Lucy made a B-line to the bathroom once they entered the apartment. She did not want to make it abrupt, but she had to check her flow. She felt a strong wave of stupidity strike her rosy cheeks as she had mistakenly not asked to stop at the store--or gas station. Her hands were tucked into her blue stone washed, faded jean pockets as she slinked her way into the bathing area of the apartment. Before entering the bathroom, she un-tucked her right hand and wiped several humidity stricken strange of cotton-pink hair from her face. Her lips pressed together, and her body pressed against the door, which was slightly ajar. Again, with her right hand she flicked on the lights, feeling a tangible sigh wave over her. The bathroom looked as filthy as ever--something she strangely found masculine about Parker, as if her own nesting could actually go into--Lucy quickly shook the thought from her mind. It was gross. [I]It was gross.[/I] Men. Boys. [I]Boys/[/I] She unzipped her jeans and pulled them down carefully, down her thighs and legs, and then repeated the same procedure with her brief cut panties, bandaged with bloody toilet paper. The smell resonated, and she could feel the unattractive squeal in her mind, which was quickly quieted by the usualness of the situation. She could remember her first period for a brief second--and it washed away her girlish pain and reminded her she was a woman. A [I]fucking[/I] woman. [I]Fucking[/I]. She smiled, laughing inside her mind at herself. She quickly tore off the bloody toilet paper from her panties and chunked it into the toilet. With the toss, she was reminded of the feminine hygiene products she had left under the sink when her and Parker were [I]a thing[/I]. Why wouldn't they still be there? She quickly put more toilet paper around her panty-line and pulled her up her panties. With her jeans still around her ankles, she carefully squatted over to the sink, jamming open the squeaky lower sink door. [I]Spread the germs, girl,[/I] she told herself as she watched her fingers wrap around the doorknob. A single pad wrapped in green was lying in the corner. [I]What fucking luck[/I], she could feel her breaths getting a little heavy at the excitement--as if she had discovered gold. She'd last the night. She would last the night. She grabbed the pad and pulled her panties back down and sat back down on the toilet, unwrapping the pad. Why was she sporting pads and not sporting tampons? Maybe that's the actual reason Parker had broken up with her. Who even wears pads anymore? She was deathly afraid of Toxic Shock Syndrome--something her mother, unfortunately, drilled into her head as a young girl. Her mother. [I]Fuck.[/i] She had not thought about her mother in ages. Days. Weeks. Months. It reminded of her of her father, her family... She cringed. A longing to hold someone flushed over her. [I]Parker[/I]. Her last actual commitment... She quickly slapped the pad onto her panties. And pulled her panties up carefully, as to not disturb the positioning of the feminine napkin. She slithered back into her pants and washed her hands to the best of her ability and exited the bathroom, opening the door in general hasty manner to find strong, muscular Parker standing right in front of her. Her first instinct was to hug him and give him her feelings--whether solicited or not. But reality was all too quick to set inside her hormones. She let out of a breath of relief that she had no just embarrassed herself. Not that a hug would have "ruined" anything. She looked up at him, gazing over his facial features for anything peculiar that might set her off. Nothing. "Sorry," she looked down, not realizing how odd she was acting, "Excuse me," her pre-high school manners shining through the awkward situation. She was tired. Yeah, that was it. And sometimes, the only thing keeping her ticking was the little girl with a pink guitar playing music for the people she loved most. Thank the fucking Lord they were going to watch Disney movies. --- She entered the living room area, "Okay, [I]guys[/I]," she laughed cynically, "If I start crying during any of these movies, it's because I'm fucking bleeding from my vagina." To be honest, she loved [I]the guys[/I]. No matter what. Parker included, of course.