You Bring Me Home [h.s.]

what have you done?

Clara got out of bed, head pounding. She felt horrible, and didn't want to leave the house. But she figured she had to. It was only a month into the school year and the monotony had already gotten to her. Waking up at seven am is no walk in the park, and she would never understand how Harry was so upbeat at six. "Life happens without you when you're asleep," he'd always say.

"Fine by me," she'd retort, pulling the covers over her face.

She now stared into the mirror, looking her body up and down. She examined the scars on her uppermost thighs, relieved that they were scabbing over. She decided it was to best place to conceal everything, but her injuries had forced her to lie about wanting to go swimming all summer. "Don't feel like it," she'd say. It wasn't a complete lie after all; she loved to swim but hated her body. She hated feeling naked, exposed. There was almost always an audience, too. The paparazzi loved to take pictures of Harry at the pool. It didn't matter for him, though, because Harry's body was perfect. She knew they couldn't legally take pictures of her, but they'd still be looking; that alone was enough to deter her.

She hated the uniform she had to wear because the colors made her look and feel sad. She didn't care much for wearing skirts, but she was required to. It was a pretty backwards rule if you asked her, but no one did. The blazer was burgundy, and the tie was blue. She threw them on and slipped into her mary janes.

"Clara, come down for breakfast!" Denise called.

"Not hungry!" she called back, coming down the stairs. "I usually just have tea!" A plate was waiting for her at the breakfast bar. Eggs and bacon.

Clara just went for the tea, downing it in slow sips. "Clara, you have to eat."

Why was she being so uptight about this? Couldn't Denise just eat the eggs herself? "But I don't eat breakfast anymore," she lied. "I don't even get hungry until lunch."

"We're not going until you eat it, Clara." Did Harry say something to her? He must have. Clara set her tea down and began wringing her hands together, becoming anxious. She didn't have any desire to eat what was in front of her. Why couldn't Denise understand that? She winced, but decided that she should try to eat it anyway.

"I need a fork," she mumbled.

~~

Walking home that day, she felt exhausted. Really, properly exhausted. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, but that didn't mean she had grown to like it. Every day she'd get home and nap for two or three hours. Her head throbbed the same way it did when she first woke up. She dreaded arriving home, since there was nothing worse than giving into one of these naps.

She'd wake up, barely able to open her eyes. Clara would always be extremely thirsty after one of these, her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth. She'd have to go to the toilet, making the mistake of getting up too fast. Then, she'd fall back onto her bed for a few seconds until the dizziness subsided. It was horrible, and it felt like there was always one more thing wrong with her that she didn't want to address.

"Hi, Denise, m'gonna take a nap. Really tired."

Denise put a hand on her hip. "But I made you a smoothie."

"Can I drink it later?" This was code for "I'm not going to drink it, but thanks anyway."

"It might give you some energy," she suggested. Clara was already at the foot of the stairs.

"Can you just put it in the fridge, please? I'll have it with dinner," she conceded.

"Okay, sweetheart."