Needing the Impossible (A Clato Fanfic)

Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Clove's POV

Stone. Cold, grey, solid stone. This is all the view from the lone window has to offer. I was discarded into this room less than five minutes ago to await my goodbyes, but that's still enough time for me to develop a hatred of it. I want to leave already. I've been trapped here all my life and I'm ready to leave everything behind me. But I'm stuck here for now. So I focus on the stone exterior of the neighboring building. Its walls are so much stronger than mine will ever be. And I envy them. Their strength. Their cool distance. Their relentlessness. Things I sometimes believe I possess but never seem to fully wield.

I hear the door open behind me and I turn to see my father standing in the doorway. He's completely sober this morning, which actually surprises me. I expected it to remind him of why my mother died, making it even more painful than any other day of the year. But perhaps he still remembers that he cares about me too. His eyes are full of pain as he strides towards me and pulls me into his protective embrace.

“Dad,” I protest quietly, trying to push him away. I don't need a blubbering comforter; I need a strong supporter. He reads my mood and pulls out of the hug. I can see in his eyes that strength and confidence that I've missed so much over the past six months. Why couldn't he have come back to me sooner?

“I know,” he says gruffly. I watch him with a blank expression. “And I'm sorry.” He doesn't elaborate. Doesn't mention Mom, my training, the lack of food, the reaping, the Games. None of it. We both know what he's apologizing for. An explanation would be a waste of time.

I nod, keeping my expression stoic, “I know.” We stand in silence for several moments and I wait for him to say something. He only has a few minutes here. I watch him with calm, searching eyes. He watches back, an intent look on his face. He's deep in thought.

“You have to come back, Clove,” he finally says, his voice still strong. I don't respond. What do you say to something like that? Of course I need to come back. Any other option would leave me a corpse. “I can't go on without you, Clove. I-”

“Dad!” I protest loudly. “Stop it!”

“No, Clove,” he argues back, grabbing my shoulders. “Listen to me.” It's not a plea. It's not a request. It is a command. The authority in his voice is clear. I realize how much I've missed him. “Listen,” he insists. I make no move to speak or resist in any way. He continues to talk.

“When you're mother left – no, when you're mother died -” I'm surprised these words are coming from his mouth. It's the first time he's verbally acknowledged her death since the funeral. “It destroyed me,” he finishes. “And I let you down, Clove. I wasn't there. I failed.” His eyes are full of a burning intensity that has me absorbing every uttered sound. “Don't make the same mistake now. Don't let me down. Don't let yourself down, Clove. You cannot let your emotions rule you. Be strong. Do what I couldn't.”

He still has a firm grip on my shoulders and his eyes still burn with intensity as he looks for my response to his commands. I stand still for several moments after, looking back into the eyes of the man who raised me. Certainly, Mother had always been there. But that was all – she'd been there. Her presence in my life was purely physical. She kept me fed, kept my clothes clean, kept my room neat, and kept me healthy. But that was all. I had put up an emotional wall up against her long ago, and she'd never been able to penetrate it. Father was the only one I allowed in. He was always there. Always knew what to say or when to stay quiet. Always knew when to hold me and when to let me run off on my own to unleash my anger. He never let me down – until six months ago. I savor this moment in which I finally have him back.