Snippet

Jane was taken aback by the force of her memories. They invaded her senses as she stepped further into her bedroom. Only eight months had passed since she had last seen her fiercely pink walls, and even longer since she had last wanted to. She reached out and felt her green and white comforter, then peeled it back to reveal her soft, plain sheets. She felt a stabbing pain in her chest as she rememebered the last time that she was in those sheets.
It occured to her shortly thereafter that stabbing, memory-related pains probably weren't all that good for the baby. Ignoring that logic in favor of indulging her self-destructive tendencies, she slid the comforter back even further and gingerly climbed in. Gingerly was the way that she did most things those days, always with one arm cradling her 7-month pregnant, swollen belly.
It was the first time that she had been in her bedroom in months, a bedroom that lay comfortably within a house in which she was no longer welcome. Not that she couldn't have easily forced her way back in if she so desired; sneaking out of the house as many times as Jane Quinn had in her past left her equally equipped with the knowledge of how to sneak back in. The idea that she could be kept out of her childhood house by means of a locked door and a sullen father was laughable. All it would take is a rusty bobby pin and an iron will.
And yet, it was the first time she had been in that room in months because it was the first time that being on the same street as her house wasn't emotionally, hormonally, or mentally unbearable. Not that being in her house felt any better at this point, but at least she wasn't holding back vomit or tears at the thought of her bright pink walls or her mother's Cream of Wheat.
Camille went over there often and left letters in their mailbox, as was part of the arrangement. Possibly "arrangement" is too strong a word, better replaced by "Camille's decision to forge a civil and informative relationship with Anne and Joseph Quinn".
Camille Logan handled business the right way, and believed wholeheartedly that deep down inside, Jane's parents wanted to hear the updates and details, about the things that they claimed they would "rather not know". Camille had a voiced a suspicion to her daughter Amy, that then of course found its way to Jane, that if it wasn't for Camille's delivery of biweekly update letters, Mrs. Quinn would be circling her neighborhood in her gray sedan even more often than she already did (which was surprisingly often for someone who claimed to be "uninterested in the details of her daughter's personal life from this point forward". As if her responsibilities as a mother ended when Jane's morning sickness began).
Jane thought of Camille and the home that she would be returning to as soon as she could find a way out of her old bed. She was able to sneak into the house on this 3rd day of February because she received word through Camille that her parents "may or may not have been in a car on their way to Maryland for the next 4 days". She snuck in on day 2 of the mini-vacation, jiggling the lock open on the sliding glass door in the back of the house. No wonder she felt like a stranger there.
Jane felt completely numb as she crossed the living room and headed for the door. Dozen's of pictures of herself at varying ages stared back at her, each sharing in common a wide and friendly smile.