Invisible String Of Love

Fighting Through The Fog

No matter how hard Clementine tried to forget about her family, she couldn't shake the persistent feeling of guilt mixed with responsibility. Despite everything that happened during their childhood, she felt compelled to reconnect with them, especially her siblings, as if she were somehow responsible for it all. Now, Clemmy couldn't focus on anything Mr. Clayton was saying; her mind was overwhelmed with thoughts, especially about her sister's death. She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize she had been staring at Clay's lips for a full three minutes.

"Clementine? Are you still with me?" Clay asked, his voice cutting through the haze as he cleared his throat and tried to refocus her attention.

Clemmy snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly and shaking her head slightly. "Hu-huh? Oh, yeah, yeah," she mumbled, her gaze dropping to her lap in an attempt to hide her embarrassment.

"It's okay. Are you starting to feel restless?" Clay asked gently, his voice soft and soothing, and his gaze calm and serene, like a deep, tranquil sea. When Clemmy nodded, Clay stood up and began stretching. "Come on, stand with me," he invited, extending his hand with a smooth gesture.

"Oh, okay..." Clemmy responded hesitantly, rising to join him in the stretch. This was a regular part of their sessions; they often took short breaks to stretch or engage in physical activity whenever Clemmy began to feel restless or drifted into her thoughts.

After a moment, they sat back down to resume their conversation. This time, Clay handed her a small pen to keep her hands occupied and help her concentrate. "Where were we?" Clay asked, glancing at his journal to track their session. His Scottish accent was subtle but still noticeable.

He quickly glanced back at Clemmy as he recalled the topic of their conversation. "Right... We were discussing your recent nightmares," he said, his gaze intent. "You mentioned that they now include new elements, such as your father blaming you for your little sister's accident, or suggesting that he orchestrated it."

"Yes... You're right..." Clemmy murmured, her breath catching as she recalled the recent nightmares. Previously, her nightmares had only shown scenes of her father abusing her mother, herself, or her siblings, reminiscent of her past trauma. Now, however, they were filled with new, harrowing scenarios, intensifying the distress she felt.

"Can you tell me about it and how it made you feel?" Clay asked, his journal and pen ready, like a soldier preparing for battle. Clemmy took a deep breath, her hands fidgeting with the small pen as she struggled to focus on the question.

Finally, she stammered, "Uh... just two nights ago, I had sleep paralysis because of it. I couldn't move, couldn't do anything—not even breathe..." Her voice quivered, and her body, especially her hands, began to shake.

"During that... um, I—I was staring at a shadow of a man who looked like my dad," Clemmy continued, her voice strained as if she were struggling to keep it together. Her breath grew shallow as she spoke. "He was holding a paddle—the same one he used to beat us with." Her mind replayed the image of the shadow swinging the paddle in a menacing way, just as her father had done when she was a child, ready to strike her for minor offenses, like simply being a child.

"I don't know how to feel about it... I—I just—I'm sorry!" she cried out, her tears spilling as her sweaty hands buried her face. She was overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions—anger, fear, panic, shame, guilt, and a sense of responsibility—too intense and complex to articulate or find the right words for.

"It's okay not to know exactly how to feel right now," Clay murmured softly, jotting down his observations about her behavior as he nodded in sympathy, watching her cry. "Experiencing nightmares and sleep paralysis, especially when they're linked to something as painful as your past, can stir up a lot of confusing emotions." He added before setting his journal down on the desk and leaning in slightly to bridge the gap between them, his demeanor gentle and attentive.