Not Like Your Demons

Chapter 12

The cold feeling Clara has had the past evening doesn't amount to half the coldness she feels as she wakes up the next day. She's always cold and empty, but this morning cold - which she's sure is what woke her up - feels different. Initially, she is confused by the slight aching on her back, but as the early morning fog in her brain settles down, she feels the past night come back to her in full force.

Michael... Lauren's grade... Lauren... The closet... Both of them sleeping on the wall...

It was enough to fully wake her up and forget about the pain in her joints as her eyes snap open.

Clara moves her legs and frowns at the oddly weightless feeling as she does so. For some reason, they feel light - too light, in fact. Then her eyes widen as she remembers last night further and realizes that the reason why she's been feeling so cold is because Lauren's head is no longer on her lap as it was last night.

This awareness makes her heart skip a beat - she swears it does - and she startles up. Shaking not so slightly, she stands up and clumsily gropes at the wall to find the switch, her whole body engulfed in fear.

Has Michael taken Lauren while she was asleep? Has he hurt her even further?

She feels tears prick her eyes uncontrollably. She can never forgive herself if she hasn't even felt it last night.

She finally finds the switch and light fills the cold room. Clara fights the glare that the sudden illumination causes. Still, she doesn't close them, because she's eager to find her child and every second of not seeing her could mean the worst.

Her fears are assuage - but only slightly - when she sees Lauren's small form huddled on the other side of the room. Her daughter has her legs close to her chest, a terribly guilty expression coating her face. Her remorseful eyes turn to Clara when the room is illumined. Clara kneels close to her, swallowing her own tears with much difficulty. How did she not feel it when Lauren left her side?

But there's no time for self-blame now. For now, she needs Lauren to calm down, to be okay.

"It's okay, honey," she says, shakily clearing Lauren's hair off her forehead - in which a bruise has formed - and kissing it affectionately. How many times has she lied to her daughter? Nothing was ever okay. She can almost feel the fear and guilt which constantly feed off her child rebound on her so she closes her eyes for a while and pleads herself to be strong.

Lauren needs her to be strong.

"How are you feeling?" She knows it isn't exactly the right question but she hopes Lauren will open up to her after last night.

Her broken child's eyes momentarily shift downwards at the question before they are hesitantly fixated on Clara's again. The guilt and pain in them sends an arrow straight to the older woman's heart, and the pain triples when Lauren doesn't say anything back, shakes her head instead and moves her stare downward once more. Clara kisses Lauren's forehead again, hoping against hope that her child can feel how much she means to her.

"I'm o-okay, mama," Lauren whispers a few seconds after Clara's kiss. But the words feel heavy. And her voice is small, hoarse and weary. Clara has to bite her lip again to brace herself. Last night wouldn't cure anything that easily. "I-I'm sorry."

"No. No. Can you look at me, please," the mother pleads, lowering her head slightly in an attempt to catch Lauren's eyes. The plea goes unaddressed, though, as Lauren does no movement. "You have nothing to feel bad about, Lauren, just like what I said last night," she continues, the lump in her throat growing exponentially as her baby continues to avoid eye contact. "You have been a very good girl."