Living With Animals

Chapter 23

Claire's P.O.V

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Alright, Claire. I'll leave you to change, then we do the Lumbar Puncture."

"Okay, thank you." I smile at her and she lives as I get dressed.

Claire's P.O.V.

After the appointment

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Hey, Claire. Hey, Claire's mom," Connor says as we walk into the kitchen. "How'd the appointment go?"

"Fine. Have you seen Lilia? I need to talk to her about Halloween costumes."

"Sorry about it but I haven't. I can call her though," he says.

"Yeah can you tell her to come over around 4:00? I need to talk with mom for a few minutes."

"Sure."

"See you later Connor."

"Bye Claire."

Mom and I turn around and head to my room but I'm stopped when I see Jacob standing there, clutching his shoulder. He stops when he sees me piecing two and two together and he looks like a deer in headlights.

"You never got that checked out in Boston, did you?"

"No," he murmurs. I sigh and shake my head at him.

"Oh my god. I'll be back in 10 minutes, then we are goign to get that checked out you idiot."

"No," he whines.

"Yes."

I continue up the stairs, mom following behind and enter my bedroom.

"Why did you say you 'had' to move there."

"Because that's where your dad wanted to move."

"Why does that have anything to do with it? You two are married. You're supposed to make decisions together."

"Because it just does."

"No mom. There's always a reason. What is the reason?"

"This the reason, okay," she yells, lifting up her shirt to show her stomach. There's a huge purple-blue bruise, very similar to mine, and a few lashes on back.

"Your fucking kidding."

"Language."

"Now is not the time to watch my language. How long has he done this?"

"Since you were 10." I don't respond, but I let the hatred show as I storm downstairs.

I run downstairs and bump into Jacob.

"Kill him. Murder him. Burn him. Kill his fucking soul, for all I care. Just get rid of him."

"Woah, woah, woah. Who did what this time. And you have arms. Your probably stronger than me," he jokes.

"Now is not the time for jokes," I respond, voice ima serious tone. "He's abused my mom for 6 fucking years, and she doesn't say anything. I don't care if he hurts me, but my mom is a different story. I don't care how cliche that sounds." His face turns emotionless as his lips purse in a straight line.

"Okay breathe. Deep breaths. We will fix this. We will calm social services or something. We can call the cops. Just calm down."

"6 year, Jacob," I cry. "That's 3 more years than me. She doesn't deserve that. And know we have to move into a house with him."

"Shh, Claira," he comforts, running his hand on my back. "It'll be alright. We will figure this out." He hugs me tightly, wrapping his arms protectively around me, as he always does. He lets me cry, not caring that i'm soaking the shoulder of his t-shirt.