'Dysfunctional: not operating normally or properly'
That was one way to describe Clara Campbells family. Dysfunctional; not operating properly. That was just what happened when your older siblings leave you.
Or that's what Clara had always believed...
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| Clara Campbell |
I awoke, my shoulders hurting, as I could feel the cramps in my hand and feet, as they were tucked underneath me. I was on the ground, but I couldn't feel the hardwood floor beneath me, making me sit up. Oh boy, I was going to kill myself for what was happening right in front of my stupid eyes.
I had fallen asleep in the arms of Greyson, the only person that could ever comfort me whenever I was having panic attacks; everyone knew that, even Hazel. "No, no, no" I murmured, as I saw how tight his arms were wrapped around me.
This most definitely could not happen. No one could see this, no one could know this had happened, not even Greyson himself. They just couldn't know that I had gone soft for a second too long.
I heard a knock on the door, making me sit up even higher, which was the worst idea possible, as Greyson stirred from below me. He had always reminded me as a little kid, that he was never a deep sleeper, so that I could always go to him, which I did, but in this moment, I really wished that he wasn't such a light sleeper.
This was one of the times that I wished it was anyone else below me, even Colton, who could just be someone that slept through a fucking tornado, not someone who could wake up by a sudden movement.
"What is going on?" Greyson muttered, as he rubbed his eyes. That was when I noticed not only the tattoo that was covering a scar, but what he was wearing. He was wearing the USA Army uniform. The same one that I had seen on the person that I thought was him. This was not good at all.
Everything hit me in that moment; how my siblings knew to come here, to the place where we had all grown up. It all made sense now. Nothing was a coincidence anymore or a stupid little fake lie. They had come here because Greyson had known that I was still here, many years later. But why hadn't he come here, when he was alone, all those years ago?
It didn't matter in this moment. What did matter, was getting the hell out of this position that I had found myself in. I went to move away, but Greyson clearly knew my next move; it had always been what I had done when I felt uncomfortable, was to run away from the situation.
"Clar, stay for a minuet. We need to talk" we most definitely did not need to talk about anything, especially the revelation that I had just made in my head, that was daring to slip from the tip of my tongue if I stayed an extra second longer.
"Unlike you, I have to places to be and people to see, that involves none of you" and with that, his arms disappeared, as I stood up. One thing that I had always been warned about with my anxiety was that I would usually feel disorientated after my panic attacks, so when I stood up, everything around me blurred. This clearly caught Greyson's attention.
"Clara, just stop running from me for a second. Let me talk to you, like old times" the last three words was what motivated me to continue. I grabbed the bag that was half empty, stuffing a final few things in, before I flung my body out the window.
