Chapter Sixteen: A Talk with Drista

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TW: very brief implications of self-harm 

Stay safe ily <3 

George POV

From my place on the couch, I see Helen's car pull out of their driveway and begin the drive to the hospital. Although it's too dark for me to see into the car, I can only imagine the type of quiet interrogation that Clay is getting from his mother. 

Even when she was inside with him, I could see that she was concerned and frankly pissed off for being awake at such an hour. However her fear of losing her already distant son most likely outweighs any desire for an angry outburst or intense scolding. 

As the headlights of the car disappear from view, Claire doesn't waste another second before asking, "what the fuck happened at that party?" 

My head turns at the sudden voice in the dead silent room. Her eyes lock with mine almost immediately. She's been waiting to ask this question since we walked through the door. She hid it for a while, covering her worry with the sarcastic attitude of a teenage sister, but her facade is beginning to break. 

 It's only fair I provide her the answer, as much as I want to bury this night into my forgotten memories. I sit up straighter on the couch as if becoming more serious about it will make it easier to recount. I take in a long breath before beginning. 

I tell her everything. How Clay had offered to look after me while at the party, how the alpha came into the bathroom with me, how he had used his Alpha Voice on me, how Clay took punch after punch for me, and how we almost didn't make it home. 

I hate the way my voice starts to wobble as I retell the events of the bathroom. I hate that he still has some semblance of control over me, making me feel afraid just by thinking about him. It's disgusting– how someone can suddenly have so much power from such a short amount of time. 

Claire takes a moment to process the absurd amount of information I just dumped into her lap. She looks back out of the front window before speaking. 

"I can't say that I'm surprised– that Clay did all that for you. His heart is too big for his own good." She pauses again, taking in the streetlights' glow outside. "How are you feeling?" 

I blink in surprise. It's one of the last things I thought she would ask. I thought she would be more focused on her brother's health, but instead, she asked about me. 

"I'm...ok, I think. I haven't really processed it, I don't think. I was just so focused on making sure Clay was ok. I mean, I wasn't harmed in any way but I still feel–" 

"–Feel like his hands are touching every part of your body?" Claire finishes for me, her eyes drifting back from the windows to meet mine. 

What? 

"Yeah, it'll probably be gone by tomorrow, in case you were worried," she continues. She talks about this so calmly, so nonchalant about the whole thing. As if this experience that we both share isn't a horrific one. 

"So you're an omega? And you've gone through that? You're only sixteen... and someone..." My voice trails off as I try to process everything. She quickly corrects my assumptions. 

"Oh– no, it wasn't like that. It was an accident. But I still know the feeling, it's the same no matter the context. It's the same crawling sensation that is under your skin and you feel like if you just scratch hard enough you can get it to stop. Only it doesn't, no matter how deep you dig." Claire's tone gets bitter towards the end, her eyes narrowing at the rug below our feet. 

No one speaks after that. Neither of us is sure how to follow something so dark and so sad. 

There is a need for a subject change. Both of us can feel it, but neither one of us goes to break the silence. There is a question that I want to ask, but I know that it will only bring the mood down further. 

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