I didn't want to do this. What will Valentine say when he finds out someone else knows? He'll beat me again. That's what would happen. But there was a nagging voice saying that if someone knows, it would help. I listened to that voice this time and dropped the towel.
A gasp came from the nurse's mouth.
"Oh Clarissa."
…
What she saw may have made other people look away. Some stare in pity. Others may have freaked out.
My body was covered with bruises; some fresh, some older. My body's skin color was purple, blue, black, and green. My ribs jutted out from where I was too hurt too eat. The bags under my eyes had been washed of the make-up and no longer concealed the nights spent nursing my wounds and crying when no one could hear me.
"Clarissa, you do know that I'm going to have to tell someone about this, right?"
Hesitantly I nodded my head.
"The way you hold your left arm, does it hurt?" Again, I nodded my head.
"What happened to that arm?" At this, I drew the line. I bit my lip and the nurse must have saw my expression of hurt and struggle.
"it's okay, why don't you cover up again and sit down. I have to write some things down." So I did and wondered what would happen.
Will I have to go back to Valentine after this? Will this show up in court? What was I thinking, all I've done is make it worse.
A thousand thoughts and questions ran through my head, not stopping for an answer.
After the nurse finished what she was writing on her clipboard, she turned to me again. We proceeded with the checkup.
After I was done, I got dressed and opened the door, only to see my mother waiting for me.
"Hey Clary, let's take a walk." My heart constricted in my chest. That's what Valentine said when he got bored with the living room floor. But this was my mother. And? What do you know about her? She hasn't been in your life for 14 years now. How can you trust her?
She must have seen my internal battle, because she let a small, sad smile appear on her face.
"It's ok, you can trust me. I'm not like Valentine."
Are you? Because I spent 14 years dealing with his rage with no one but my brother to help me. Then even he stopped caring. You let him abuse me for 14 years until you did anything about it. How does that make you any less of a person than Valentine is? You may not hit me, but how am I ever supposed to love a woman who just stood by and let this happen? Different crime, but I still hate both of you.
That's what I wanted to say. All the thoughts I conceived during my aloneness came bubbling to the surface and seemed very tempting to say at the present time.
But I didn't.
Instead, I muttered a quiet "ok" and started to walk with her.
"Clary, I saw your reports." I felt like someone had pressed a 'fear' button in me. "Clary, bruises all over? The looks of a slightly dislocated shoulder? Why did you lie in the courts?"
"Because I knew Valentine would beat me if I said anything different." This was the first time I was openly talking about the abuse.
"And why doesn't Jonathon seem to have many marks?" I didn't answer this question.
"Clary, I'm taking this to court tomorrow. Valentine will be arrested for child abuse and you and Jon can come and live with me." Jon living with me still? I knew what would happen. He would take on Valentine's role.
My thoughts were cut off by a figure appearing in front of us.
"Clarissa. What took you so long? We've been looking for you, and you kept us waiting." That's when Valentine noticed Jocelyn beside me.
"You aren't taking her." Jocelyn said. "I know what you do to her." Valentine shot me a venomous look.
"It isn't your business what I do to her and what I don't do to her. For the time being, you forget she still is my daughter. Under my custody."
"You will not hurt her anymore. Just admit what you've done and save yourself the humility of a public arrest."
Valentine leaned in close to her ear.
"I wouldn't do that. We wouldn't want to cause any trouble would we? You know what I can fully do." At this, Jocelyn shuddered and took a slight step backwards.
Valentine gripped my wrist so tightly I knew there would be bruises in the morning. He pulled me away quickly and I stumbled, causing him to turn around and raise his hand. I flinched and turned my head, expecting the sharp pain of his slap, but it never came.
I timidly opened my eyes and Valentine had dropped his hand. I realized this was only because we were in a court house. He pulled me stiffly to the car and practically threw me into the backseat. Jonathon was already in the front seat.
Tonight, nothing was my best friend.
For once, my father and brother said nothing to me. For once, no hits came to me as soon as the door closed behind us. Instead, Valentine took me by the hair and dragged me stumbling to the basement. He threw me on the ground and said, thankfully, nothing. He just stomped back up in rage and slammed the door. I heard the comforting sound of the lock clicking, knowing no one came down after that lock clicked. For the first time in 14 years, there were no harsh words or hits that night. It may not have been the perfect life, but it was better than my normal life.
I fell asleep with my head resting on the pile of old, dusty, torn baby clothes I slept on when he locked me down here, which was most nights.
I woke up to noises upstairs. Crashes, yelling. Oh, how I hated yelling. I listened in fear; wondering if my father was on a drunken rage again. Something hit the door-hard. Then it was lifted. The door handle rattled, shaking with someone trying to get down there. It rattled harder and harder until I heard the telltale clicking of the lock being picked. I sat paralyzed. The door opened and a bulky figure stood in the doorway.
"Clarissa? Clarissa Morgenstern? Are you down there?" It was a deep voice. "I'm going to turn the lights on." I barely had enough time to dash behind boxes before the dim lights flickered on.
Steps down the stairs. Rustling around the boxes near me. All the sudden, a face was in front of my curled up form. Olive skin, blue eyes, black hair.
"Clarissa, it's ok, I'm a police officer. We've taken your father. He's not going to touch you again."
A part of me rejoiced. It circled around and threw confetti in the air and rejoiced for all it was worth. But then the other part was asking unanswered questions again.
How can I trust him? What if my father escapes? He'll come straight to me, and kill me. That thought chilled me to the bone.
"It's ok, we've come to take you and your brother to the court house. You can stay there for the rest of tonight, and then go home with your mother tomorrow once the papers are all filled out."
I shakily stood up and took the officer's hand.
"I'm Officer Robert Lightwood."
"C-Clary."
"Come on, you should get as much rest as you can, you'll have a long day tomorrow."
