NIGHTMARE

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CLARA'S POV

Night had fallen, casting a dark veil over the city as Anna bid me farewell and left my apartment. Exhausted and longing for a respite from the day’s events, I sought solace in the comfort of a warm bath, letting the hot water wash away and soothe the remnants of my stress.

When I got out, I dressed in warm pink pajamas and retreated to my bedroom, seeking refuge in the warm, comforting familiarity of my bed.

Lying there, I stared up at the ceiling, counting the cracks and imperfections as if they held the answers to my troubles. Sleep rarely came easily to me, and tonight was no exception.

The weight of the day lingered in my mind, refusing to loosen its grip. Minutes turned into an eternity as I wrestled with my restless thoughts, longing for the embrace of sleep.

Growing weary of the fruitless pursuit of slumber, I sat up, leaning against the sturdy wooden headboard. A deep sigh of exasperation escaped my lips, the manifestation of the fatigue that permeated my being.

It was in this moment, amidst the quiet solitude of my room, that my phone screen illuminated with the familiar caller ID- Mom.

I answered it quickly.

“Hi, Mom,” I greeted, a mixture of weariness and relief in my voice.

“I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep again?” she asked with a hint of concern.

“Hmm,” I replied, not wanting to dwell on the long, sleepless nights that plagued me.

Mom sighed.

“How about you stay with us now? You can’t just declare your independence one morning and then leave,” she pleaded, her worry palpable.

I groaned, putting a hand on my forehead in exasperation.

“Mom, we’ve discussed this before,” I replied, my tone laced with a sense of determination. “I’ll be alright. James is here to protect….”

She let out a sound of disgust, interrupting my sentence.

“Are you still dating him? I told you I don’t trust him,” she interjected, her voice tinged with skepticism.

“Mom, come on. James is a nice guy,” I tried to convince her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of my words.

A few short moments later, she sighed in defeat.

“Okay, fine. I trust you. But please don’t get hurt. You know your Mama won’t be happy if that happens,” she said, her love and concern shining through.

“I know,” I reassured her, gratitude and guilt welling up within me.

“Good. Now, how was the interview you went to?” she inquired, attempting to divert the conversation to a more positive topic.

“It was fine.” I masked my true feelings behind a facade.

I could hear her smiling when she replied to me.

“I trust my daughter. Now, how’s Anna?”

“Ma, we’re all fine,” I replied, trying to make her less worried. “How’s Pa, Dan, and Zach?” My desire to know every detail of their life evident in my voice.

It wasn’t long before she responded.

“They’re fine.” Her statement offered the comfort of routine.

“You should go to sleep.” Her voice softened with her suggestion, a subtle hint of concern lacing her words.

A pang of fear gripped my heart as she made that suggestion. I didn’t want to sleep, nor did I want the call to end just yet. It had been a while since I had last spoken to her.

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