" She looked at me with those eyes, those too-deep-blue-eyes, and I smiled warmly. I shook my head and crawled under the covers. I felt so stupid for crying. "Thank you… Emerson…" He pulled the blanket up over me and that was all I remembered. He could've stayed in the room the whole night for all I knew because I never heard the door open, but when I opened my eyes late that afternoon, the sun streaming through the cracks in the blinds, Emerson was gone. And that was fine, but there was something that wasn't. The warm dampness between my legs didn't strike me as odd, and I felt my stomach turn. I quickly climbed out of bed, pulling back the blankets. The bedsheets, as well as Cohen's pajamas, were soaked through. No, no, no, no, no, no… Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted March 13, 2018 Share Posted March 13, 2018 i LOVE THIS, JUST WAITING TO SEE WHAT ELSE COMES UP FOR HER. Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 13, 2018 Author Share Posted March 13, 2018 i LOVE THIS It will come up later, but you should edit that to avoid spoilers for newcomers, if you don't mind. Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted March 13, 2018 Share Posted March 13, 2018 Ok, I love this and have been following both stories with interest. I like Lottie a little more than Velvet Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 13, 2018 Author Share Posted March 13, 2018 Ok, I love this and have been following both stories with interest. I like Lottie a little more than Velvet Thanks for editing! And I'm super surprised everyone is so into Lottie! It's such a casual story, I thought people would get bored with it. But whenever I post a story I think nobody will like, people fall in love with it. I guess I should stop being so critical of myself. Thank you for reading Billy! I hope you like the rest of the story! Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted March 13, 2018 Share Posted March 13, 2018 Thanks for editing! And I'm super surprised everyone is so into Lottie! It's such a casual story, I thought people would get bored with it. But whenever I post a story I think nobody will like, people fall in love with it. I guess I should stop being so critical of myself. Thank you for reading Billy! I hope you like the rest of the story! It is probably because you really have a very creative mind and your stories are very good. One thing I really enjoy is reading a story that has been well written and makes sense to me. Many people on this site try to throw a story together without really going to the trouble to read it and make sure the work flows and makes sense . Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 13, 2018 Author Share Posted March 13, 2018 AHHH you are so sweet!! Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 13, 2018 Author Share Posted March 13, 2018 5. I’m sorry. "Hey gum-drop, you want some breakfast?" It was an odd thing to be offering at three in the afternoon, but it was my breakfast time and the girl seemed to be on my schedule at the moment. I didn't open the door, though, not at first: better to give her some privacy. "Lottie? I heard you moving about. Are you okay in there? I'm about to make pancakes." "Um… yeah… pancakes, sounds good…" I shook my head and slipped my thumb between my teeth, biting anxiously. "Okay, okay… calm down…" I quietly whispered to myself, trying to control my breathing. I was clearly panicking, and this was something I'd learned years ago. Talk yourself through it. "You can take the sheets off, change pajamas. Put the blankets back on. Do laundry tonight or something…" Did they even have a washer here? Oh, did they hang their stuff outside? I didn't know anything about this place. "One thing at a time… clothes…" But there were none in the drawers, none in the closet, none in this whole room. It was the guest room! I felt tears drip down my cheeks, sobbing quietly as I swayed from foot to foot. What was I going to do? "Hey…" The door clicked open and I stepped into the room, my words soft and level as I walked quickly over to the girl and took her hand. She was panicking. Overwhelmed. Nightmares? Just bad thoughts? I didn't know; I wasn't an expert. I didn't even have a bedside manner to rely upon. But I was warm and caring and that was something. She pulled away from me quickly, though, and started breathing heavily. "Gum-drop. Hey. Come on. Lottie. Sweetie. It's me. It's Cohen. Remember me? It's okay. Everything is okay. You're safe." I had been here less than twelve hours and I'd already covered her house in dirt, ate her food, and ruined her clothes and her mattress. She hadn't noticed, it seemed, but she would. It was only a matter of time, and she'd kick me out. And then no new clothes from Amazon, no safe place to stay, no anything. I was twenty - not thirteen. I wasn't her kid. And every thought kept me spiraling down, my chest heaving, my body trembling in Cohen's arms. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop crying… "Hey… hey…" It contrast to last night, she let me hold her this time - a minor victory - though with how desperately and hysterically she was crying, it was hard to see any solace. I held her close and only then did I feel wetness. And then the smell hit me; the heady smell of pee that suddenly made everything clear. I snuck a glance at the bed and everything fell into place. She'd wet the bed. Was that a thing? I couldn't remember Rikki ever doing it, but people dealt with stress in different ways. Well… I didn't knowing if dealing with it was the right term for what had happened, but it happened. "It's okay, gum-drop. Accidents happen, especially when you're under a lot of stress. Don't sweat it. How about I get you something cute to change into and then we can have breakfast?" It stressed me to notice the size of the wet patch on the bed - it was an almost new mattress. But I'd get it out, clean it up. It'd be fine, I hoped. The hysterics took some time to die down, and by the time I'd been dressed in a new pajama set - just a tank top and pajama pants - I felt thoroughly ashamed. And it wasn't just my having wet the bed, but how I'd reacted. That Cohen knew, that Emerson would know when he got home, which would only be in another hour. I felt so sick that I'd declined Cohen's breakfast offer and instead sat silently with her at the table while she ate her pancakes. "If you like, we can keep it our little secret between us girls, okay?" She hadn't said anything about Emerson in particular, but I figured if I could take something off her mind it would be a victory. It wasn't like it was going to happen again, it was just a one off thing. Anxiety, new surroundings, new situations - it happened in dogs all the time. I mean, she wasn't a dog, but I understood the concepts at play. "Sure…" I kept my thumb in my mouth, biting softly. It had been an uphill battle, and with everything that had happened this afternoon, I couldn't fight my habit anymore. So I quietly nibbled at my thumb, doing my best to ignore what had happened. But what good was that? It would happen again. It had happened in the forest and for a long time leading up to this. Not every night, but often. But I couldn't tell her that. What was I supposed to do? The scraping of my fork on the plate finished for the last time and I pushed it aside, reaching across the table with my hand to take Lottie's from her lips. She was anxious; I had every intention of talking to one of my friends from med-school about stress and trauma and ways to help. "It's okay, really. I want to have kids like the most burning desire in the whole world. You think I'm not primed to deal with the occasional wet bedsheet? It's nothing, gum-drop." I know it didn't help. But I was an animal doctor, not a people doctor. Animals don't need therapy. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was making a big deal out of nothing. But I couldn't shake the memory from my head, of the first day at that dining table, of the first accident I'd ever had. It was catching up to me, now. This was something I couldn't run from the way I'd ran from everything else, the same way I couldn't run from my reflection in the mirror. But what could I say to her? I couldn't tell Cohen the truth… I just couldn't. "I'm sorry… I just… don't know what's wrong with me…" "You've been through Hell and back, gum-drop. You think there won't be a few scars? You're brave just to be here, the bravest girl I know, in fact." And that is how you do bedside manner. "I don't know if I'd be able to be as strong as you if I'd been through what you had." This would work, right? Build up her self esteem, remove her doubt, make her happy and confident and she'll be fine again. She'll be able to lead a happy, productive life. I made sure not to cry. I'd become such a crybaby and I hated that about myself. "You're… really great. Like. Taking me in and… I don't know. It's just really kind of you." I smiled at Cohen and squeezed her hand, still in mine. She had done so much for me in the short time I'd known her. I knew I couldn't stay forever. I knew I'd have to move on. But for now, right here was nice. It felt good. "…well, she wet the bed this morning. And she's been sucking her thumb… uh huh…" The afternoon had gone pretty soundly; I'd gotten the mattress cleaned up and tidied things before Emerson got home and he and Lottie were in the living room talking about movies. They got along really well, which made me glad. Meanwhile, I'd taken to the den to speak to Alex Ornette; a friend of mine from med school who'd gone into clinical psychology. And after an hour on the phone with her, I felt a little more reassured as to what we were going to do. Post Traumatic Stress. Regression. It made some level of sense, and it meant that last night's accident probably wouldn't be the last. "I'm going down into town to get a few things. I'll bring back Chinese for dinner, okay?" I smiled at my husband and our guest in the living room before waving and wandering out to the car. A mattress protector would be the first thing I'd have to buy. Link to comment
Baby Billy Posted March 14, 2018 Share Posted March 14, 2018 Very interesting, she thinks Lottie is regressing maybe will have to put her back in diapers. Al thought she wasn't out of them that long ago it might be easy. LOVE THIS Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 14, 2018 Author Share Posted March 14, 2018 6. I like toy trains. "You've got a peculiar taste in films, you know, child? Very unique, not at all what I'd expect of a girl your age." Getting to know Lottie had been an enriching experience; we'd had very little to talk about in the beginning, but after she'd spotted our DVD collection spread across four bookshelves, it had sparked a comment about a particular Kubrick film and we'd been talking ever since. "Yeah, well…" I wasn't sure how much Cohen had told Emerson about me, and I wasn't sure if he still thought of me as a thirteen year old or a twenty year old. But he kept saying 'child' which led me to believe the former. I would've corrected him myself but I thought it would hurt my chances of making him like me. I supposed there was always that little bit of a guy who always wants to take care of a little girl. But taking care of a twenty-year old girl was different, especially when it meant paying her way. I just didn't want to ruin things too quickly. In a few days it wouldn't matter, anyway. I couldn't stay here forever; everyone knew it. "It's always been the fear that when we have a child of our own, she won't take an interest in the things we have to share with her." Children were a sticky issue for us at the moment; despite our best attempts starting on Cohen's 27th birthday, we'd been unsuccessful beyond building an adequately sized baby fund. It wasn't through any shortcoming of mine or of hers, at least to our collective knowledge; it was just something that hadn't happened. "Who is your favorite screenwriter?" I smiled appreciatively at the girl, looking bemused at the concept of even asking her the question. "John Hughes." It wasn't such an obtuse answer, though I didn't have to think twice. I left the bookshelves and sat down across from Emerson. He was so much taller than me. I wished I could've been that height; it would've given me such an advantage growing up. And his short dark hair and very clean jawline would've been attractive in any other girl's eyes. Not mine, though. "I just think it's amazing someone can make so many good movies. Ferris Bueller and Breakfast Club and Home Alone and Sixteen Candles and Vacation. Those are going to be the classics someday, like Casablanca and An Affair to Remember." So I knew a lot about movies. It was a hobby. "Oh, the pursuit of the contemporary classic. It makes you wonder how many people on November 26, 1942 could have told you that the film they were watching would be held in reverence well into the next century." Lottie reminded me in many ways of a precocious youth from my school, uncertain of herself but still filled with the pride of knowing more than her peers about a few narrow fields. "Many of my students are into film appreciation this year, which is very refreshing. And what other interests do you have, Lottie?" I shrugged my shoulders and sipped the hot chocolate Cohen had made for me before leaving. I liked having both of them around: it was almost like having parents. "I don't know. I used to play a lot of video games. And I like toy trains, the ones that you can build the track all around the house." There were very few fond memories of my old home, but my train tracks were certainly one of them. I took another sip of the hot chocolate before biting on my thumb. I shouldn't think of that place anymore, though… The mention of toy trains made my eyes light up and I smiled appreciatively. "You know, we have several large tubs of Brio trains and track in the basement. Cohen and I both had them as children and when we got married, we pooled our respective collections in hope of one day giving them to our children to enjoy the way that we did. But if you'd like, I could fetch them from downstairs; something to keep yourself busy and distracted, perhaps?” We'd had seminars every few months from those in the school distract board, talking about the importance of not disrupting the school schedule of those children from abusive households. To report suspicions discreetly, but to not disrupt the child in school. The structure and the distraction proved invaluable escape avenues that helped to maintain sanity in tragic circumstances. With what Cohen had told me of Lottie, I wondered if the same avenues would be equally beneficial. "Um… alright. That'd be wonderful. Thank you." I hadn't played with Brio trains since I was a kid. Typically my train sets consisted mostly of real train sets. Plastic click-together tracks with metal rails, remote controlled engines or electrical current tracks. I even had a trolly line, once. Still, the Brio trains would be something I could do that didn't involve bothering Cohen or Emerson. They enjoyed my company now, but eventually they'd tire. That was okay, though, right? "Splendid. Splendid." I set my mug down and stood up, making my way to the basement door with the sort of gusto only a man in his late twenties with an excuse to unpack his childhood toys could manage. The heavy door clicked open and I disappeared downstairs, only calling out once I was halfway down for Lottie to follow. Our basement was something to behold: we had shelves and shelves and shelves, all lined with boxes sorted by categories like a warehouse in a department store. Along the back wall of the brightly lit basement was the section marked 'Toys', with sub-markings of age ranges ascending from left to right. In the 1-4 group were a number of boxes labeled Brio and I smiled with a sense of pride. It was something Cohen and I had in common: we held onto the little things throughout our lives. "Wow… you're organized." It was almost creepy; I was just waiting to find the section of the room labelled body parts. But Cohen and Emerson were very normal people; they just liked things the way they liked them. It made me curious if they were really ready for children. Then again, everything has an adjustment period. "These ones? I can help carry some, if you want." There were three boxes, after all. I couldn't imagine how many tracks could fit in there - Brio tracks were not very big. "We are. We have to be. We lead lives that only intersect for a small portion of the day. It's not ideal, understand, and when Cohen and I have children she'll be taking a few years off work. It's been a long time since she's had a day-time schedule though." I hoisted two of the boxes into my hands and motioned to the third. "Will you be okay with that? It's perfectly fine if you're not, I can make two trips." The girl wrapped her arms around the third box and hoisted it off the shelf with surprising strength for her frame and I smiled with a small sense of pride. "Well aren't you a strong one?" I led the way to the stairs, passing boxes marked with 'Lego', 'Dolls', 'Board Games' and various other labels. "Cohen and I joke about it, about the fact that she'll go back to a normal sleeping schedule only to have to switch again when the baby is born. She's enthusiastic, though. I can't say I envy her." He talked like Cohen was already pregnant. "You're both really young, though." It wasn't meant to come across rude, but I noticed the connotations afterward. "I mean, my mom had me when she was thirty six, and I'm the oldest. You have a lot of time to think about stuff like that." I supposed it was something I'd never understand. I never wanted kids, even before all this, and now, I couldn't imagine ever having them. Plus, I'd have to find a spouse first. I chuckled at the girl’s candor as we came up the stairs, and it was only when I set the boxes down in the middle of the living room that I responded. "We want to be the kind of parents who have the energy to spend time with our children. To play with Brio trains, to finger paint or show movies to, to teach to sew or play catch with, or hide and seek in the field. Youth only lasts so long and it would mean so much to us both to be able to share a little of ours with our children." "…yeah, I guess I get that." Maybe it was because I grew up in the city, but I never had moments like that with my mom, not that I remembered, anyway. Though I couldn't see my mom playing with trains with me no matter how young she had me, or finger painting or watching movies or playing hide and seek. Those were just things we'd never done. I set the box down in the living room, following Emerson's lead, and slipped my thumb between my lips again. Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 18, 2018 Author Share Posted March 18, 2018 7. Why nail polish? I ran my thumbnail along the line of tape - a skill picked up from being a teacher - and one by one opened the three boxes, standing back with a little smile. "Feel free to see if there's anything you like. Cohen bought a few of the motorized remote-control sets last year to add to the collection. Its a little non-traditional, but what's tradition when weighed against fun?" It was nice having somebody in the house to share these things with; with the quest for a child not meeting its milestones so far, Lottie was proving to be a satisfying stand-in. I nodded my head and bent down to my knees, rummaging through one of the boxes. There were a lot of tracks. I picked a few pieces out that interested me and started connecting them on instinct, though a second later I stopped and looked up at Emerson. This was, after all, his living room. "You don't mind, do you? Me making a mess? I could play upstairs…" I was so polite now, so considerate of others. Maybe that was a Second thing… "It's perfectly okay." My smile was warm and inviting, and I sat down on the sofa with my hands cupped in one another. "Last year Cohen decided to buy a nice camera for moments like this. We planned to take a single photo a day for every day of his or her life, and put them in albums by year." I wasn't sure why I was discussing this with Lottie, or why I thought she cared to know. Perhaps it was just because this is the sort of moment I'd have though perfect to take a photo of. They really wanted to be parents; I almost felt bad for them. It was clear by the way Cohen acted and by the way Emerson spoke they were on the same page. So why didn't they have a kid? Maybe there was more at play I didn't know about, and that's what made me feel bad. They were such deserving parents, better than a lot of others out there. "You would make a great dad, if you don't mind me saying. Much better than mine." I smiled at Emerson, but when my attention returned to the train set I was putting together, my thumb went into my mouth nervously. I couldn't help but smile at the compliment, a little sense of pride welling up inside of me. "Well thank you, Lottie. That's a very sweet thing to say. I hope to be a good father." And then, almost as an aside: "We recommend a clear nail polish to parents whose children bite their nails." The thumb-biting had been something I'd noticed from the off-set and I'd figured it a nervous reaction. Most children Lottie's age were self conscious about such habits, finally starting to understand that people saw them differently to the way they saw themselves. "Cohen has a bottle; if you'd like I could put some on your thumb nail to help." Nothing about what I said was judgmental or mean - it was just the concerned voice of an adult talking to a child. I didn't understand at first, and it took a second after the explanation to realize Emerson was talking about me. I quickly pulled my thumb from my mouth and looked back to the train set, feeling embarrassed. I shouldn't still be doing that… "Um… I… don't really understand… why nail polish?" I took a look down at my left hand. The thumb nail was mildly chipped. It could use a nice coat of polish, I supposed, but I'd just bite that off too. Was nail polish toxic? "It's got a very bitter taste to it that discourages biting. It's not dangerous at all, it's just designed to make you associate an unpleasantness to the action and eventually you stop doing it." Ethically, I wasn't the biggest fan of conditioning children out of habits that through the normal course of development would be dropped in time regardless, but in the case of Lottie it might instigate a self-esteem issue. And someone in such a formative time of their lives could do with having a few obstacles removed. "Oh. Um. That makes sense." I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about associating biting my thumb to 'unpleasantness', as it was put, but I'd give anything at this point to keep me from putting my thumb in my mouth. It was a habit I really needed to break. "Sure, okay." So Emerson got up off the chair and left the room, leaving me to my Brio trains. Or his. Or Cohen's. Whatever. When he finally came back, a little bottle in his hand, I stopped playing and looked down at my hands. "I've never had my nails painted…" I never thought I would, either. "Well, that's just not right, now is it?" I set the bottle of clear polish down on the table and then disappeared out of the living room. It might have seemed unusual for a man of my age to be very adept at painting nails, but it was something that Cohen had taught me and something she found very cathartic. I slipped into our bedroom and collected a few pots of polish, as well as a pair of clippers, before wandering back downstairs with an almost whimsical spring in my step. "Sit at the edge of the coffee table with your feet underneath, right there." I knelt down on the opposite side of the coffee table and motioned in front of me. "Place your hand here, child." I did as instructed, putting my feet under the table and putting my hand where Emerson had told me to. It was strange. Even with Emerson kneeling across the table from me, I felt so small. He started cutting and tidying up all the nails on my left hand - not just my thumb - and I tried not to pay attention. Girls get their nails painted. It's a normal thing. But it was still so strange to me. Whatever; it would keep me from biting my nails, and that was worth it. "I'll do all your nails in color, and put the special coating on your thumbs to discourage biting." To be honest, even though I did this for Cohen on a regular basis, I probably wouldn't have made it known to anybody else. Lottie was just a child though, no different to those I taught at school. She didn't have a forced perception of gender norms; the notion of boys and girls being different at all was probably still new to her. I talked while I painted, though she kept glancing nervously at her hands. "I know with what you've been through, you probably don't feel very worthwhile anymore. But you'll see in time that you're special because you're you, and that's something nobody can take away. You're a polite, courteous and charming young lady. And a pretty one, at that." Most men couldn't have gotten away with saying something like that without being creepy, but I spoke in the sort of tone that only teachers, doctors and father's could make work, and it came across wholesome and assuring. "Thanks…" Emerson applied the color to my nails - a faded blue that made me miss my lavender more than my family - and I did my best not to think too much. It had become a bit of an issue since this morning, since the wet bed and the awkward lies I had to keep up. And with how wonderful these people were, I kept feeling sick when I thought too much about it. I just needed to keep a level head. In a few days none of it would matter, anyway… 1 Link to comment
ELLIE52 Posted March 18, 2018 Share Posted March 18, 2018 Interesting so far. Since I've been reading some of the other 2 in the trilogy ..... well, I won't say, but I do wonder when the past will catch up to the present. Additionally, I wonder what is in Lottie's past .... that positioned her in a place she ran away from. I hope that *Lottie* was in no way connected to what happened to Rikki. Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 18, 2018 Author Share Posted March 18, 2018 Interesting so far. Since I've been reading some of the other 2 in the trilogy ..... well, I won't say, but I do wonder when the past will catch up to the present. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! And you're taking an interest in the other two as well. Her past will catch up soon enough. I might post another chapter today. I'm editing a lot. *nods* Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 18, 2018 Author Share Posted March 18, 2018 8. It’s how I was raised. "If you don't like the color, we can pick out something else." I smiled, watching the pensive looks the girl continued to give her nail as I brushed the blue onto her nail. She was anxious, nervous and unsteady; but her ability to trust male figures in her life was likely very diluted right now so it was hard to tell the source of her discomfort. "Cohen has dozens of colors in her en-suite, I'm sure she won't mind if you want to take a look." With the trip into town taking as long as it did, Cohen likely wouldn't be back for a while anyway. "Um… no… you won't have the color I want." No one would, would they? It was a very particular color, and I wasn't even sure what the exact shade was. I felt dizzy at the thought, though; I couldn't start missing that place, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. I climbed up off the floor without warning, swaying awkwardly from foot to foot. "Just gonna… use the bathroom…" My nails were still wet, so I was careful not to touch anything as I left the living room. "Very well." I smiled and slipped back down the basement to tend to the laundry that I'd slipped into the dryer shortly before Cohen had left. Along with our usual affair, it contained the night gown the girl had been wearing when Cohen had found her. I held it up before me and assessed the garment; it was certainly juvenile. Part of me was inclined the throw it into the trash, perhaps out of concern that it would trigger unpleasant associated memories. But it was the only thing Lottie owned, so I gently folded it and made my way upstairs to return it to the girl. "I kind of… messed up this one." I was playing with the paint on my right hand's ring finger as I walked into the living room. I had forgotten when leaving the bathroom that the nails were freshly painted. "You think you could fix it?" Emerson sat on the couch across the coffee table folding piles of laundry. Amongst them were my bedsheets from this morning and I quickly turned red. He wouldn't make the connection, right…? "Um… so… the…" There was an understanding smile on my face as I started to touch up the nail in question, though Lottie kept looking anxiously at the laundry. "What is it, child? Your nightgown is among the laundry. I was wondering if you might even want it back, after what happened." My tones were always sympathetic when referencing the circumstances of how she'd been found. I hadn't been there at first; Cohen had picked her up and gotten her cleaned and dressed, which meant, in so many ways, that my bond with the child would likely not be as strong. But I was determined to try. "My… nightgown?" I looked again at the pile of clothes on the sofa next to Emerson, a small glimpse of the familiar purple peeking through. I quickly climbed back to my feet - much to the surprise of Emerson who was still painting my nails - and took hold of my nightgown. I knew it was childish: that was the point. The puffy white sleeves and the ruffles along the bottom were a testament to that. But it was soft, and it was mine. Absolutely and completely mine. I held it up with a small smile on my lips and very abruptly noticed just how attached I was to this one stupid piece of clothing, clothing from a time I wanted to forget, not cherish. But it was the only thing left in the world that I had. Watching the girl running her fingertips over the purple garment, the way her eyes lit up, the way she cradled it… it was as though it was a treasured childhood teddy bear, or a security blanket. I didn't get it. I didn't understand it. Maybe it was that it provided her a modicum of decency during what had happened, or maybe it was the only real possession she owned. But it meant something, and it meant something very real to her. So I reached into the bottom of the laundry basked and retrieved a hanger, smiling down at the girl. "Here we go, let's put it on a hanger and you can put it in your closet. That way it's safe for when you need it." "Yeah…" I smiled shyly at Emerson as he hung my nightgown on one of the plastic hangers. Then he went back to folding the other laundry, though I still couldn't take my eyes off the purple nightgown. Maybe I could figure out exactly what shade it was. Maybe I could get more clothes like it. But why did I want that? I didn't want to hold onto what happened, I wanted to move forward. I sighed and sat down next to Emerson, picking up one of the shirts and folding it as properly as I could, doing my best not to let my nails touch anything. The way that Lottie sat down next to me and helped out brought a smile to my lips; she was being so polite and well behaved and I actually felt a sense of pride despite having not had anything to do with her upbringing. I could praise her though, and I did. "You're a very polite young lady, Lottie. If our little girl is as wonderfully brought up as you are, I think we'd be very proud parents." I motioned to the appropriate pile. "Just right there for that one, child." I placed the shirt down in one of the piles and picked out my pajama top from the night before. My motives weren't ulterior until I'd noticed the top, but this would give me a chance to take some of Emerson's attention away from the incident last night. Cohen had said she wouldn't tell, and I trusted her. Maybe that was naive, though. "Thank you. It's how I was raised." Technically true. "I never got very far without manners." "It's a very good way to be raised. Your parents must be very, very proud of you, Lottie." She seemed to wince a little at the mention of her parents, however, so I decided it best to skirt that topic for now. Were they related in what had happened? Is that why she didn't want to go back to them? It made me very curious. "I think Cohen means for you to keep those pajamas as a welcoming gift to your new home. Though I expect she has something figured out to get you some clothes in your own size." Cohen and Lottie weren't too dissimilar in size, and though I didn't know very much about ladies clothes, I knew that it was still enough to make a difference. "Things like your own undergarments are probably first priority, I'd think." "Yeah, maybe…" My head whirled with questions. Cohen had mentioned getting me clothes the day before, but this was different. The way Emerson said it, it seemed more like… an 'over time' kind of thing, like I'd build my own collection, my own wardrobe. But I didn't expect that of them, and for the first time I noticed I had no idea what they expected of me. "Um… Emerson…" He looked up from the pants he was folding. "How long… uh… are you planning on me staying here?" "Just exactly as long as you want to stay here. When you feel like you're ready to leave, you'll leave. Until then, you can think of this as home. Depending on how long that may be, I may prepare you some curriculum to make sure you don't get too far behind on things. But there's no time limit, Lottie." I didn't know how long exactly it would take for Lottie to be ready to face the world again, and though she'd said she had nobody waiting for her, nobody missing her, I made note to stay up to date on the news for all the surrounding counties and towns, just to be sure. I shook my head and looked down at the mostly folded laundry. I couldn't stay here. Maybe Emerson didn't know that, and maybe Cohen didn't either, but I sure did. They were very nice people, but I couldn't keep my secrets forever. And lying to them made me hate myself. I slipped my thumb in my mouth only to pull it out a second later and stick out my tongue. "Ew…" I finally understood why Emerson used the term unpleasantness. "It's pretty effective, though it takes most girls a while to fully associate the unpleasantness. Thumb-sucking and nail-biting are much more common now than they were twenty years ago ~ I read a paper once that indicated it could be a symptom of anxiety and future-stress in children. People don't realize how much those words that bombard from the media impact our children." I smiled - the sort of reassuring, trusting smile that you only see in a school teacher - and motioned to the laundry. "Would you like to take your pajamas and nightgown upstairs to put in your closet, Lottie?" My pajamas. My closet. I felt that same sickness turn over in my stomach. They were so nice to me… "Yeah… okay…" I took the folded clothes - my nightgown still on the hanger - and slowly made my way up the stairs. Fuck. What was wrong with me?! These two people were kind enough to let me into their house, and all I do is lie. When did I get such a strong conscience? This wasn't a thing before. I could fuck people over and not give a damn. And now this: crying just because I told a lie. I hung up the nightgown in the guest closet and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I hated this… hated not being me… "She's doing okay. She took an interest in our Brio trains and we talked quite a bit about movies." I wandered over to the bay window in the lounge room, speaking on my cell phone to Cohen. "She's wonderfully charming though, polite and well-mannered. I have to expect she came from a more affluent area. She's reluctant to discuss it, especially the topic of her parents. And she seems to have a security-blanket relationship with her nightgown. Yes. The one she was wearing." I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the laundry and then at the stairs as Cohen spoke, and then answered her query. "I think that's best. I'll talk to you when you get home." I hated looking at myself in the mirror, and that meant walking across the hall and into the bathroom was a big mistake. But I needed to stop crying and make sure my eyes weren't red when I went back downstairs. Everyone here was so nice to me - I didn't want them to think I was upset. I didn't want them to know how easily I fell apart, or maybe I was too proud. I sat and stared at myself in the mirror, at the blue eyes looking back at me. Someone else's eyes. I shook my head and sighed. "No more tears, Lottie. Three days. Then you go. Not a word." 1 Link to comment
ELLIE52 Posted March 19, 2018 Share Posted March 19, 2018 Still intrigued. I did go back and reread the preface, so I have a better understanding now. Link to comment
Sophie ♥ Posted March 19, 2018 Author Share Posted March 19, 2018 9. I’m not exactly little. "Is everything okay, Lottie?" My voice carried down the hall as I headed down to our bedroom to put the remainder of the clothes away. Having someone else here was certainly a change, but it was also something I found quite pleasant. The split lifestyle that Cohen and I led was a little lacking in companionship: a glaring issue that we lived with. It was as though Lottie filled the gap perfectly. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm good." I wiped my eyes again and took a deep breath. Alright. I stepped out a of the bathroom, a fake smile on my lips, and a fashioned spring in my step. I met Emerson at his bedroom door and looked into his and Cohen's room for the first time. It was immaculately decorated, much more so than the guest room. And they had a very large canopy bed along the back wall, though the drapes looked like they'd never been pulled forward. I guess that made sense; they had no one to hide from. "Would you like to come in?" I took a step back from the dresser as if to welcome the girl into our bedroom. It was our space, a point of pride within our already very well-appointed house. One of the walls was lined halfway along with a sliding floor to ceiling mirror door that sat half-open. On the opposite wall was another, though this one was closed. "We each have a walk-in-closet, and there's a bathroom off Cohen's. You're welcome to have a look around if you like." Unlike the guest room, there was no television in here. And it also seemed as though the room was roughly split with one half for me and one for Cohen; when we kept differing sleeping schedules it was important to group the important things together so as not to wake the other. I stepped slowly into the room, careful not to look at Emerson in case he could tell I'd been crying. I didn't venture too far - just enough to see all the walls of the room and the large bed in the middle. It looked very divided. They could've probably put a partisan in and made two different bedrooms. I thought that was strange - they seemed so happy together. But it wasn't my place to question their stylings. "It's pretty… really pretty…" "That's mostly Cohen's work, I confess. I don't have the flair for interior design that she does. I do much of the landscaping out front of the house, though." Which was likely something that Lottie had missed, given the hour of day she arrived. But the flowerbeds, the creeping vines and flowers, and the cobblestone walkway to the drive were very proud projects of mine. "We've been on different schedules since we bought this place, sadly. What was intended to be six months of disconnection until she fell pregnant has become a little over two years and counting. We always planned for her to step down from her role at the veterinarians once we had a child on the way and spend much more time together. But alas, the best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry." "Uh huh." I didn't want to pry too much, and I still felt very awkward in their bedroom, but I was a little curious. So I gently stepped toward the door, leaning up against the frame with mild nervousness. "So… why aren't you having a baby? Is it like… um…" I didn't want to throw ideas out. Infertility where I came from was a bit shameful, especially in men - it probably wasn't too different here - so I let my sentence go unfinished, though Emerson didn't look at all put off by the question. "We're not quite sure, to be honest. We've visited some doctors and there doesn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary." It was the way I'd explain the topic to a child in my class: broad strokes and simple concepts. "It just seems as though things aren't working out in our favor. We remain optimistic, but Cohen has her moments of weakness and doubt and they can get her into quite a state. She's dreamed of raising a child since she was your age. As have I, for that matter. Our work, this house, everything we've planned our life around to date has been at the behest of having a child of our own." That was a little less broad, and a little more emotional; though my voice barely showed it. I was very good at explaining difficult concepts in a matter-of-fact manner. "Oh…" I looked down at my feet, trying to let the awkwardness melt away. I had no idea how to reply to that - growing up, my mom never showed emotion, sometimes to a fault, and I'd never been in the presence of another adult showing weakness the way Emerson was. Maybe it was because I was different now, though, or maybe because my sample size was small to begin with. I bit my thumb and immediately withdrew it, sticking my tongue out in disgust. Ugh, why did I put this stuff on? "I apologize. It's unprofessional of me to burden you with such details." I smiled and motioned to the door. "Cohen will be home soon, and she's bringing dinner. Would you like to help me set the table?" Setting the table was something of a tradition for the one meal a day we shared together and we'd decided two years ago to make it a proper sit down meal regardless of what we actually ate: something we could continue with our family once it started. Unprofessional? He really was a teacher, huh? I followed Emerson down the stairs and into the kitchen, fond memories of yesterday's dinner flashing before me. I'd skipped breakfast that afternoon and it was really starting to catch up with me. I was /really/ hungry. It made me wonder what Cohen was bringing home for dinner. Emerson handed me a group of plates and I started to set the six-person table. I couldn't help imagine the two adults as sitting across from each other at the ends of the table. Maybe that's when I noticed how lonely the two really were, without even each other as company. Maybe they liked me here more than I thought. "There's a funny story behind this table." It wasn't funny, though, just one of those quirky-tale stories that didn't really have any haha-humor, but which were still fun to tell. "We weren't even looking for a table, but we saw this one in the store and a family about our age - at the time - were seated at it. Two parents and one charming girl, about ten. And we wanted that right there, that picture perfect scene. So we bought it. Of course back then we lived in an apartment in Chicago, so we couldn't fit it at all. When we found this place, the dining table was the first thing to come off the truck." "Chicago…?" And that's when I first realized I had no idea where I was. Or what day it was. Or anything, really. I'd told Cohen I was twenty years old, but that was an estimation. "So where are we now?" It wasn't that odd a question. With what they thought happened to me, it wouldn't be at all surprising if I didn't know where I was. I could've been taken anywhere in the country, really. The question struck me as odd, that the girl had been wandering in the woodlands here and didn't know where she was. If she'd been kidnapped, however, it made some measure of sense. "We're in South Dakota. Is that not where you expected to be, Lottie?" It wasn't an accusatory statement, just a general point of curiosity. It was certainly a different place to Chicago where we'd grown up, but it was home now. Home for us, home for our family. "Yeah, kind of." South Dakota… that was so far from the east coast. And if it was that far north and it was still this warm out, it must've been pretty late into the summer, maybe July or August. "I'm from Virginia." I wasn't sure if there was any use in telling Emerson where I'd grown up, but I didn't want to be secretive. I had to keep certain things private, but my home state wasn't one of them. Even if he cared to trace me back to Virginia, he wouldn't find anything. "You're a long way from home, child." It caught me off guard; I suspect she might have been from Minnesota or Iowa perhaps; though her voice had the distinct quality of lacking any sort of distinguishing accent. "And you're sure there's nobody who'd be missing their little girl? Someone back home in Virginia?" I didn't want to pry or dig or poke around too much, especially given how she'd reacted to the notion of me trying to get in contact with her parents through the police. "No. I'm sure." It was an absolute guarantee. No one, in Virginia or otherwise, was missing me. And if anyone was really upset at my not being there, it wasn't somewhere I wanted to be anyway. "And… um… I'm not exactly little." I'd already told Cohen, and keeping this secret from Emerson would only make things worse in the long run. It was best heard coming from me - not his wife. "I'm twenty, actually…" "Twenty?" It was difficult to believe that this little cherub of a girl was even a day over twelve. Almost to the point where I was skeptical of the accuracy of her statement. But I didn't show the surprise, I didn't make it obvious the extent of my disbelief. I smiled at the girl though, and decided that at the moment the best avenue was to continue the way things were. "If you find me to be too condescending or coddling, please let me know. I'm accustomed to dealing with children so I tend to have a habit of speaking in a particular manner." Emerson's shock was evident, even without me looking up from the napkins I was accenting the plates with. I knew I looked young. Every day for the past six months I'd noticed the gradual decrease in age, though I knew, realistically, I couldn't have aged backwards. It was just appearance; accenting certain parts of my body that a girl would lose around fourteen or fifteen. And my small chest certainly didn't help. "No, it's fine. It's nice. I mean… I don't know. No complaints." "Splendid." I stepped into the kitchen and began to prepare a pitcher of ice water to go in the center of the table as I spoke. "You're still welcome to any of the toys - the trains, or anything in the basement. Sometimes people in crises situations deal with the stress better by regressing in age a little." And I suspected that was the case here, because the polite, well-mannered girl who followed me around and anxiously tugged at her hemlines acted nothing of the twenty-years-of-age that she identified as. She was in every way a peer to those in my classes. "I guess." I didn't understand kids very well and I really didn't get the psychology of it all. My 'crisis situation' was over, though, as far as I could tell. This wasn't a regression, this was a result. I hated it, though, and I was determined to leave it behind. But those were long term goals. Right now I had other things to focus on, like eating dinner and figuring out where to go after this place. I couldn't take a train or a bus, could I? You'd need ID for something like that… 1 Link to comment
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