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Chapter 1

Her hands were everywhere. She pushed my back into the carpet as her mouth brushed against my ear, "This will be our special secret, no one needs to know but us." My head moves robotically saying okay to whatever words just came out of her mouth. My heart beating in my ears begins to cloud everything else. Fear engulfs me as she encircles my wrists and moves my hands touching her in places that I knew was wrong.

"I don't think that this is okay," the words just barely escaped my lips.

"Shut up, be silent." 

With my eyes the size of saucers and a bead of sweat dripping from my forehead, I wake up from this horrible flashback with a start as my body rolls from my bed to the floor with a loud clump. My lungs begin to constrict as I pull my limp body towards the wall. Knees to my chest the air to my lungs begins to lessen by the second. The faster I breathe it doesn't matter, no air gets there.

She can't hurt me anymore, I will not let her hurt me anymore. 

The thought of this begins to calm me as air seeps back into my lungs. I wipe the tears from my face, ones I don't recall producing. My bedroom door flies open revealing my father in a state of complex manic.

"Honey, are you okay I heard you yelling. Was it a night terror like the ones you had when you were little?"

"No, Dad. Just a bad dream, just happy it wasn't real." I force a tight lip smile as his worried eyes scan my form still pressing against the wall.

But it wasn't just a dream it was a horrid memory but the truth would kill him. 

"And a panic attack I see. You sure you don't want to talk about it?" He gives me taught smile.

His emotions are easy to read, they always have been. He didn't want to talk about it.

"No that's okay. Just got to take a shower, I've got therapy today."

"Okay, if you need anything come talk to me."

Or not, its not like he wants me to. He'll just try shoving more pills down my throat like thats the answer to everything. I pull myself from the floor as he walks back down the hallway. I jump in the shower and begin to scrub furiously trying to get them off.

Germs, I could see them. Crawling,writhing, burrowing into my flesh on every single inch of where she touched me. Creating the dirty, used, freak that is me. 

I break out of this trance as I feel a stinging in my arm. I look down and all I can see is red. Red blood dripping out of my skin all from an attempt to get rid of her. The blood wouldn't quit flowing.

What have I done?

I wrap my arm in a towel and apply pressure. That's what your supposed to do right? I unwrap the mess to reveal long red gashes up my arm. Shit, how am I supposed to hide this.

I pull on a oversized sweater and leggings. Thank god it's fall, which means long sleeves, it makes this a whole lot easier. The scent of waffles has wafted its way to my room causing my stomach to let out a loud inhuman gurgle. As I walk towards the kitchen the scent only gets better.

"I'm going to guess waffles today."

"It's the only thing I know how to fix what else was it supposed to be, everyone knows that your the one who cooks around here."

"What can I say I have taken up a niche for cooking shows," I give him a small smile trying to put on a good show. He gives me a small laugh in return, I have been successful. He places two plates at the table and takes his seat. 

"So therapy today, with Susan?" 

"Yep," I push my hair behind my ear trying to prevent the recreation of the syrup disaster of '09. The loose sweater that was supposed to be my cover up also had loose sleeves which slid up to my elbow while moving my hair. As quick as I pulled my sleeve down my dad had my wrist in his hand pulling up my sleeve.

"Clarke. What happened?" His eyebrows furrow in concern.

"Oh that," I say looking at the gashes "Scrubbed to hard I guess."

"That happened from scrubbing to hard?"

"Well I felt it sting a little in the shower so I'm assuming," I say this with a light shrug trying to brush this off.

"Okay, you need to talk to Susan about it today if it was more than-"

"It wasn't," I cut him off. I shove a huge chunk of waffle into my mouth as he did the same leaving an awkward silence. I throw my plate in the sink and grab my bag from the entry way table.

"You want me to drive you today?"

"Nope, I got my license a week ago I'm going to exercise my right to use it" I wave my keys in the air as I walk to the door. "I'll text you!" I slam the door with a triumphant bang. 


"So tell me about your week," Susan clasps her hands in her lap.

"Tell me about your week Susan," I say as I sit back in my chair a little.


"We focus to much on me in here lets talk about you."

"Maybe another day Clarke. How was your week, how many panic attacks did you have?"

"Well I've had one a day so 7," I shift my weight a little.

"You had one today then?" She makes a small note in her Ipad.

"Yep, as soon as I woke up. Night terror. It happens its no big deal, I did the breathing exercises and stuff we talked about and they helped."

"I'm glad to hear that, this is what we should be talking about in here. Now what happened to your arm?"


I leave her office truly drained. Not physically but emotionally, this calls for caffeine. A huge wall collides with me. 

"Fuck," I mutter as I stumble back.

"Yeah I'd say."

Okay so not a wall, a person. How could I just run into someone in a open parking lot.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry." My eyes lock with this stranger dark hair and almond eyes meet mine.

"It's fine."

"Your new." I comment out loud. Crap that was supposed to stay inside.

"Yea, I've never been here before."

"It's a really bad mistake you might want to turn back now." I mutter.

"My mom wants me to come, so I'm going to try and do this to make her happy."

"I understand that. Well good luck its kinda like hell in there. You have to talk about your feelings," I grimace as I walk to my car. 

Now on to Starbucks.

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Chapter 2

I have trouble trusting people, because the very people who say they care about you can just turn around and hurt you again.

I write this in my journal, because the prompt was to right our biggest weakness. Group therapy sucks. 

"Okay now we are going to go around and we are going to share. Those of us who feel comfortable sharing to the group," Susan says while looking around the room preying on her next victim. My dad and I have an agreement, I go to personal sessions, and group sessions and I have to share at least one time every group session. If I do so he stays off my back.

"I wrote about my trust issues."

"And how are they your biggest weakness Clarke?"

"Because even people I've known my whole life can turn around and hurt me."

"How does this affect you day to day?"

"I don't get close to anyone, that way when they leave it won't matter as much. What about you Susan, whats your biggest weakness?"

"My biggest weakness is well, lets see" she purses her lips in concentration "I'm very controlling and I strive to fix it. I don't like to delegate jobs or tasks to people I'd rather do it all myself."

"Thank you for sharing Susan."

"I thought I was supposed to be the leader here. Okay-" The door opens to the back of the room wall boy walks in.

"I'm so sorry I'm late."

"No Oliver please take a seat." The only open seat is by me. Crap. He walks my direction and sits down. 

"Okay anyone else like to share?" She waits a minute and no one answers. "Alright so we are going to go around and everyone needs to share a high and low for this week, who would like to start?" The boy next to me raises his hand. 

"Hi I'm Oliver, I'm new so I thought I should introduce myself. My high would be that I moved into this really nice house but my low would be that I moved 6 hours away."

"Which way would you like to send the question?" He points towards me. "Also how bout all of us introduce ourselves so that way Oliver will know."

"I'm Clarke. My high would be that I aced my French test and my low is that I had a really bad panic attack the other day."This question continues around until it gets back to Oliver.

"Okay thank you all so much for sharing I hope to see you all again next week." I grab my bag off the back of the chair and walk towards the door. 

"Hey, Clarke right?" The almond eye boy asks.

"Yea, and you're Oliver?"

"Yep thats me," He says with a crooked grin. I open the door and walk outside scanning the parking lot for my dad. Oliver is right on my heels.

"The one day I rely on him to drive me and he isn't even here." I pick up my phone and call him, but it went straight to voicemail.

"Hey if you need a ride I can drop you off."

"Yea, I would but I don't really know you plus my dad should be on his way." I call him again this time he answers.

"Hey Dad. Where are you?"

"I got stuck at the office, can you just take the bus or walk home today?" I hear him mutter through the other line.

"I'll figure something out." I quickly end the call.

"So do you need that ride after all?"  Oliver laughs his dark hair ruffled by the fall wind. 

"How do I know you aren't a stalker with a machete in his trunk ready to cut me up into little bits?"

"I'm not a stalker," he says this with a deep throated laugh.

"That's exactly what a stalker would say." I start walking through the parking lot. "Which one if yours?"

"Thought I was a stalker?" He walks towards me smiling and shaking his head. 

"Well if you are my dad will learn to come and get me next time."


"Thanks for dropping me off really."

"Oh no problem." He answers glancing at my house.

"So where do you live?"

"Just down the street actually," He says pointing.

"Oh the Marks' old house. So you'll be going to West Dupont then?"

"Thats what I've been told." I pull my pen out of my bag and pick up a napkin.

"I know what it's like being the new kid in town, here is my number if you need anything." I open the door of his jeep and slide out, leaving the napkin in the seat. "Thanks again." I started walking towards the door when I hear him roll down the window.

"I told you I wasn't a stalker," he shouts to me.

"That's what they all say. You just wanted me to think you weren't next time I might end up in the trunk with a bag over my head."

"You watch to many movies," he says with a ear to ear grin.

"I don't really like movies." I waited long enough outside to see his jaw drop at my comment before I walked inside shutting the door with a grin. 



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