A Prose With No Direction

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"Hey," Hugh says in a frantic and concerned voice. "Clara. Hey, are you okay?"

I don't know how to cry. 

No.

I don't know how to cry for someone I've lost. 

It's been so long since I cried that the tears just come out of me while I alternate between wailing and staring in silence. I know I scared Hugh when I started crying in the car and it scared  him even more when I abruptly stopped wailing. 

If I could, I would learn how to cry like a normal person so they wouldn't think me a sociopath. 

But I can't learn. 

Since every time I cry, I feel undeserving of the tears.

You're sleeping again.

Even without her presence, I can still feel her with me. 

You promised you'll learn.

I did. 

But I don't want to learn now. 

I want to sleep.

You promised you wouldn't sleep.

I want to sleep.

You promised you'll learn.

I want to sleep.

You promised you wouldn't sleep.

I want to sleep!

You promised you'll learn.

"Please! Please just let me sleep!"

So I can enter into my nightmares and escape from this terror of a reality.

"Um, you can go ahead if you want to," Hugh says. 

I look at him. 

"What do you want?" I scowl. 

His expression looks surprised. "I meant, you can sleep if you want to."

I blink.

Did I say that out loud?

I bite my lip. "I'm sorry, Hugh," I say, sighing. "I didn't mean to lash out at you. Please just take me home."

The engine roars to a start. 

"Hey," he begins. "Clara, if you want to talk, I'm here for you."

I shake my head. "I don't like talking." I pull my legs closer to me. "Please. I just wanna go home."

.

.

.

.

.

Hugh walks me to my house, keeping a good distance from me. To be honest, I feel like an ass for treating him like shit. I just don't want him to think that I want to be friends with him. 

Since he'll only end up like Ben if he becomes my penny. 

But to be even more honest, he's been acting more like a friend than any of the other people I've labeled "friend" in a while.