Vulnerable [Frollie]

Chapter 9

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” moaned Mollie to her dark haired friend. “I mean, she was fine when we came back. She was happy!” We were fine! But then…” Mollie dropped her head in her hands.

It had only taken Frankie three days to leave her. It took her no time at all to retreat back into the long ago abandoned shell of herself. It had been three and a half weeks since they’d come back from the prison.

They haven’t had a proper conversation in 21 days.

They haven’t laughed together in 21 days.

They haven’t gone out with friends in 21 days.

They haven’t had sex in 21 days.

Mollie was so, so worried.

"She hasn’t let me touch her in three weeks, Rochelle," Mollie said, her voice dropping to a pained whisper.

"Like…at all?" Rochelle asked, raising her eyebrows.

"We’ve barely kissed or cuddled at all…" She trailed off, tugging in her hair.

"Seriously?" The dark haired girl said, leaning back onto her hands. "Have you talked to Dr. White?" She questioned, referring to Frankie’s psychiatrist.

"Yup," Mollie said, lifting her head. "She said to just give her time. She wouldn’t tell me what they talked about last week. And Frankie wouldn’t let me come," Mollie’s voice broke on the last line.

"Like, wouldn’t let you come in the room, or…?" Rochelle asked, perplexed.

"It’s worse than that; she wouldn’t even let me drive her. She just got up in the morning last Thursday, made some tea, barely kissed me goodbye and just left. It was so weird. And I asked her how her appointment went when she got home and all she said was "fine" and went upstairs to work on a paper. I don’t know what to do," she finished, throwing herself back onto the grass.

Frankie and Una were in a lecture, so Mollie was taking the opportunity to speak to the one person she knew would be able to help her with Frankie’s sudden retreat.

"I just don’t know what to do," she broke, covering her face with her shaking hands. She was aware of the way her voice shattered on the last word, of the wetness pressing against the back of her eyes. She was too plagued with worry about her girlfriend to care about her public appearance.

“Have you talked to your mum?” suggested Rochelle, worry creasing her features.

Mollie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No…” she said slowly, “I’m not really sure how to. Like, what do I say to her?”

“What you’re saying to me, maybe?” Rochelle questioned, rolling her eyes.

“Alright, fine,’” Mollie said, glancing at the time on her phone. “I’ve got to go and meet Franks now, she’ll just be getting out,” she said.