Writer

It’s not necessarily something she asked for, although she’s never discouraged their messages. Hell, better it be from them than her actual parents. The updates range from being about things like her mother getting promoted, to her father breaking a bone (which always succeeded in giving Zoey a sick sense of satisfaction, given the arm and tooth and rib he’d broken of hers when she was still too small to ride a bike), to her mother having another baby, and to her father getting divorced with his second wife (once a cheater, always a cheater, she supposed). They were always formatted the same:“Hey, just so you know, *insert event related to her parents here*. Hope you’re doing well!”

She never responded to these messages.

Before the Idol Awards, she would hide in her room for the rest of the day, refusing to come out even when Rumi and Mira would beg for her to do so. The thought of being seen, of being perceived, was too painful. If they opened her door (because she hated locking doors. They’d never protected her from him, only ever made him more angry. Only ever made him break it down and threaten her with further harm.), she’d cover herself with her blanket. If they tried to pull it off of her, she would clutch it tighter.

They usually would sigh sadly and give her a comforting touch through the blanket, before leaving after that. Sometimes, Mira would try to push further (it made sense, now, why Rumi never did; after all, she wasn’t letting them in, so why should Zoey let her in?), but even she understood when Zoey had enough of her nudging.

She never felt more worthless than when she had to think about her parents. She couldn’t stand the idea of the two most important people in her life seeing her and thinking she was.

Now, though, things were different. Their communication skills, as a collective, had improved immensely since those days. Rumi and Zoey actually talked about the things that made them feel bad, while Mira knew their limits and the hurt her often brutal honesty caused them more.

So, instead of hiding from her girlfriends, Zoey would go straight to them. If they weren’t together, she’d ask whoever she found first to call the other to them. She’d hold out her arms, hug them tightly, push them back until they were sitting on something, and scramble onto their laps.

And then she would ask them a series of questions.

“Do you want me?”

“Do you think I’m worthless?”

“Do you love me?”

“Do you think I’ve ruined your lives?”

“Do you need me?”

She wouldn’t look them in the eye as she did so. Maybe someday she’d get to a point where she could do it, but for now, it was too hard to so. She would simply sit there, waiting for a response from them, before moving on to the next question.

The first time she’d done this, it had startled them so bad they’d tried to pull away, which had caused her to panic and clutch them closer. “Don’t,” she’d gasped, “Don’t go. Please.”

They’d stayed.

She could feel the way each further question unsettled them, however. Questions of how she could ever doubt these things of them were quickly followed by firm reassurances.

Overtime, though, they’d grown used to the unpleasant questions, although they were noticeably never comfortable with them. They eventually developed a series of responses to her questions that they would recite each time, with some variations here and there, some examples of when they wanted her, moments when she made them love her more, times when they needed her, the different ways she’d made their lives better, all recent, all fresh. It made their love feel safe, but ever-changing in its beauty. Always genuine.

Often, she’d claw at their clothing afterwards, desperate for the intimacy of their bare skin against hers. Sometimes, she would begin to grope them, indicating her need for further validation from sex. Most of the time, she wouldn’t. Their skin against hers would be all she needed.

Either ways, the three of them would lie together afterwards, and she’d say one last thing to them.

“Stay. Please.”

It wasn’t a question. But they always had the same answer.