Safety

Chapter 18.

Hey. Get ready, this chapter is going to go over/explain a lot.! Please vote! Love you all. ~Taylor

Fun fact: Clara's full name is Clara Faye Reynolds, her childhood name was Clara-Faye, lol.

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Song for this chapter - Drive by Miley Cyrus

ONE WEEK LATER

CLARA'S POV.

"He talked to me, he called me pet names, like baby and angel." I gulped. "Then he...disappeared."

Mrs. Rose--Chandler, as she asked me to call her by her first name--nodded, her clipboard untouched in her bony hands. Her red lips were pursed into a semi-straight line as she made a 'hmm' noise, as if she understood what was going through my mind. Maybe she did understand, after all, she was a mental therapist.

After my incident with me hallucinating up Lucas in my bedroom, my mom became concerned. My father had these problems when he was my age, so she thought it would be best to do what my fathers' mother did to my father when she found out what was happening:

Therapy. Mental therapy. I always was scared to become one of the patients, as they called them, but now I was and I had my own scheduled appointments with this lady that honestly doesn't care about me in any way personally. This was my first day with her, but still. I could tell by the look on her face that she was just getting her job done. That's all she probably thought of it.

My therapist had short black hair that fell in a straight line to her ears. She had electric green eyes that would make you squirm in your seat when you looked her in the eyes, a complete opposite from Harry's eyes, which were less intense.

My mom had let Harry come over after school a few times after the incident I had. She said it was better to have friends over to help me than be alone. That fact was true in my case--Harry had helped me with a lot this past week. He made me realize that I didn't have to be as scared as I was because he wouldn't be coming after me any time soon. Why would he?

Maybe that question had an answer. Maybe it didn't.

I really didn't think I needed a therapist, this was just a one-time thing probably. But for the way my mind was able to create an imaginary person that moves and talks and looks so real is kind of nerve-wracking.

This was my first session at therapy, and hopefully my last. If only I could be able to convince my mom to make these stop-- because there was nothing wrong with me!--I would currently be much happier. Harry told me to go with the flow and to tell him everything. We've been getting a lot closer since I told him about Lucas. I just hoped that he wasn't just staying by my side because he thought I was a scared little girl that needed protection from the world. A little voice at the back of my head tells me that that is true. I try not to believe it.

The therapist talks.

"So, how did your parents handle this after it happened?" She said, referring to the imagination of Lucas.

"Um, my dad passed away. My mom handled it well, she made sure I wasn't upset after it happened and never left me alone." I wanted to roll my eyes at how much she did to make sure I was okay. It sickened me to know that in her eyes the whole time I wasn't okay. She was the one who prescribed my therapy session to my doctor. I tried not to be angry at her when she told me I had to go once a week. She just wanted the best for me, I had said in my head over and over.

Chandler--it sounded so weird calling her Chandler, it was like I knew her personally.--looked startled and looked down at her clipboard.

How cliché. A clipboard.