Ch.3 Merry-Go-Round Spiraling Down

(DREW)

"I'll see you guys at home, hope it helps Clare," Adam says as we leave school Wednesday Afternoon.

"Thanks Adam," Clare says before she and I get into the van with Mom.

Mom is taking us to the hypnotherapists office, I'm going because Clare wanted me there. She slept in my bed Monday night and last night, with me there. If anyone even said anything that sounded vaguely like a suggestion she sleep alone she'd start to panic. Even in my bed with me she typically woke some time in the predawn hours with a nightmare, but at least she was getting some sleep.

My parents, Adam and I were still the only ones that knew why she needed to sleep in my bed with me. Everyone else thought she was just worried about her head injury. She took the bandage off yesterday, usually the bump was hidden by her hair. Her stitches were dissolving, her bump going down, her physical injuries were almost gone, the emotional and mental injuries were so much deeper.

I really hoped the hypnosis helped release everything she was keeping trapped. I knew it would be harder at first, but she needed to let it go because the fear was making her a ghost of herself. She barely held it together at school, no one aside from me and Adam seemed to notice. We knew she was holding it together only for appearances sake.

The hypnotherapist office is a nondescript small building between a strip mall and grocery store. A sign out front says the doctor's name, but that's all. The building itself looks like it was a small house at one point. When we go in a bell chimes, the lobby has blue carpet, a desk with a place to sign in, a fountain in one corner and two sofas. While Mom is signing Clare in another door opens. A woman a little older than Mom steps out, she's wearing brown slacks and a blue sweater. Her brown hair is half gray and she has it swept into a tight bun.

"Hello I'm Doctor Amelia Chase, you must be Clare," she says smiling sweetly at Clare.

"Yes, hello," Clare says nervously.

"I'm Audra Torres, this is my oldest son Drew. Clare is staying with us a few days," Mom explains. I'm sure she didn't need to explain all that, but of course felt the need to explain why we were here and not Clare's family.

"Nice to meet you all. You understand that this session may help you release memories however none of what happens here is admissible in court?" Dr. Chase asks.

"Yes, I understand," Clare nods.

"Good, please follow me Clare," Dr. Chase says.

"I'd like Drew to be with me, please?" Clare says. Her voice is steady, but the pleading tone is evident.

"Sure, that's fine, this way," Dr. Chase says ushering us through the door she came through. As we go in I see Mom sitting on the sofa and picking up a magazine. This room looks as you'd expect; a desk at one end with bookshelves lined with psychology books. Against one wall many file cabinets that house patient files. A window looks out to a calming pond and a garden. There's a leather sofa, a matching armchair and a rolling office chair. "Clare I'm going to have you lie on the sofa so that you're relaxed. Drew, you can stand at the end of the sofa, near Clare but please don't touch her or say anything to disrupt the session."

"Okay," I nod while Clare sits on the sofa and then lies down. Dr. Chase pulls the wheeled office chair over near the sofa.

"I'll be very clear with my instructions, I want you to hold my wrist. If you feel uncomfortable and you want to stop then squeeze my wrist, alright?" Dr. Chase asks.

"Okay," Clare nods. Dr. Chase holds her wrist out and Clare holds it but not very tight.

"Good, I'm here Clare and so is Drew, remember if you feel uncomfortable squeeze my wrist, but you are safe here. I'm going to count to ten slowly, with each number you will become more relaxed. When I get to ten you will be relaxed and listen to my commands," Dr. Chase instructs. She slowly counts to ten and I watch as Clare gets more and more relaxed. "I want you to keep breathing deep and picture an ocean, a calm ocean on a warm day, the warm sand, the sun on your skin and the waves crashing gently. It's calm and serene and so are you."

"I see it," Clare replies in a kind of dreamy sleepy voice.

"Okay, you are calm and serene and now we are going to go back to last week. You're at home and you're in the shower, tell me what you're doing, how does the water feel?" Dr. Chase questions.

"Washing my hair, the water is warm, soothing," Clare says exhaling.

"Good, now we're going to move forward a little, you are turning off the water and getting out of the shower, tell me what you're doing."

"Listening to the water drip as it turns off and wrapping a towel around myself. I open the shower curtain and step out of the shower," Clare is saying and she starts getting agitated. Her voice started out calm, but with each word is getting tighter. "I reach for my hair towel looking in the mirror," her voice is very thin now and laced with fear. "It's fogged up but there's a face," she says and her face contorts in fear.

She squeezes Dr. Chase's wrist a little, and Clare's voice is full of terror now. I want to tell her I'm here, tell her she's okay, to hold her, but the doctor told me not to interrupt the session. I'm also feeling sick. There was a face in her mirror, she was attacked, and the possibilities of who and why are making my stomach churn.

"Can you see them? Did you turn to look?" Dr. Chase questions.

"Yes," Clare says and her voice trembles her body rigid while she squeezes the therapists wrist.

"What happened when you turned around Clare?" Dr. Chase asks.

"What are you doing in my house? How did you get in here?" Clare shrieks. She seems to be more reliving the moment than answering the doctor's question.

"Who is in your house Clare?" Dr. Chase inquires.

"NO GET OUT, GET AWAY FROM ME," Clare screams in response squeezing hard on the therapists wrist. Clare is breathing hard and shaking, she's terrified by what she's reliving and I've seen enough.

"Bring her out of it," I growl at the therapist. I didn't necessarily mean to, but I don't like seeing Clare this way.

"Clare I'm going to count backwards from three and you will wake up," Dr. Chase says in a commanding tone, but I hear desperation in it, a sort of pain. Looking at her wrist I can see why, Clare is squeezing so hard the woman's skin is turning white, her hand turning blue from lack of blood getting to it. "Three, two, one," Dr. Chase says.

Clare's eyes shoot open, she looks at me and breaks into tears. I run over and help her sit up, hugging her to me and letting her sob on my chest. My shirt rapidly become soaked with tears and snot as Clare is nothing but a ball of hysterical fear and tears right now. Dr. Chase is rubbing her wrist but gets up and goes to the door. She calls my mom in, Clare is too hysterical to even notice.

"I guess it was successful," Mom says coming over.

"Yes, she clearly remembered someone in the washroom. Someone that attacked her, but she didn't get around to telling us who," I tell Mom.

"Can you get her to the van Drew?" Mom asks.

"Yeah," I nod.

I get my arms under Clare and pick her up. She gets her arms around my neck, but otherwise doesn't seem to notice. I get her out to the van, set her in back, buckle her seatbelt and she cries hysterically the whole time. Mom is in the office for several minutes and must be talking to Doctor Chase. I get into the backseat as well, to be as close as I can to Clare. When I get my arm around her she leans into me.

About halfway home Clare's crying stops, like turning off a faucet. She wipes her eyes but stays in my embrace. When we get home I help her out of the car and take her down to the basement. Adam is doing homework, but when he sees us he stops. I set Clare on the sofa between us and we hold her. Dallas comes home, sees us, knows something is wrong and has the good sense to not say anything. She isn't crying, but staring blankly at the TV which is off. I don't want to upset her again, but she needs to talk, to tell us who attacked her.

"Who did you see Clare? Who attacked you in your washroom?" I ask her cautiously.

She looks at her hands "Asher," she says pulling some tears again.

"You're fucking kidding me," Dallas comments.

"He was in your house?" Adam questions.

"Wasn't he your co-op boss last year?" I ask.

"Yeah, and he kissed her, and then tried to attack her in his car," Dallas informs me. I want to know how Dallas knows all this but figure I can ask him later.

"What happened Clare? What did Asher do?" I prod her. We need to know it all, even though I know it will be hard for her to say it.

"I asked what he was doing there, how he got in. I was just...stunned, sort of paralyzed over the fact that he was there and thinking it couldn't be real. He said I never should have pressed charges, that I should have kept my mouth shut and he was never going to let it go to trial. He moved toward me and I screamed for him to get away. I reached for my phone and called 911, he grabbed my towel and ripped it away. I said help into the phone and he pulled it away and hung up dropping it to the floor. He took a hand towel and put it around my face so it covered my nose and mouth, he was pulling it tighter and it was getting hard to breathe. I heard my phone ringing, but couldn't answer. I was sure he would kill me and I was struggling with him. I managed to kick him or knee him hard enough that he let go, I fell back and hit my head. The last thing I remember before blacking out is Asher hovering over me, he was hard to see and he whispered something to me I couldn't hear. I felt him on my skin and then it all went black and next thing I remember is waking up in the hospital."

Clare breaks into tears again, she curls up on the sofa, begins to tremble. Adam and I put our arms around Clare as she breaks down again. We watch her in stunned silence, not that she's crying but at what she just described. I'm thinking about Asher being in her washroom after her shower, by the looks on Dallas and Adam's faces I know they are too.

"I'm going to tell Audra and Omar, they need to know this," Dallas says and runs upstairs.

He's gone a while and all I can do is hold Clare and look helplessly at my brother while a multitude of thoughts run through my mind. How long before cops and the ambulance got there? If she hung up did they send someone right out or call back to see if it was a prank call? She said she heard the phone ringing again, that was probably the 911 operator calling back. Precious seconds without sending help, her alone with Asher while he did who knows what to her.

Asher could have been alone with her for anywhere from five minutes to twenty minutes. Can you rape someone in five minutes? Probably, I've jacked off in under two in the right circumstances. Clare just got out of the shower, naked, wet and if Asher is disturbed, and I think he is, the fact that he hurt her and she was unconscious could have turned him on more. She was already naked, he didn't need to undress her, didn't even need to undress himself. He could have raped her and run before first responders showed up.

Police weren't looking for an attacker, everyone said she fell, so they weren't looking for evidence of rape or attack. Did he rape her and then didn't have time to kill her before the police came? I hope he didn't, but thinking he tried to kill her and that's why she was unconscious so long isn't really a better thought.

"I don't feel so good," Clare says sniffling in her tears. Considering how much she's cried tonight I'm not surprised.

"Let's go lie down in my room," I tell her.

I stand up bringing her with me, Adam watches us go with this helpless look on his face. There isn't really anything he can do at the moment. I think he's worried about crowding her and doesn't want to come unless she asks for him. I think she just need to lie down, get some fluids in her too, but we'll start with lying down. When we pass the kitchen Dallas is talking with my parents, they glance at us but say nothing.

We get to my room, I close the door and we lie on my bed. We've never been this close, not lying in my bed. She's cuddled up to me, her head on my chest, my arms around her. She falls asleep that way, in my arms, it's the sleep of exhaustion but I don't want to move her. We didn't change or get under the covers, but I don't want to move and wake her up. When my phone dings in my pocket I fish it out to see a text from Adam.

Little Bro: Dad called Officer Turner and Mom called Simpson. The three of us will stay home from school tomorrow. Clare will have to give a statement to the cops and go to the hospital for a rape kit. They may ask us some questions too, but we're mostly staying home to be there for Clare.

I look at Clare sleeping in my arms, it's not peaceful though it's pure exhaustion. Her body and mind are drained and shut down forcing her to sleep. I'm not surprised at what's happening tomorrow but I know it's going to be tough on Clare.

Me: It's going to be hard on her to tell the cops and then a rape kit. She didn't say anything about getting raped.

I know before Adam replies, because I had the same thoughts, but still. A rape kit, so I've heard from girls in group, is traumatizing. I was hoping my timing was off, maybe the cops got there in two minutes.

Little Bro: Given her last memory and the amount of time before first responders showed he could have done almost anything to her. If he did rape her or even touch her though there may not be any evidence, that was a week ago.

Me: Yeah, this is not going to be good, she's going to go through all that and they may not find anything. How did Dallas know about Asher? I understand how you knew.

Little Bro: No idea, we can ask him tomorrow. Mom says dinner is ready.

Me: She's asleep and I don't want to leave her. Really not hungry anyway after that.

Little Bro: Yeah, me either. Get some rest, tomorrow is going to be a long day.

I brush some hair back from Clare's face thinking about how long tomorrow will be. I should be hungry, I should eat something, I should get ready for bed. Instead my eyes close and I fall asleep holding Clare.

(ADAM)

Mom, Drew and I sit in the hospital waiting for Clare, twice in a week. Last Thursday we here hoping Clare would wake up after getting a call she was in the emergency room. Now we're in the waiting room while Clare is getting a rape kit done. I couldn't sleep last night and looked up what it entailed, it sounded awful and I hated that my best friend was going through that right now.

Mom let us sleep in this morning, after Clare was awake and had attempted to eat breakfast we went to the police station. They took her statement but I don't know how much they believed her, and she was crying when she came out. The three of us also gave statements, not about what happened in her washroom as we weren't there, but about her behavior at the hospital and this last week. The cops did get pictures of her healing head injury and said the hospital would send over the results of the rape kit. I wanted evidence to put Asher away, but I hoped she hadn't been raped, though at this point even if she was there may not be evidence.

"We'll send all the pictures and the results to the police Miss Edwards," a doctor is saying as he escorts Clare out. She looks worse than this morning, she walks rigidly and shrinks away when the doctor tried to touch her shoulder. She's pale, and fighting back tears as hard as she can, I see her gnawing her lower lip to keep from crying.

"Let's get you home," Mom says while Drew and I hug Clare. "I can pick you three up some lunch," Mom offers after driving a couple blocks.

"I'm not hungry," Clare says barely above a whisper.

That's all the conversation for the entire car ride. When we get home Mom says she'll order us a pizza and Clare should try and eat. I don't think Clare heard her, but Drew and I nod. We go down to the basement and sit on the sofa. Clare isn't crying but she's still gnawing her lip, looking at her hands.

"Are you okay?" I ask just to break the silence. I know it was a stupid question and regret it as soon as it's out of my mouth.

"What if the cops don't believe me? What if they don't investigate?" Clare questions.

"They said they would investigate right? I mean they wouldn't have asked us all those questions or told you to go to the hospital for an exam if there wasn't going to be an investigation," I tell her trying to be comforting.

"Will it matter, there's no evidence is there?" She says her voice high with anxiety and stress.

"You don't know that Clare, they might find evidence that Asher was there," I tell her. I don't know how much I believe it myself, but I can't let her lose hope.

"My PTSD support group meets tonight and I think you should come with me Clare. I'll be with you the whole time," Drew says. He's using his calmest, most comforting voice, and laced it with compassion and care.

Clare looks down, gnawing her lip again, after a few seconds she nods. My brother's lips stretch into a relieved smile. I know the group has helped him, hopefully it helps her too. After several more minutes of silence I turn on the TV, we're watching but we're not. Mom brings the pizza when it comes, Drew and I eat but Clare doesn't, she doesn't even look at it. We stay in the basement all afternoon, Mom even lets us eat dinner down here, though Clare doesn't eat again. Mom made dinner early, I guess needing something to do. Dallas comes home while we're eating but doesn't ask how it went. After dinner Clare and Drew leave for the group. I tell Dallas what happened that morning and then go up to my room and call Jenna.

"How's Clare?" Jenna asks when she answers. When the three of us didn't go to school today Dallas told them why.

"I wish I knew. It was a very hard day for her, having to go through it all again when she gave her statement. Then go through a rape kit, one that probably won't produce any evidence because it's been a week. She's been crying or locked in her head all day. She went with Drew to the PTSD support group."

"It was bad enough when I thought she fell and hit her head while home alone. Thinking that Asher was there, that he broke in and got into the washroom while she was in the shower. It's terrifying Adam," Jenna says and I hear her shiver over the phone.

"I know, I hate it too, hate the thought of it, that she went through that. I'm glad she's here with us now. Grateful that Drew paid attention to her behavior and figured out she has PTSD. If he hadn't the memory would have eaten away at her as it sat in the back of her mind. I know it was hard, but at least she can face it now, we can do something."

"Will you be back in school tomorrow?" Jenna asks.

"Yeah, the three of us should be," I reply. I talk to Jenna for a while, only telling her goodnight when I hear Clare and Drew get home. I hang up with Jenna and go to Drew's room, they just got in and Clare's sitting on Drew's bed.

"How was group?" I question.

Clare shrugs.

"We'll both go back next week," Drew replies. This answer tells me she got something from it, enough to go back and that's good. I watch my best friend with a worried panic, it's like she's switched off, just a ghostly shell of herself. Drew puts his hand on my shoulder and I look at him. "I'll take care of her Adam," Drew assures me in a low voice, "I know some of what she's going through."

"Yeah, I know, and for the first time I'm grateful you went through that so you can be there for her. That you know what she needs and how she feels, because I feel kind of like I'm drowning and don't know how to help."

"Be there Adam, it's all you can give her right now. She'll be okay, it's gonna be a long hard road, but she's not alone on it."

I look at Clare again, smile at my brother gratefully and return to my room hoping I can sleep tonight.

(CLARE)

"What if Asher was never there and my mind just created it all?" I ask Drew. It's after midnight and we're lying in his bed. We got ready for bed almost an hour ago and have been lying here in silence since. I've spent the whole time thinking about the support group tonight.

"I don't think that's possible Clare. I don't think your mind could have created something for the hypnotherapist. You don't really believe that you didn't see Asher in the washroom, and your mind created it after the fall, do you?" Drew asks back. I'm not sure how tired he actually was but he sounds wide awake.

"I don't know, maybe after everything with Asher, then cancer, and the chemo and maintenance meds I'm cracking up. Maybe I just fell and hit my head getting out of the shower and my brain invented Asher being there since he's been on my mind with the case moving forward."

"Like I said, I doubt very much you could have fooled the hypnotherapist. I also don't think you could fake that kind of fear. I saw you the first night you were here, when you were going to shower, when I asked you about it. That's an instinctual reaction Clare, not acting. I saw you at the hypnotherapist, you were terrified Clare, screaming. Think about it, would you willingly let me in the washroom with you, with my eyes open as you shower if you weren't terrified? Or insist on me sleeping in the same bed with you?" Drew questions and I can't help the small laugh that comes from my lips.

"No, definitely not," I reply with a smile. The smile fades when I think of the alternative. "But that means Asher was in my house, my washroom, waiting for me, trying to kill me." I can't help breaking into tears at this thought, this reality. Asher was stalking me, like a predator, lied in wait for me at my most vulnerable, like a predator and attacked when I was defenseless, like a predator. I was someone's prey and he wanted me dead!

"He didn't succeed Clare, you fought back, you lived," Drew says rubbing my arm in a comforting way. I nod but a thought occurs to me, one that's just as terrifying and causes me to shiver.

"Who knows what else he did before the ambulance got there and I was unconscious."

"He won't get near you again Clare, we'll make sure of it," Drew assures me. His voice is soothing but strong and determined and I believe him. He's still stroking my arm, he moves forward a little closing most of the space between us. His thumb brushing the tears still trickling down my cheeks. "How come Dallas knows about Asher?" Drew asks after a moment of silence.

"After lying most of the way through my final project I trashed the poster board. I was angry, on the verge of tears, only Alli knew at that point. Dallas saw me trash the poster board and asked if I was okay. I told him no and he offered me a drink. I wasn't in the best state of mind and I followed him to the prop room. I got tipsy off one beer and told Dallas everything, I shouldn't have but I guess I needed to tell someone. I kicked off my shoes and Dallas took that as some kind of sign, he kissed me, I slapped him. I think I called him a pig and walked out, without my shoes. Anyway, that's how he knows and what led to our feud last year.

"I'll punch Dallas in the morning for kissing you while tipsy, and ruining your party. Although, I think Adam already punched him for that one," Drew says.

"Don't," I yawn, "he did apologize. I forgave him."

"Get some sleep," Drew whispers keeping his hand on my arm.

I concentrate on the feel of his hand on my arm. The warmth of it, the way his thumb moves just a bit, still rubbing my skin. The comfort and protective feeling of him holding me, even if it's just his hand on my arm. I fall asleep with these thoughts, and manage to sleep all night without a nightmare.

Drew and I wake to his arm alarm Friday morning and get ready for school. There's no Ice Hounds practice or game tonight so Dallas rides with us. I'm doing fine until we park at school and get out of the car. The realization that Asher was stalking me, that he could be here, watching me petrifies me and stops me from walking. The world seems to disappear it's just me in this bubble that I can't move from. and the possibility of Asher being anywhere around and watching me. I can't move, can't breathe, I can't see anyone else, all I see is places Asher could be watching me.

"You're safe, I got you," Drew whispers in my ear and puts his hand on my shoulder so I know I'm not alone.

His touch pops the bubble, I'm back with my friends, surrounded by them. Actually, they're all watching me, giving me worried looks. All but Drew who is just giving me a compassionate smile. I give them all a smile, I think it's a nervous one but they all smile back and we start walking into the school.

Alli and Jenna run over and hug me as soon as they see me. I'm nervous, but I make it through the day by concentrating really hard on what's happening in the moment and doing everything I can not to think about Asher. After school we have student council and I throw myself into it, Drew and I even stay late, at my behest, to get a start on next week. If I'm concentrating on work I'm not thinking about Asher. It's nearly five when we get back to the Torres house and as soon as I come in the door Mom runs over smothering me in a hug. I've been so preoccupied I didn't even remember they came home this morning.

"Oh Honey, I'm so sorry you went through that," Mom says stepping away from me and allowing the boys to come in the house. "Audra's been keeping us updated with everything and we spoke to the lawyer this afternoon," Mom comments and I nod absentmindedly. Truth is that I wasn't thinking about my parents coming back, it feels sort of surreal that she's actually here. "Why don't you get your stuff packed and we'll go home," Mom says in a bright voice.

When Mom says "go home" my heart rate speeds up, my chest constrains and my breathing becomes tight, my body shaking. The thought of going back there, back to where Asher came after me. Where he tried to kill me, where he preyed on me, did any number of things to me before police and EMTs came. The thought of even seeing my house, let alone setting foot inside it again is petrifying.

"No, no," I whimper backing up into Drew, "not home," I squeak turning to Drew and gripping tightly to his shirt. He's my lifeline, my security blanket and right now the jaws of life couldn't pry me off him.