'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 |
Jolting awake, I opened my eyes, feeling immediate loneliness away from the arms that had once been wrapped around me as I had collapsed in the arms of the one true boy that had held my heart at arms length. Trying to move, I turned to my side, realizing that that boy, was asleep in the bed beside mine, his head on my shoulder, while he held my arm in both his hands.
Using the hand that hadn't gone numb, I brushed the curls that had fallen over his forehead, and brushed them, showing his face, doted with a few freckles. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was evening out too. A second ago, it had sped up a little, until my hand had touched his hair, making me more concerned for him, than myself.
I continued to trace my hand through his hair, as he pushed himself closer, pushing his nose into my arm. It was almost as if he was trying to mold himself into me. When a hand came down on the door handle, I turned towards it, which meant that I had removed my hand from the one that was in Wyatt's hair, causing a groan from him.
"Clara?" he murmured, holding onto me even tighter as someone entered the room, causing me to move my hand to hold his, squeezing it a few times. "'m here" I murmured, my voice croaky and cracking with how dry it was. He squeezed my hand, as I felt a few tears slip past his closed eyelids, making me roll over as slowly as I possibly could.
My head started to spin with the movement, but I just had to lay down. I had to lie down with him, and hold him. "I'm sorry" he murmured when I was finally lying back down, sweat dripping down my back from the pain the movement caused me. I put my head in his chest, as he put his head, gently, on top of mine. He clutched my hand even tighter, as I felt the tears leave my own closed eyes.
"It's not your fault, it's mine" I murmured into his chest, clutching his jumper with the free hand that I had. The other one was still in his, right were it felt like it should have been all along. It almost felt like after so long, that this was where I was supposed to be all along. Right in Wyatt's arms, but I knew that wasn't fair on Wyatt.
He was probably one of the boys that had all those private school girls waiting for their chance to get him. He was a football player too, so that made it even more cliche. I was proud of him, honestly, as he had come from a place like me, and he had pursued what he wanted with what he was given from the situation he had been forced into.
"No, it is my fault. I should have known the signs and seen it all. I always used to see it, but I was just so blinded this time, and I let you get to the point of being in a hospital bed, where they find out everything that has happened. The scars, the bruises, the broken bones, and the trauma that a person like you should have, but you don't, because you took it on the chin, never to the heart that you wore on your sleeve"
Never in my life, would I have thought that someone like Wyatt would ever say those words to me, leaving me starstruck. I didn't know what to say, or how to take what he had said. He had said it himself, that I was supposed to have trauma, as a normal person that had been in my situation, would have had trauma, but I think it was the fact that I had people to fall back onto, before I was ready to take charge.
