Mending Broken Wings - Part 3
Title: Mending Broken Wings - Part 3
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 919 words
Summary: The rehab days
Rating: R for some swearing, suggestive language.
Disclaimer: This is not real. But I warn you, it may make you want to hug Lindsay.
Samantha tries to take back her hand but the girl's grip is too strong. She may have lost many things because of her addiction but determination is not one of them. "This doesn't feel right at all. I just..." Samantha has to look down; she can't spend another second staring into those empty eyes.
With her free hand, Lindsay lifts Samantha's chin, the woman's lips to her own. She kisses her softly, slowly. It's like that first kiss all over again; fireworks, chills down your spine. Her hand is shaky, Samantha notices. She's just as terrified. "Please..." Lindsay's chin quivers as she speaks. Her frantic eyes speak for themselves; she needs this.
And so Samantha gives in. She carefully moves aside the girl's panties and slides her fingers inside. It takes all she has to keep going, to not break down and cry. Guilt rises in her, like the bile in her throat. She wants to scream, let it all out. She wants to apologize but knows she doesn't have to.
Lindsay does most of the work herself. She makes barely any noise which is very unlike her. When it's all over, she rests her forehead against Samantha and sobs quietly. Samantha reaches a hand up to the girl's cheek, catching a fallen tear on her thumb. She knows the tears are not her fault, but she can't help but feel responsible.
"We should get you back," she says, noticing the dark sky outside of the car. It's got to be well past the girl's curfew; someone must be looking for her by now. But Lindsay doesn't budge, so she wraps her arms tight around the girl and rocks her back and forth soothingly.
Finally Lindsay stops crying. She sniffles and wipes the moisture from her cheeks, unable to look Samantha directly in the eye. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." She lifts the girl's chin, leveling their faces.
Lindsay looks at her indirectly, visibly embarrassed. "Don't be sorry, please. I trust you. I don't trust anybody, but I trust you."
She climbs from her spot on Samantha's lap and timidly back into her own seat. Samantha reaches across and buckles her seatbelt for her. She kisses the girl sweetly on the cheek but Lindsay continues to refuse eye contact.
They drive back to the centre, Samantha glancing sideways to look at the girl occasionally. She watches as Lindsay's head nods sleepily and eventually she gives in, resting her cheek against the plastic door panel.
"We're here..." Samantha whispers, reaching over to nudge Lindsay's hand. The girl startles awake, clutching the woman's hand in her own. Once she realizes where they are, she sighs and rests her head back against the seat.
Lindsay unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at Samantha. "Can we do this again next week?"
Samantha nods uneasily. She wants to see the girl again - of course she does - but she hopes the next night will end on a more pleasant note. "Should I come back tomorrow?"
Lindsay shrugs and then shakes her head.
"When should I come back?"
Lindsay fidgets with her hands in her lap. "I'll call you, okay?"
Samantha nods. She hates the waiting game. She wants to see the girl again, to know that she's okay. But she trusts her, and trusts that she needn't explain why she needs a few days to herself. "Sure."
Lindsay leans across her seat and kisses Samantha bashfully on the mouth. She turns around as she leaves the car and smiles quickly, so much so that an eye not watching for a glimmer of happiness would have missed it. But Samantha catches it and smiles back. She waits until the girl is safely inside before driving away.
She sighs, rubbing her tired eyes. It won't always be like this, she knows, but until Lindsay has learned to trust herself again, each of their encounters will be a struggle. Samantha isn't sure she can handle the hit-and-miss, the days when Lindsay hates her for no good reason and the days where nothing could be more perfect.
Her thoughts start to get the best of her when she feels an uncomfortable lump forming in her throat. She turns the volume on her stereo way up, trying to drown out the negativity.
A pause between songs leaves silence to hear her phone ringing from inside of her pocket. She fishes it out quickly and fumbles to answer the call. "Hello?"
Silence at first. A few sad gasps and a tearful hiccup. "Samantha?"
"Oh, babe..." the woman says, barely recognizing Lindsay's voice beneath sobs and squeals as she tries to catch her breath.
"I'd like to see you again tomorrow."
Samantha sighs. She pulls her car over on the side of the road and talks the girl down from her crying fit and assures her she'll be there as soon as visiting hours begin.
After she hangs up, Samantha squeals her tires and U-turns illegally to go back in the opposite direction. She parks down a side street near the rehab centre and reclines her seat, settling in for sleep. It's irrational, the lengths she'll go to be there for the girl, but she can't help but feel it's her duty. If not her, who will watch out for Lindsay, be there to support and encourage her?
She rests her feet on the car's dash and listens to traffic as it passes on a nearby freeway. I’m crazy, she thinks to herself, crazy for her.
Author: xjekkix
Word Count: 919 words
Summary: The rehab days
Rating: R for some swearing, suggestive language.
Disclaimer: This is not real. But I warn you, it may make you want to hug Lindsay.
Samantha tries to take back her hand but the girl's grip is too strong. She may have lost many things because of her addiction but determination is not one of them. "This doesn't feel right at all. I just..." Samantha has to look down; she can't spend another second staring into those empty eyes.
With her free hand, Lindsay lifts Samantha's chin, the woman's lips to her own. She kisses her softly, slowly. It's like that first kiss all over again; fireworks, chills down your spine. Her hand is shaky, Samantha notices. She's just as terrified. "Please..." Lindsay's chin quivers as she speaks. Her frantic eyes speak for themselves; she needs this.
And so Samantha gives in. She carefully moves aside the girl's panties and slides her fingers inside. It takes all she has to keep going, to not break down and cry. Guilt rises in her, like the bile in her throat. She wants to scream, let it all out. She wants to apologize but knows she doesn't have to.
Lindsay does most of the work herself. She makes barely any noise which is very unlike her. When it's all over, she rests her forehead against Samantha and sobs quietly. Samantha reaches a hand up to the girl's cheek, catching a fallen tear on her thumb. She knows the tears are not her fault, but she can't help but feel responsible.
"We should get you back," she says, noticing the dark sky outside of the car. It's got to be well past the girl's curfew; someone must be looking for her by now. But Lindsay doesn't budge, so she wraps her arms tight around the girl and rocks her back and forth soothingly.
Finally Lindsay stops crying. She sniffles and wipes the moisture from her cheeks, unable to look Samantha directly in the eye. "Hey, it's okay. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..." She lifts the girl's chin, leveling their faces.
Lindsay looks at her indirectly, visibly embarrassed. "Don't be sorry, please. I trust you. I don't trust anybody, but I trust you."
She climbs from her spot on Samantha's lap and timidly back into her own seat. Samantha reaches across and buckles her seatbelt for her. She kisses the girl sweetly on the cheek but Lindsay continues to refuse eye contact.
They drive back to the centre, Samantha glancing sideways to look at the girl occasionally. She watches as Lindsay's head nods sleepily and eventually she gives in, resting her cheek against the plastic door panel.
"We're here..." Samantha whispers, reaching over to nudge Lindsay's hand. The girl startles awake, clutching the woman's hand in her own. Once she realizes where they are, she sighs and rests her head back against the seat.
Lindsay unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at Samantha. "Can we do this again next week?"
Samantha nods uneasily. She wants to see the girl again - of course she does - but she hopes the next night will end on a more pleasant note. "Should I come back tomorrow?"
Lindsay shrugs and then shakes her head.
"When should I come back?"
Lindsay fidgets with her hands in her lap. "I'll call you, okay?"
Samantha nods. She hates the waiting game. She wants to see the girl again, to know that she's okay. But she trusts her, and trusts that she needn't explain why she needs a few days to herself. "Sure."
Lindsay leans across her seat and kisses Samantha bashfully on the mouth. She turns around as she leaves the car and smiles quickly, so much so that an eye not watching for a glimmer of happiness would have missed it. But Samantha catches it and smiles back. She waits until the girl is safely inside before driving away.
She sighs, rubbing her tired eyes. It won't always be like this, she knows, but until Lindsay has learned to trust herself again, each of their encounters will be a struggle. Samantha isn't sure she can handle the hit-and-miss, the days when Lindsay hates her for no good reason and the days where nothing could be more perfect.
Her thoughts start to get the best of her when she feels an uncomfortable lump forming in her throat. She turns the volume on her stereo way up, trying to drown out the negativity.
A pause between songs leaves silence to hear her phone ringing from inside of her pocket. She fishes it out quickly and fumbles to answer the call. "Hello?"
Silence at first. A few sad gasps and a tearful hiccup. "Samantha?"
"Oh, babe..." the woman says, barely recognizing Lindsay's voice beneath sobs and squeals as she tries to catch her breath.
"I'd like to see you again tomorrow."
Samantha sighs. She pulls her car over on the side of the road and talks the girl down from her crying fit and assures her she'll be there as soon as visiting hours begin.
After she hangs up, Samantha squeals her tires and U-turns illegally to go back in the opposite direction. She parks down a side street near the rehab centre and reclines her seat, settling in for sleep. It's irrational, the lengths she'll go to be there for the girl, but she can't help but feel it's her duty. If not her, who will watch out for Lindsay, be there to support and encourage her?
She rests her feet on the car's dash and listens to traffic as it passes on a nearby freeway. I’m crazy, she thinks to herself, crazy for her.