May we meet again (Clexa)

Chapter 12

"You know my muscles ache and it's all your fault." Clarke pouted as she finished the last scoop of her pudding, her favorite thing in the place, well except for pizza night, nothing beat pizza night.

"Pudding as a peace offering?" Niylah handed her unopened pudding to Clarke, knowing full well about Clarke's mild addiction to pudding, she'd rather have her obsessed with pudding than alcohol.

"How about we share?" Clarke nibbled on her lower lip, she smirked as she watched Niylah shift in her seat and her eyes staring down at her lips. "You alright?"

"Deal... I mean yeah I'm good, great... Deal on the sharing of the lips... Pudding, I mean pudding." Niylah mumbled as she looked everywhere, but at Clarke.

"Sure, Niylah." Clarke smirked and opened the pudding, putting it in the middle of the table. They finished the cup within minutes and sat in silence, making eye contact and hurriedly looking away after being caught.

Clarke placed her hand on the metal table and looked around if anyone was watching and no one was, she inched her hand closer and stopped just close to Niylah's hand.

Slowly, Niylah inched her hand too. Their fingers collided and both their eyes shot up, staring at each other, Clarke sucked in a breath of air as her heart beat irrularly fast, Niylah on the other hand was so focused on the small touch her insides twisted in fear of what she was getting herself into.

"Dr Niylah to the main office," Niylah pulled back and got to her feet, "Dr Niylah to the Main office please."

"See you later," She said walking away, she turned back and waved as she disappeared behind the corridor.

Clarke got to her feet and made her way back into her room, "What's got you beaming?" Charlotte asked.

"It's called happiness, little dude, happiness."

"You do know I'm eighteen right?"

"Eighteen, Five same thing." Clarke joked, throwing herself on the bed and looked at the girl in front of her.

She liked being with Charlotte, she was a great kid who chose the wrong path. But knowing how she grew up, Clarke felt she never stood a chance.

Both her parents had died because of an overdose, it was true what they said. We are our parents kids. Believing that, Clarke knew that everyone has a choice.

You either do drugs because both your parents do them or you don't because your parents do them. It was a matter of choice.

"I wrote my Aunt a letter," Charlotte said, handing it over to Clarke, "I want you to read it first."

"Okay," she said, sitting up and taking the folded up paper in her hand.

"It's still a rough plan though, so don't judge to harshly."

"Give me a sec, kid." She said, opening the paper up.

Dear Aunt Luna

You always loved my jokes and I wanted to tell you one, but then I figured you wouldn't laugh. And so I'm not going to, but here goes nothing.

I am eighteen years old and I've already burned on too many times, my lungs are covered in ashes, and my heart has been pulled apart so many times I'm afraid it beats in intervals of maybes.

You are 28 and your mind is made of the ten commandments and the word of God lives on the tip of your tongue. Like an angel you pulled me out from the train wreck and crawled with me to safety.

More often then not it feels like I never left that wreckage, my mind becomes too suffocating and I don't want to be a part of it anymore, I want to be out, to be saved and the drugs made it seem like I was out, but I realize now I was just adding pain on top of pain and nothing ever got solved.