Tears formed in Norma's eyes.

   She was tired yet refused to fall asleep. The idea of sleeping whilst being monitored put her through extreme distress, and her thoughts drifted to Norman and what he must be doing now.

    He wasn't her little boy anymore.

   Norma huffed.

   Her hands ran through greasy hair. She had pulled the band from it a while ago, passing the time by threading it across her fingers. That is, until it busted. Norma sighed. Her hand flexed and the black band fell to the floor. It didn't matter anyway. Heck, she'd already killed someone. Surely they wouldn't be so concerned as to stick her with littering.

   Someone tapped on the door.

   Norma made an elegant turn and gazed out the door, her blood boiling as she watched Shelby eye her through the glass. She turned around again, making a point to ignore him.

   He came in. "Hey, Norma," he coughed. In his hand was a plate of food. "I thought you might want this."

   The sandy-haired deputy held the plate for a few moments, staring down at it as if trying to carefully choose his words. "Huh, you don't have to talk, but it might help if you said something, anything."

   Norma returned his futile attempts with a stony glare.

   "You should really eat something."

   "What do you want me to say?" came her morose whisper.

   "What?"

   "What do you want me to say?!?" She screeched, slapping the plate of food from his hand. Norma half expected his reflexes to kick in right then a respond to her violence outburst, yet he only stood there in minute silence. His eyes darted from himself, to the spilt food, and back to her a few times before he picked up the plate and it's utensils and left.

   Guilt wormed in Norma's chest.

   She had denied any and all involvement in the disappearance of Keith Summers, and had even attempted to make good with Deputy Shelby. It wasn't enough. Upon finding Summers' hand in the lake, they arrested Norma, landing her in jail.

   The blonde-haired culprit had been here for an hour. She had called the house once. It was her only call, and as far as her luck was going, there was no way she was getting out of here anytime soon.

   Norma hated being here, and yet the guilt continued to crawl in her chest.

   If she called home and nobody got the call...was it possible that the police had tracked down Norman and brought him in? Surely if they did, she would've known it by now.

   It doesn't matter. He doesn't care. All you've done for him, and he goes and sleeps with a girl while knowing that there could be trouble. He failed me the night Keith Summers raped me, and again tonight when he vanished to make out with goodness-knows-who. It's been one time too many. He doesn't deserve my heartache.

   Shelby's words came back to her: "I know that you have spent your life taking care of other people. But you're making their problems yours. You're carrying that weight, and you wear it like an armour, but the truth is, it is weighing you down." 

   It didn't make her trust him any further. In fact, after this, she knew she would never be able to trust Zack again.

   But Norma would never do anything for anyone again. It was too heavy, this weight. It felt as though her skin would burst at the seams, overwhelmed by the grief that those around her had caused. She was making Dylan's problems hers. Moreover, she was making Norman's problems hers.

   She raised her chin, trying to feel confident again. Norman is his own person, she told herself. He might as well be an adult now. If he wants to go off and do his own thing while his dear old mother wastes away in a stupid old house, that's on him. No mercy here, no guilt.

   And yet, thinking it didn't make it so simple. A part of her would always feel responsible for her son. A part of her would always think of him as her little boy, still fresh and new to the world. A part of her would always feel guilty for the crime that he committed, and her own crime that she had involved him in.

   Another hour passed. Her eyelids threatened to close.

   And yet, something about that camera made her sick.

   Norma could just imagine Zack sitting on the other side of that camera, looking in at her, admiring her tousled hair, pouty lips, and fair skin. She could imagine the strain of his eyes as he continued to stare at the fuzzy screen. He probably meditated over her, wondering what must be going on in her seemingly intricate head.

   You're misled if you even think you know what's going on here, she thought, directing her gaze to the antagonizing camera.

   Awful still was the idea of Sheriff Romero spying in on her. She was almost sure she had felt his unmoving gaze resting on her before. Had he already figured in his mind what had happened the night she killed Keith Summers, or had some other, more violent scene played out in his mind?

   Norma sighed. It didn't matter. Either way, her bail was set at $100,000. Unless they came up with something crazy, there would be no way Dylan and Norman were getting her out of here. Furthermore, she wouldn't put it past Dylan to leave her here for the rest of her life.

   Her mind threatened to go on a tanget about her eldest son. She stopped herself. It's not his fault, you know that. He's only doing what he thinks is right in his own eyes, and he doesn't realize what you've done for him. The more she pondered it, the more she realized that the same probably applied to Norman.

   It wasn't like he asked to be born with blackouts. It was something that just happened, another burden that Norma was trying to keep him from.

   That didn't matter, now. If he wanted to know about the blackouts, she would tell him. Norma was done carrying the weight of others.

   Norman would have to control his own issues.