The house was quiet as it mostly was, two out of three people in the household introverts. So when Vi and Caitlyn, who had been relaxing on the couch, heard the tell-tale crying, they knew something was wrong.

Caitlyn approached you first, knocking on the bathroom door where the crying hand come from, Vi waiting hesitantly behind.

“Darling? What’s wrong?” Slowly, you open the door and she sees the mess. Oh. Oh oh oh. Poor thing.

Vi leaned against the doorway with an apologetic expression. Both your mothers could tell this was overstimulating.

“Aw, kiddo. Want some help? Please, take a breath. It’s alright.”

Vi supplied, and they both waited for your consent to come in and help.

They knew you had to get your period eventually.