Lucy stormed out of her fathers room and refused to answer when he called out to her. She had immediately not wanted to hear the full story, having already mentally pieced the puzzle together.
So Becky and her father had asked a twenty-one year old man to join a support group for...Lucy. She didn't understand how any of it made sense...perhaps father wanted her to fall in love? But honestly, for what rational reason?
Lucy ran to her room and banged the door shut. She wasn't going to cry, or sob, or do any of the cliché things girls tend to do when they are angry. She would take a shower, sleep on it, and then wait for the next meeting, in which she would confront Becky..
Stepping out of her shoes, and jeans and ripping off her shirt, she remembered the number on her arm. She curiously looked at it, silently vowing never to call the number anyway. She screwed up her eyes in confusion, and then in utter disbelief. It was then she realised she would never call the number at all, even if she ever wanted to...simply because, it was her own.
And scribbled discreetly by her elbow were two, simple words:
Little Birdy
