Ch. 2 You're in Ruins

(DREW)

Clare is trembling with terror in my arms, clinging to me desperately, tears crawling down her cheeks. I hold her, stroking her back so she knows I'm here, that she's safe. Now though I'm sure that I didn't imagine last night.

"What's wrong?" I ask her.

"I can't, I can't be in there alone, h...h…the mirror...the steam..." she's trying to say something but can't get the words out.

I have no more doubts now that she was attacked, that something more than just falling and hitting her head happened in her washroom. I think she's trying to tell me she saw someone in the mirror when she got out of the shower at her house. Now, being back in a washroom filled with steam she's afraid of seeing the attacker in the mirror again. This is definitely PTSD, and either she's afraid to talk or she's repressed the memories.

"It's okay Clare, you're safe here," I assure her. She closes her eyes tight and takes a deep breath to calm down so she can speak.

"Will you stay in the washroom while I shower?" She pleads with me.

"You want me in the washroom with you?" I query. I know she's scared but is she really asking me to be in the washroom with her? With her in the shower? Naked! Wet! Just the two of us alone in the washroom?

"Please," she begs desperately clinging to me even tighter as if afraid to let go.

"Umm, okay sure," I nod because I know she needs me. She lets go of me but keeps hold of my hand pulling me to the washroom. The water is hot, the washroom steamy, Clare is in nothing but my bathrobe. She's about to take that off and get in the shower, I'm starting to get bad thoughts.

"I'll just sit here," I remark sitting on the side of the tub, turning my back, and looking at the wall as she unties the sash on my robe. I'm trying really hard to keep my back turned and eyes closed, especially with the possibilities of what she's gone through. However, when I hear my robe hit the floor and my brain knows there's a sexy naked girl next to me, my eyes open on their own. I get a peek of Clare as she steps into the shower and closes the frosted glass door, then my eyes close again. I hear Clare in the shower and scold myself for peeking, making sure to turn my back to her and keep my eyes shut tight. Of course, with nothing else to do, because my eyes are shut, my mind can't help but think of her naked body.

"Drew?" She questions in a worried voice.

"Yeah?"

"Are your eyes closed?" She questions.

I shut them tighter thinking she's worried about me seeing her in the shower. 'Yep, shut tight I swear."

"Could they not be?" She asks and I swear I'm hallucinating, that my brain is hearing what it wants to hear.

"You want me to open my eyes? Our shower has a glass door, frosted but still," I point out. Surely, she's not truly asking me to watch her in the shower.

"Please Drew? I need you to make sure no one else comes in," she pleads and her voice trembles with fear, "just look at the door."

"Okay, I'm opening my eyes and looking at the door. No one will get in here I promise you," I assure her. This only solidifies my theory that she was attacked by a currently unknown assailant in her washroom.

"Thanks Drew."

"No problem," I reply, slowly opening my eyes. I turn to face the door as much as I can, watching to be sure no one comes in. I can see a little of her in the shower in the mirror. Even with it fogged over this isn't helping the visions in my head of her being naked. It feels like an eternity of torture sitting here with my eyes open, visions of naked Clare in my mind, catching glimpses of her naked in the mirror.

Finally, I hear the shower turn off and, in the mirror, see the door open and Clare reach for her towel. She hasn't asked me to close my eyes yet, so I keep them open but focused on the door. Which takes a lot of will power, because a slight shift of my head, or even my eyes would have rewarded me with the sight of Clare drying off. Even with my eyes trained on the door I see a lot from the corner of my eye. When she's dried and dressed she opens the washroom door and I follow her out.

"I'm hungry, I'm going to get dressed and make a sandwich for lunch," I tell Clare when we're both in my room.

"I'm a little hungry too," she says.

She busies herself in her suitcase and isn't leaving my room, so I grab some jeans and change out of my pajama pants. I think she doesn't want to be away from me, well, not me specifically, just not alone. She was attacked when she was alone.

We go down to the kitchen, make lunch and take it to the basement turning the TV on. I scarf down my sandwich while she eats slowly. After eating we take care of our dishes and then return to the basement watching TV. Clare is silent, but not sullen, she doesn't even seem skittish or scared. If I stand up though she looks at me with fear in her eyes, even though she doesn't say anything. When I get up to use the washroom, she almost jumps off the sofa.

"I'm just going to use the washroom, the one down here," I tell her.

"Okay," she nods. She's biting her lip and glancing at the basement door. I go over, lock the basement door, and draw the curtains.

"I'll be right there," I tell her pointing to the washroom. She nods again slowly lowering herself to the sofa. I use the washroom, come out and see the glint of relief in her eye when she sees me. I sit down next to her again and we continue watching TV, but she's slowly sinking into the sofa, her eyes get heavy and then shoot open again. When she yawns I decide she needs to sleep. "You should take a nap," I assert. She responds by shaking her head and sitting straight up with her eyes wide open. "Come on, I see that you're tired. I could use a nap too, we can go up to my room, I promise I'll stay with you," I insist. Not getting any sleep is not helping either of us.

"You will?" She asks with pleading, hopeful eyes. You know the eyes of sad little forest creatures in animated movies, those are her eyes right now.

"Yeah, come on let's go get some rest," I reply standing up and taking her hand, so she has no choice. We go up to my room, lying on my bed just as we did last night. We're close enough to feel the other's breath and body heat, but not touching. She's asleep after a few minutes, and as soon as she's asleep I let myself sleep.

(CLARE)

My terrified, horrified scream jolts me and Drew from sleep. When my eyes lock onto his and I know it was just a dream my breathing slowly begins to find a normal pace again. I'm not crying, but I am shaking, Drew looks unsure if he should touch me, he's keeping his distance, but his eyes stay on mine.

"You want to talk about the nightmare?" Drew asks when I'm breathing normally again.

"I just remember feeling like I wasn't safe, and someone was trying to kill me, but I couldn't see them," I tell him, sitting up and wrapping my arms around my knees. Without even realizing it some tears begin trickling down my cheeks.

"You're safe Clare, I promise you're safe," he assures me rubbing my back in gentle circles. I want so badly to lean into him, to have him wrap his arms around me, but I resist. I do feel safe with Drew, in fact since waking up in the hospital the safest I've felt (aside from with everyone) is alone with Drew.

"I know, thanks Drew," I reply wiping my tears and turning to smile at him.

"We should get downstairs, my parents will be home soon, but Dallas and Adam probably won't be back until late," Drew comments.

We get up, fix our hair and clothes, and go down to the basement turning the TV on once again. I'm not really watching, TV just staring at it, hardly registering at all what's happening in the show he has on. I'm having trouble shaking the nightmare, only I don't remember the nightmare, not really. Of course, maybe that's why I'm having trouble trying to shake it. Maybe my mind is trying to remember, but I can't and it's making me feel anxious. I do feel safe with Drew, but there's little he can do to protect me from the phantoms of a dream I can't even remember.

All I can remember from the dream is not feeling safe, feeling someone was with me and wanted to kill me. Suddenly, I remember the other night, in my washroom, getting out of the shower. Looking into the mirror, it was fogged over but there was a figure in it, a face! I can't see the face clearly, but the eyes, the eyes are narrowed at me in malice and animosity. I've stopped breathing without realizing it and now I'm breathing shallow and sharp. I start trembling, I can't stop, I can't speak, I can't even cry.

"Clare," Drew says firmly but gently, "breathe Clare, slow deep breaths. You're safe okay? I have you, it's just you and me here. Breathe Clare, look at me, slow deep breaths or you're going to pass out."

Whether it's Drew's words, or the fact that he's holding my face in his hands or all of it, he gets through to me. I stop breathing for a second, holding the breath in my lungs and forcing it out slowly. I bring in another breath, slow, a little deeper this time, hold it and out. I do this several times and finally my heart stops pounding, my breathing is regular, I'm no longer spinning or anxious. When I let out a final deep breath Drew releases my face.

"Okay now?" He asks.

I bite my lip and nod slowly, "Thanks."

"It was a panic attack, I've seen others, I've had a few. No big deal, but what threw you into it?"

"I…I was trying to remember the dream," I tell him. I'm not sure why I can't bring myself to tell him about the face in the mirror. Maybe because I'm not convinced it's real yet, it seems too fantastic to think someone was waiting for me in my washroom. It sounds like the beginning of one of those slasher flicks I hate. Not to mention that no one else has said anything about me being attacked, I fell, so maybe it's just a result of hitting my head. Maybe there was no face and my brain created something around the fall and waking up in the hospital.

Drew gives me a sympathetic smile and we settle back in to watching TV in silence. This time though I focus purely on the TV show, I don't let any other thought into my mind. Not long after calming down from my panic attack Audra and Omar return. They brought home take-out for dinner and the four of us eat in the dining room. After dinner Drew and I return to the basement, we watch TV and movies until Dallas and Adam get home a few minutes before curfew. As soon as Audra knows the boys are home, she goes to bed. The four of us stay up, Adam and Dallas watching the rest of the movie with us. Just before two in the morning when the movie is over, we decide to go to bed. Drew follows Adam and I upstairs to get ready for bed.

"Will you stay with me again tonight? In the bed," I request of Drew. Adam is in the washroom with the water running, Drew and I are in his room. He only came to get pajama pants, but I need him here with me again.

"Yeah, of course," Drew replies with a soft smile. It's a smile that forces a relieved and grateful smile from me. We get ready for bed; Adam goes into his room saying goodnight and when Adam's door is closed Drew comes into his room. We get into bed, lying on our sides, tonight I move a little closer to him. If it bothers him, he doesn't say anything, he smiles at me sleepily and closes his eyes. I on the other hand lie there, unable to sleep and begin making a study of Drew's face in the moonlight. He must know I'm staring at him because one of his eyes opens to look at me.

"I can't sleep," I confess.

"No problem, I have stories that can bore you to sleep," Drew grins. He begins telling me all about basketball, one game in particular at his old school. He gets very detailed and technical and I find my eyes closing, and soon I'm drifting into a peaceful and content slumber.

(DREW)

I'm in a wonderful deep sleep, in a wonderful dream about being on the basketball court again. Cheerleaders cheering my name, my parents and Adam watching me with proud smiles from the stands. I'm suddenly jolted awake from the dream when Clare bolts up in bed, a scream strangles in her throat, her breathing hard and fast. Her heart is pounding so hard and fast that I can hear it, and she's shaking, trembling from fear or crying or both.

"It was just a dream Clare, it's okay, you're safe," I assure her as I sit up and put my arm around her. She doesn't respond but does seem to relax a little at my touch. "You want to talk about it?"

"All I remember is this shadowed figure trying to kill me, to smother me in its darkness," she says sniffling in her tears. She's doing her best to calm down, but she's still trembling and breathing pretty hard.

"Nothing is here, it's just us and I won't let anyone, or anything try to kill you. Let's get back to sleep," I insist pulling her to lie down again.

I take my arm from around her, but stay close to her, facing her so she knows I'm here. It's still dark outside, and I think we were only asleep for an hour or two at most. After some time, Clare falls asleep, and then I do as well. It's light and restless though, I'm aware of every little movement and breath from Clare. I have no lingering doubts any longer, she is definitely suffering from PTSD.

When I hear my parents leaving their room I wake up. I get out of bed slowly, so as not to wake Clare, grabbing a t-shirt and slipping it on. I leave my room as Adam is leaving his and he gives me a look.

"She wanted me to sleep in there in again. I need to talk to you guys, downstairs," I tell him in a whisper. He follows me downstairs where our parents are getting the coffee on. "I need to talk to you guys," I inform my parents.

"What is it son?" Dad asks as we all sit at the table.

"Clare has PTSD, I'm sure of it, I've seen all the signs, I've had most of them," I comment.

"PTSD from a fall?" Mom asks, her tone clearly says she doesn't believe this.

"I don't think she fell; I think she was attacked. I think someone else was in the washroom with her and they attacked her and that's why she called 911. The way she's scared to be alone, needs me to be in the same room with her when she's sleeping. The fact that she can hardly sleep, she's had nightmares the past two nights about some unseen person trying to kill her. She's nervous and afraid, that's not typical of a head injury, but I have seen it all before. From girls in my support group that were attacked, most of them raped," I tell them, and my brother goes visibly pale. I leave out the fact that she needed me in the room while she showered.

"You think she was raped?" Adam asks barely able to get the words out.

"I don't know Adam, I'm only telling you what I see in her I've seen in girls in my group," I tell him. I wish I could comfort him somehow, but I can't, not with this.

"But why wouldn't she say she was attacked? She should have just told us at the hospital," Mom comments.

"I think she tried, but I also don't think she remembers, not entirely anyway. That might be the head injury, or it could be repressed memories. She wants to remember or tries but she can't. It's self-preservation in a way," I tell them.

"So, what do we do?" Adam inquires.

"I know some of the people in my support group have had luck recalling repressed memories through hypnosis," I reply.

"Couldn't that make it worse though? If she remembers everything? What if she was raped? You said repressing the memories was a way of self-preservation, so what if remembering sends her into a mental breakdown?" Adam asks, firing off the questions rapidly as he's worried about his best friend.

"We won't know unless she remembers and right now, she can't. Right now, the memories are buried, and she's paralyzed with fear from a phantom, a fear without a name or face. She can't face it until she knows what happened, she can't take action until she knows what happened, and who attacked her," I respond.

"I want to do it," Clare says appearing from the stairs. I wonder how long she was listening. I'm sure she woke up soon after I left the room, she probably heard most of the talk. "I need to know," Clare says resolutely.

"Okay, I'll call the administrator of Drew's support group later. I'm sure he knows someone reputable, we'll set up an appointment for as soon as possible," Mom tells her.

With that settled Mom starts making breakfast, while Dad pours coffee into his travel mug meaning he has to work today. Dad says goodbye as he leaves, Adam and I help Mom with breakfast. I can tell she's feeling the need to do something because she makes a large breakfast of potatoes, eggs, bacon, and fruit. Clare barely eats, Mom barely eats, but Adam and I eat a lot. When Dallas wakes up, he'll finish what's left. After breakfast Mom shoos us down to the basement, she's not having us clean up or telling Adam and I to get our chores done. Probably because of Clare, either because she's here or what she went through.

"Please don't tell anyone else I was attacked, not yet," Clare requests quietly when Adam has the TV on.

"Sure Clare," Adam nods.

"We won't tell anyone else until you're ready," I assure her.

She smiles at us and we settle in to watch a movie. Dallas wakes up about halfway through the movie. He goes upstairs, gets breakfast, and comes back to the basement. No one really gets dressed and we spend all day in the basement, either watching TV or Dallas, Adam and I playing video games. It's a very lazy Sunday. Clare is pretty quiet all day, but as long as she's with all of us she's not skittish or scared. Dad is home for dinner, and we all eat together. Mom mentions that Chad, the administrator of my PTSD group, gave her the name of a respected hypnotherapist, but the office won't be open until tomorrow. Dallas has the good sense not to ask what she's talking about, though he probably assumes that it's for Adam or me. After dinner the four of us return to the basement to watch TV, at ten Mom comes down the stairs until she's fully visible.

"Adam, Clare time to come upstairs, time for bed," Mom says.

"Can Drew sleep with me again? Please? We just sleep," Clare begs but she's also kind of shaking. I feel Dallas' eyes on me, guess he didn't know we shared a bed the last couple of nights.

"I'm sorry Clare, I wasn't thinking, it's fine for Drew to be in the room with you," Mom says and goes upstairs.

"You two have both been sleeping in Drew's room?" Dallas questions.

"I'll explain later, come on let's go get ready for bed," I comment quickly before Dallas can ask any further questions.

(CLARE)

"We should get up and get ready for school," Drew says looking at his phone. It's a little before six, I woke us both up after a nightmare some time ago. Neither of us got back to sleep, we've just been lying here.

I nod and get up going to my suitcase, I pull out clothes. I hear Drew in his dresser getting out clothes too. When I have decided what I want to wear today I stand up and take off my pajama top.

"Should I leave or turn my back?" Drew asks.

"No, just get dressed, I don't care if you see me getting dressed just don't leave me alone," I tell him. I really don't care, and I'm aware that he probably saw some things when I made him stay in the washroom while I showered.

I finally hear him shedding his clothes, I'm a bit tempted to look, but concentrate getting dressed myself. When I'm fully dressed, I turn to look at him and see that he is also fully dressed. We leave his room and go into the washroom together to finish getting ready. Having shared a washroom with Jake I don't mind sharing with Drew, not even when Adam joins us to do his hair. When we get to the kitchen Dallas is already at the table eating. After breakfast the four of us take two cars to school, Dallas drives himself since he has Ice Hounds practice after school. Drew drives the car he shares with Adam, and both Adam and I ride with Drew. They park next to each other at DeGrassi, we get out of the cars and start walking for the entrance. I'm feeling exposed now though, unsettled and my steps begin to slow as I look around frantically.

"It's okay," Drew whispers in my ear taking my arm, "you're safe."

I smile at him and we make it into the school, not without a few looks our way, however. I attribute this to the clearly visible bandage still on my forehead. We visit our lockers, which are all in the same hallway, which is where Alli and Jenna find us. I know Adam and Dallas told them yesterday that I fell in my washroom and was staying at the Torres house a few days.

"Clare," Alli grins hugging me tightly, "we're so glad to see you."

"We didn't know if you'd be in school today. How's your head? Are you okay?" Jenna questions.

"I'm fine," I reply painting a smile on my lips.

Alli and Jenna resume chattering, I'm used to this by now and while I'm listening I'm also kind of tuning it out. I'm not paying much attention but when the group moves I move with them, and we walk to homeroom without me even realizing it. We all have the same homeroom class, business leadership: management. Mr. Perino teaches it and I feel his gaze on me as soon as I sit down.

"It's good to see you back in class Clare, how's your head?" Mr. Perino asks.

"Fine," I reply touching the bandage on my forehead instinctually.

"Good, I'll give you until the end of the week to turn in the work from Friday," Perino tells me.

I nod as Luke comes into class and sits at his desk next to Dallas. Luke came at the beginning of last year with the other Ice Hounds. He's billeted with Liam again, but went home to Florida for the summer.

"Hey Clare, good to see you back," Luke smiles.

"Thanks," I smile back.

"Looks like a nasty bump, does it hurt?" Luke questions.

"Not too much now," I reply.

Luke smiles but Mr. Perino starts class so the conversation ends. I make it through the day, but I feel like a ghost in some ways. I'm present enough to pay attention and know what's going on, but my mind is continually thinking back to Thursday night. Replaying what I can remember, trying to see the face in the mirror. Inevitably this puts me into the state for a panic attack. Drew and/or Adam are in all of my classes and manage to pull me back before the panic sets in. I don't eat lunch, I have no appetite and Drew cuts student council short. After student council we all walk to The Dot. We get coffee and snacks and sit down. Just as we're finishing our coffee Owen comes in. He must be here to pick up Tristan as he now goes to U of T and we rarely see him around DeGrassi any longer.

"Hey Drew," Owen greets him, vaguely nods to the rest of us, and then notices the bandage on my head. "What happened to Clare's head?"

"She hit it, spent the night in the hospital and with her parents out of town she's staying with us a few days," Drew explains just as Dallas, Luke and the other Ice Hounds come in.

"Hey guys," Owen greets them.

"Hey college boy," Dallas says. Owen and the Ice Hounds go up and order coffee, as each of them gets coffee they come sit or hover around our table.

"So, if Clare's sleeping at your place where's she sleeping?" Owen questions.

"She's sleeping in Drew's bed, with him," Dallas says. He keeps his voice relatively low but everyone at or around our table hears him. Owen starts choking on the sip of coffee he just took. He does it so much coffee comes from his nose and we all start laughing.

"We should get home," Drew says before anyone can start asking questions. Drew, Adam and I all get up and quickly leave the café. I'm sure Dallas isn't far behind us seeing as he's expected at the house for dinner. The three of us get to their car and Drew drives us home. The image of Owen with coffee coming from his nose keeps a smile on my lips all the way to the house.

"Oh good, you're home," Audra smiles when we come in. "Clare, I made an appointment on Wednesday for the hypnotherapist. Right after school, so you'll have to miss student council."

"Will you come with me?" I ask Drew. I can't explain it, but I need him there, I want him with me.

"If you want me there I'll be there," Drew says. He flashes me that smile, that gentle, genial smile that says "don't worry, I got you," that has made so many girls swoon. I'm not swooning, I need him, the way I need him to sleep in the bed with me, to watch the door when I shower.

"I do."

"We'll hold student council at lunch, and I'll come with you and Mom," Drew says.

"Thanks."

"Alright, that's settled, you kids wash up and set the table," Audra says.

Dallas arrives home just a few minutes before Omar. We all eat together and then us kids go down to the basement. Homework is only mildly distracting, the TV is also on and that too is mildly distracting. After homework we continue watching TV, Adam goes upstairs first to shower. I know he's going up there alone and I start to panic. I want to call out to him, tell him not to, that it's not safe. Logically I know it is, that my unknown attacker is not lying in wait for Adam. I manage not to call out to Adam, but the panic is causing an inferno inside me, my heart pounding and I grab Drew's arm. It's the only thing I can seem to manage, but it conveys to him that I'm not okay.

"Adam's fine," Drew whispers to me, "no one else is in the washroom. Do you want to go up to my room?"

I can't find words, but manage to nod just a little.

"We're going to get ready for bed," Drew informs Dallas.

"Night," Dallas shrugs. He seems to be totally unaware of my panic and I'm glad for that.

Drew and I stand, he takes my arm, keeping hold of me all the way to his room. His parents were on the sofa, and either didn't notice us or knew why Drew was helping me upstairs. We get to his room and he sets me on his bed, and now I lose it. As if I was keeping it together for the sake of Dallas, Audra and Omar, and now that we're alone I unravel. Sitting on Drew's bed, pulling my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around them. I'm shaking, sobbing, my heart pounds, I can't seem to breathe.

"It's okay Clare, Adam is fine," Drew assures me.

I can't answer, just shake and sob in a tight ball.

"Clare look at me, talk to me," Drew urges softly.

"I'm sorry," I sob, "I don't know what's wrong with me. Adam said he was going to shower and this burning panic erupted inside me. I wanted to call to him, tell him not to go, even though logically I knew no one was waiting in the washroom. Once it started I couldn't get it to stop, and when we were alone I just came apart." I'm babbling neurotically, I know it but can't stop that either.

"It's okay," Drew says putting his arm around me and pulling me to him, "it's the PTSD. Sometimes you feel like you're losing your mind. Like the whole world is spinning in this out of control merry-go-round and you're the only one having trouble holding on."

"Will it ever stop?"

"It will, with time. If the hypnosis works and you're able to remember that will probably help too. It'll be hard, freeing those memories, giving your attacker a face, but that's better than a faceless phantom. At least I would think," Drew comments.

"Yeah, putting a face on my fear has to be better. I hope the hypnosis works."