Just Two More Broken Souls

Chapter One

Lorna Morello grabbed onto her young daughter, holding her tight against her chest. She smothered the top of her head in loving kisses as tears soaked her pale cheeks. "My precious Antonia," she murmured quietly, so that only her child could hear. A hand ruffled through the long curls that sat upon her head. "I need ya to not come back here after school. Go, go get help. Find someone—anyone who will listen. Ya hear me, baby?"

The curly-haired seven-year-old shook her head violently. Her tiny arms tightened around her mother's neck. Tears poured from her dark brown eyes. "No, mommy. I-I can't leave you," her small voice cried out, almost the same as Lorna's. She nestled closer to her mother's body, fear building heavily in her.

"Ya have to do this. I need ya to, sweetie. I don't want you to get hurt. The mean, scary, man who brought us here—he's gonna try to kill us," Lorna whispered, trying to keep her composure. She hated that her daughter was put into this outrageously terrifying situation. Loathed that either one of them were put into this. But she'd be damned if she ever let anything happen to her little girl.

Sucking in a shaky breath, Lorna pulled the small child closer and embraced her protectively. Trying to soothe away the terror that so clearly shined through her actions. "You needa get outta here, my love. Do it for mommy, okay? I need you to be safe. You're my baby, Antonia, I love ya more than anything in this world...I can't let you get hurt. Please do what I ask; please, baby."

"B-but, but what-what if I never see ya again, mommy?" The little girl wept, eyes peering widely up at her mother.

It broke her heart to see her daughter cry, to hear the pain and fear in her small voice. She took Antonia's face in her hands and gave a loving kiss to each of her rosy cheeks. "Don't ya worry about that, sweetie. I promise that's not gonna happen. But ya have to get outta here and find help. Get as far away from this place as you can, my angel," she pleaded, rubbing her thumb comfortingly around the little girl's forehead.

"I love you so much, my Antonia. I promise everything's gonna be okay," Lorna whispered, embracing her child snugly against her. She shut her eyes, praying and hoping that her words were true. That her daughter will get to see her again after leaving the house. She couldn't imagine her daughter's suffering through the loss of her. She didn't want her to have to deal with something like that...but that was better than their both losing their lives. At least that was what she told herself to make this easier.

It was mid-afternoon and Nicky Nichols planned to spend it outside smoking her first pack of cigarettes in almost a week. She craved its gritty texture, its smoky scent. With the cold air breezing through, she found it the perfect combination. She stood outside of the gas station she purchased the pack from, pulled one out, and lighted it with her lighter. The moment she took that first drag, her eyes shut in content. It made her remember exactly why she needed those things. Smoking comforted her—took away any and all of her stresses.

She exhaled a deep, smoky, breath of air and smiled. Seven days without her desirable cigs were torture for her. She didn't know how she made it through. But that hadn't matter now—she had them back in her possession and life could go on as normal. Or that was what she thought until a small figure caught her sight. Seeming to be gradually getting closer.

As the figure grew closer, Nicky quickly found it to be a small child. Rather, a little girl. Her eyebrows arched inquiringly over her big brown eyes. What on earth was a little girl doing running around the middle of nowhere on a Monday afternoon? She thought to herself. Taking one more big drag of the cigarette, she put it out and placed it in the pocket of her jacket before cautiously approaching the child.

She looked her over, immediately noticing how filthy and scratched up she appeared to be.

"What're ya doin' running around all by yourself?" Nicky tried to soften her voice but knew she wasn't the best when communicating with children. Children certainly weren't her cup of tea. But staring this tiny, curly-haired, girl over—there was something different. Something that made her feel...protective? She couldn't quite put a proper explanation to the sensation.