Dependance

His father was right. Women love shopping. A lot.

Vincent looked to the middle of the living room, where a rainbow mountain of plastic bags piled up. Lorna’s head popped up from under a random crimson bag (some shadowy cosmetics tumbling around her ears) and laughed -almost hysterically.

“Who knew something so wrong could be so…,” she struggled for the word, “exciting.”

Vincent smiled at her. She dove into her possessions again and a few moments later emerged at the bottom of the mountain. She took a second to giggle giddily then gazed up to him, beaming; a dimple formed one of her creamy cheeks and laughter-lines formed around her chocolate orbs in a pleasant manner.

“So what did you thieve?” She asked merrily, yanking a red fishnet glove onto her left hand. Just the way she said it made Vincent cough up a rough chuckle.

Lorna’s smile dropped to a more easy level as she realized that was the first time he had laughed; and more importantly, he seemed to find her funny.

Vincent peered down curiously; Lorna was lying stomach down. The black sweater that she was wearing had been tugged down at the front when she had crawled out of Bag Mountain. Vincent could see her cleavage. Flushing instantly, he turned to look at the window. The girl picked herself up from the ground (and thankfully straightened her clothing), then proceeded to pick up one of the bags that contained his items.

“Let’s have a look then, “ she muttered as she rooted through the bag. Identifying the clothes as all black (the silver of a chain here and there) and gothic, she emitted an “ooh” of appreciation.

Vincent calmed down, yet he continued to stare at the window - he could not stare out of it because of the wooden planks that boarded it on the outside. Why these sudden emotions for this girl? There were so many things wrong with it.

Firstly, he was about as inexperienced as a newborn child. It would not go anywhere even if he tried. She would probably see him as some annoying child in her way.

That brought him onto his next objection: age. She was so much younger. Almost out of her teenage years. It was considered wrong on many accounts to have a significant other that had a large age difference.

Another factor was his appearance. Simply and bluntly, no one would want to touch him with a flag pole. His eyes suddenly fluttered, remembered back to when her fingertips had grazed against his forehead so lightly…No! It was wrong, right?

At approximately ten in the evening Lorna stirred from her slumber and lazily turned on her side. What an odd dream she had had. The female had noticed in the start of her adolescence that her dreams tended to focus romantically on males that she knew - if she liked them like that or not. They would have flickered every now and then in her sleeping state to different people. But this one had scrutinized only one person. Vincent. In her mind they had been simply walking through an emerald meadow, hand in hand, rosy cherry blossoms falling around them like rain. But what was a dream without an abnormality? There had also been floating candles. If a blossom had caught a flame then it would sparkle into pink dust and sift into the grass.

These hormonal dreams of hers were just too weird.

From her place on the couch Lorna eyed the room; dark, foreboding, and at this moment in time scaring the hell out of her. Cringing slightly, she jumped off the sofa -which resulted in that type of pain you can only experienced from waking up just a little too fast- and walked to the stairs. She was not the type of person that could sleep in creepy environments. Though she supposed not many could. The floor beneath Lorna creaked loudly as she headed upstairs and into the only bedroom. Vincent was lay face down on the bed, light snores sounding throughout the room every six seconds. For a whole minute Lorna stood, apprehensively, gazing at Vincent’s form. She did want to get some shut eye, considering they were setting off in the morning for ‘new unknown lands‘. But would he mind if he slept in the same bed (one very paranoid thought whispered to her the chance that he might harm her, but it soon flittered away with most worries)?Shrugging and thinking ‘it is not worth losing sleep over’ she clambered into the right side of the queen sized bed and snuggled under the covers; careful not to disturb Vincent with any sudden movements or draftsin the covers. She curled some of the quilt in her left hand andnuzzled up to it, staring in a fatigued manner at Vincent’s wavy hair.

Vincent’s eye creaked open to see a blue of brown - the walls of the bedroom. The male was content to lay their sluggishly and let his other senses scope out the room. There was the drone of cars going where ever they were going. And the breathing of something else in the room. There was enveloping warmth of the bed under him. Yet the weight of the bed felt a little different from what he remembered of last night. His eye widened a little more as his focus came. Someone else was in the bed with him.

There was only one person that would be in this bed with him: Lorna. He furrowed his brow in confusion. Shuffling and rolling over he finally lay on his side facing the girl. Her sweet sleeping face glowed around the edges as the sun filtered through the windows and hit the back of her head. From what he knew, to be sleeping in bed with a another women bluntly meant they were together. So why in God’s name was she here? They did not have any form of relationship apart from acquaintance bordering on friendship.

She was awake now and staring at him. That look in her eye said that she was waiting for something, expecting some reaction maybe. Like and ant in a crowded place, awaiting it's doom. Finally she spoke.

“Sorry. I know I was meant to sleep down stairs but it was…creepy.” At that moment in time she realized how weak she sounded. Lorna cringed inwardly.

So this was no proclamation of something more than friendship? Merely the need to sleep comfortably. Part of him felt relieved, it would just be too bizarre for him if anything like that happened - yet he could not help but feel somewhat disappointed. Thinking back to his waking moments it had been reassuring to wake up and feel the weight of person filling the void. Soothing to hear that person’s reposing breath.

“Suppose we’d better get ready…I’ll go out and get us some breakfast…” With that Lorna left the room. Vincent sighed.

Queuing in a quaint sandwich shop Lorna stared idly at the dusty TV which was positioned on a shelf behind the counter. A few ham and chicken sandwiches and juice boxes lay in her slender hands.

“Report of a break in at the Carter Mall has shocked the people of this pleasant town, as CCTV footage shows two figures, one male, one female, breaking into the complex in the early hours of the morning. The video shows the female disabling alarms. They only stole from alternate clothing shops on the top floor - which has sent police on a search for all people of a gothic preference…” Lorna’s sandwiches were nearly falling from her hand. Her mouth kept opening and closing,a fish out of water.They were showing footage of her and Vincent; close up! “Authorities request that anyone who has seen these two people contact them immediately.” Then two very detailed pictures of Lorna and Vincent appeared on the screen. A ball of breath hitched in the females throat. They really had to get out of here…

Stepping up to the counter she quickly placed her items and remaining money on the marble counter and pretended to look over her clothes and straighten them, so no one would see her face.

Vincent heard the door bang open and looked up just as Lorna skidded into the room kicking up dust. Her brown eyes were gleaming in fear, and a thin film of sweat layered her brow.

“They’re after us…,” she panted, as if she had ran a marathon, “…have…to go! Now!”

Vincent was standing now in alarm. Lorna rushed around, grabbing all the possessions an items that littered the floors and tables. The girl proceeded by rushing outside, and Vincent heard the slamming of a car door. Once back inside she walked up to him and gripped the lapels of his trench coat, bringing his face to hers.

“We have to go! If they take me in they’ll have to get my dad! Please help!” Tears were bubbling in her eyes and she was close to hysterics. Vincent nodded rapidly and began to haul the millions of bags out to the car. The male did not want Lorna to go back to her father. He would hurt her. She would be unhappy. And Vincent would be alone in this world. As he placed all the objects into the back of the yellow truck he could not remember how they had managed to carry all these back to the house last night. Finally the two hopped into the vehicle (Lorna in the driver’s seat) and the rumbling start of the engine revved.

“Sometimes I just wish we were all single cells again.” Lorna chuckled quietly. “There would be no laws, no societies, no conformities. Just pure freedom. I suppose this is where criminality is justified.” The female released the handbrake and drove off quickly, heading for the freeway., going as fast as she could without getting noticed by the patrolling police cars.

After half an hour of uneasy silence, Vincent spied the fuel gage and blinked. He reached out with his hand and pointed at it. Lorna took a glance away from the road and took in the information.

“We should be okay for a while. Just keep your eyes out for any gas stations, okay?” Vincent grunted an affirmative noise.