Chapter Fifteen: Home

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George POV 

The rest of the car ride is as peaceful as it could be. Clay sniffles every once in a while but other than that the only sound is the engine of the car. The dark silhouettes of the trees blur in my vision as we drive by. 

I want to devote more time to analyzing Clay's panic attack, to really try and figure out what made him break down, but tiredness is beginning to wain on my mind and, truthfully, I just want to go to bed and leave this night behind. 

As Clay's house came into view, he switches off the headlights. I shoot him a glance with my brows furrowing in confusion. He glances back at me and simply raises his finger over his lips. 

Ah. We're being quiet. Of course; can't have his parents finding out about Clay's battered face. 

The car pulls into the driveway, or more accurately, inches. We close the doors with much precision and focus, needing to meet that fine line of being quiet but also having the door actually close. 

Finally, we make our way to the front door, creeping the doorknob open ever so slightly. Thank god the door isn't squeaky. We swiftly untie our shoes, placing them gently on the bench that is filled with many other pairs of shoes. 

Just as I was about to stand back up a light flicks on behind us. I jolt up in surprise, regrettably letting out a small squeak in the process. Clay also jumps and whips his head around, only to be met with the face of his younger sister. 

"Jesus Claire, you scared us half to death," I huffed out in a whisper-yell, clutching my chest. 

"Good morning to you too," she whispers back smugly from her seat on the couch, her face still pointed down in her phone. Morning? I pull out my phone quickly and see the illuminated time of 1:12 am. Oh, morning. 

I can see that she is about to make another comment, finally looking up from her phone when her eyes widen. 

Claire immediately gets up and rushes to her brother. "Clay, what the fuck happened?" The worry in her voice is poorly hidden and her once snarky teenage demeanor has melted away. 

As she gets within a couple of feet of her brother, reaching towards his face, he retreats towards the corner of the room, almost using me as a barricade from his sister. Claire stops and looks at me, silently asking me for an explanation. 

I much as I know she should get an answer, I can't help but fear that retelling tonight's events would cause Clay to relapse. That's the last thing that any of us want. I subtly shake my head, hoping that she will understand who I'm doing it for. 

She seemingly gives up on me and abruptly says, "I think you need to go to the hospital." Clay immediately waves her off and begins to walk into the kitchen. 

It's not that bad. 

"Not that bad? Dude your nose looks like a boomerang and your lip looks like it needs fifty stitches," Claire scoffs, "Not to mention you might have a concussion." 

She makes a very good point. Too good of a point. However, we both know Clay has a strong hatred for hospitals, which was bad even before he went mute, I can't even imagine how it is now. 

Clay simply signs no as he pours himself a glass of water. He turns and asks if I wanted one, to which I reply with a yes. As I start to make my way towards the kitchen, I feel a jab to my side. I turn and find Claire next to me. 'What?' I mouth to her, she gestures her head towards Clay. 

Does she want me to convince him? Seriously? I don't know what I could say that would be different from her, since they are actually family. 

I mutter a thank you as Clay hands me a glass of water, taking a sip to try and stall. What am I even supposed to say? Why can't Claire argue with him over this? I really don't want to have another incident tonight. I just want to sleep. 

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