'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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| Third Person POV |
10 Years Ago
Small, tiny, little Clara was walking home from school and going to her dance class for the afternoon. She was carrying a tatted, old backpack on her back, which was most definitely far too big for the small girl, while she had a duffel bag on the side of her shoulder, which had its shoulder strap at the shortest length possible, which was still far too long for the small girl.
Clara did not care. She was just glad that she even had a bag, which was bought for her by one of her older brothers. It was the thought that mattered to the small girl, cause she always knew that most people didn't even give her a second thought.
Especially not her mother. As the small girl passed their usual café on the way, she instantly regretted looking into the window, at the small table beside the one that all of her brothers and sister would normally sit at, whenever they had the chance.
But this time, Clara never wanted to step foot into that café ever again with her older sister. Mackenzie, who was 10 years older than little Clara, having just turned 15 a few days ago, was now sitting at a table, with a bright smile on her face, while her mother sat across her, also adorning a bright smile.
A smile that Clara had never once seen on her face when her mother looked at her youngest daughter. It almost frightened the poor girl, never once imagining that such smile could cross her mother's face when she dared to look at one of them.
But Clara had always known that their mother had a very special spot for her first daughter, Mackenzie. They should have stopped after her, or just never had the rest of them, so that they wouldn't have to deal with the hatred of their mother all because they weren't like her prized possession, Mackenzie.
As Clara stood there, she bit back the tears that dared to fall down her cheeks, knowing that she couldn't cry. Not now, not ever. She was supposed to be fine, and if not, she would be fine. She had to be, and there was just no way that she could survive her mother without being fine with whatever happened.
That was how she become so careless. She didn't understand that it was okay to not be okay with what happened, but she just had to brush it off like it was some dirt on her tattered old jumper that was barely fitting her, but she never dared asked for another one, knowing it would hurt her more than anything.
Fast forward 5 years
Clara watched, from the same spot she had always sat on, with her feet dangling through the railings, as she watched her older sister, drive away. Her car packed to the full and never once glancing back, to see the little girl that had admired her at one point.
The two of them had been best of friends, well, up until Clara had turned 4. She hated her 4th birthday, as she hated nearly every single one of her birthdays, but her 4th to be specific. She had lost a sister and a mother that day, even including half of her father. He left fully a couple of days after her 6th birthday.
