This chapter took a long time than expected to be posted but something came up in my life that took all my attention. Anyways...

Warning: Nothing graphic, but there's a brief mention of child molestation.

Besides that, here's the next chapter. Happy reading :)

Chapter Two: Hypochondria

"I'm afraid I can't explain myself, sir. Because I am not myself, you see?"
― Lewis Carroll

"Blue moon
Now I'm no longer alone
Without a dream in my heart
Without a love of my own

Blue moon
You knew just what I was there for
You heard me saying a prayer for
Someone I really could care for

And then they suddenly appeared before me
The only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper
Please adore me
And when I looked
The moon had turned to gold"

For the past day, she hummed the song over and over again, just focusing on it, blocking everything else. But everytime she paused, her mind no longer focused and she would get overwhelmed with the sudden noises. Covering her ears and humming the tune as loudly as she could was what she did. It made her look crazy but it helped. She felt calm and wasn't in pain.

Unfortunately, Clara had to stop her meditation, it was Monday, meaning she was being forced to go back to her tedious routine. Clara closed her eyes tightly at the loud noises that were coming downstairs.

Why was everybody so loud in the morning? Why wouldn't Sister Karen quiet down those obnoxious girls that wouldn't stop giggling? Why was Kevin tapping his foot so loudly? Why were May's knees making so much noise when she moved? Why was the clock ticking too quickly for her liking? Why was she even hearing all those things? Why? Why?

It's not real. It's just in your head.

That's what she had been telling herself every hour. She didn't know which one was better; what was going onto be real or that it was all happening in her head.

"Clara," Caitlin timidly called out from behind her. She cringed at how loud she sounded. "Are you going to get breakfast?"

She exhaled deeply and slowly opened her eyes. The brightness made her squint but she was more focus on the noise. She tried to only focus on one sound, Caitlin's breathing. After a few seconds, she felt the noise become muffled but still present, and she relaxed. Reluctant, Clara sat up and pulled the covers.

"What did you say again?" She picked up her hair, that was still damp from the shower that she had taken that morning, a suggestion from May, saying that it would calm her down and soothe her nerves. It worked in her brief time under the scalding hot water but the moment she stepped out, everything slammed into her.

"Are you going to get breakfast?" her friend repeated herself.

"Right. Yes, I'm going." She turned around to face her three roommates, all change into their school uniforms and prepared to go down for breakfast. They were waiting for her to get ready.

Caitlin glanced at Naomi helplessly, who shrugged, not offering help. "Um, alright. We're going right now so why don't you with us?"

Clara only hummed in response and picked up her wrinkled shirt and put it on, buttoning it up slowly. Her fingers fumbled with the last button and decided to leave like that, her legs cold. She moved over to the other side of the bed and slipped on her plaid skirt, tucking in her shirt. She sat down and finished putting on her long socks and shoes.

"Well... aren't you going to get up?" asked May tentatively. "We're kind of hungry and we might not get any good food."

"Don't worry I will." But made no effort to move. She felt like she was glued to the spot. She was going to have to go out and face the world when the last thirty hours she had spent it either in this room or in the bathroom. She didn't know what to do or what to feel.

"Then get up," snapped Naomi impatiently, stepping up and glaring at Clara. "Stop, whatever you're doing. You're kinda pathetic."

"Naomi," May hissed, pinching her arm. "What is wrong with you?"

"Well I'm sorry," Naomi huffed in annoyance. "She's being difficult and you know I'm not very patient. Why is she acting like that? She's always an oddball but not like this. What the hell is wrong with her?"

"Naomi," Caitlin said sharply, smacking her arm. "Why are you being insensitive? She is freaking—"

"No she's right," Clara interrupted her. She got up from her bed and faced her three roommates, that were looking at her cautiously, afraid that any second she would have a meltdown. "I need to get over whatever is going on with me. It's normal. I'm acting out for something that isn't that big deal."

Naomi looked thrown off by her sudden change of attitude. "Jeez Clara," she said. "You're going to give us a whiplash one of these days."

"You were just complaining for me to get up," Clara pointed out. "That's what I did."

Naomi made an exasperated noise. "Whatever, I'm going to breakfast. You give me a fucking headache." She stomped away, making Clara crack a smile at her childish attitude.

May looked at Clara and gave her an encouraging smile. "I'm glad you seem okay Clara." She turned around and followed Naomi, leaving Clara alone with Caitlin.

"I'm glad you're feeling better. I was worried," admitted Caitlin bashfully.

"I'm sorry about yesterday morning. I had no idea what came to me. I think it was a nightmare."

To her relief, only her roommates had heard her scream. They weren't that loud, according to Caitlin. After her meltdown, Clara stayed in the bed of the rest of the day, claiming that she felt ill and no one bothered her for the rest, giving her enough time to calm down and rest.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, just... a lot in my mind. More than I can handle."

"Penny for your thoughts?" She grinned at her, taking a seat on one of the beds and patted the empty spot next to her. Both girls always had the policy to be honest which each other and they tried the hardest. But Clara, deep down in her gut, knew that what she experienced was to be kept to herself.

"Maybe another time."

Caitlin's smile fell. "Are you sure?"

"I'm really hungry and—"

"No, I get it." She stopped her, but her face was pinched into an uncomfortable expression. "You don't want to talk. And I'm kind of hungry too."

"Are you mad?" Clara asked hesitantly, and Caitlin shook her head but she knew that she was lying.

The tension wasn't obvious but it was there and as both girls went downstairs, Clara could feel the resentment radiating from Caitlin. When they reached the dining room, Clara was overwhelmed by the noises and stopped, trying to stop herself from covering her ears. When she had gotten closer downstairs, she had managed to block it but now being there, she had difficulty regain her senses.

A voice among the clattering of the cups, forks scraping the plates, children chewing, the voice of Ron stood out. Everything that she heard from the previous day, came to her and it made her rethink of what she heard. She needed to find out what she heard was real, if not it would drive her more insane than she already felt.

"Clara?" Caitlin nudged her.

"I'm going to sit with Ron today."

"Why?"

"Because I need to—ask him something." Her short hesitation, made Caitlin look at her knowingly.

"You can do better but go get him," she whispered and nudged her towards the empty seat next to Ron. Clara grimaced at the knowing look she was receiving from her.

"I wasn't going to get him but I do know I can do better." Slowly, she trudged towards him and sat down next to him and sighed when she saw how horrendously he was eating his food. "Hey, Ron."

"Hey, Clara, missed you yesterday," he grinned at her, mouth full of oatmeal flying out. She moved her seat from him and took a plate in front of her. "Toast?"

He shoved the plate to her face, forcing her to take a step back. She wrinkled her nose when she saw that it was soggy.

"That's disgusting Ron." She pushed him away from her. "What happened to it?"

"Jonathan spilled milk on it," he explained. "Shoved me and made me drop my milk."

"And you thought it would be a good idea to give it to me? Why Ron?"

He shrugged. "I was just being polite. You looked hungry."

"And thanks to you, now I'm not," she muttered.

"It doesn't taste bad, actually." To prove his point, Ron took a bite and made exaggerated noises of pleasure. "Hmm—so good. So, so good. Look what you're missing."

She cringed, trying to not throw up. "Stop it, Ron. You're so disgusting."

He laughed and grabbed another piece of toast. He smeared jam all over it and showed it into his mouth. She glanced longingly at where he friends were sitting, eating like normal people. Remembering why she bothered sitting next to Ron, she decided to take the opportunity to ask him what she needed to know.

"Ron?" He made a noise to show that he was listening. "When you were in the basement cleaning the other day... did you break something in by any chance?"

His reaction made her stomach fall. He looked at her in panic and she could hear a loud noise echoing in her ears. His heart beat. "No. Did you see something broken?"

"Maybe." Clara tilted her head and could hear his heart hammered loudly against his chest, making her realize that he was scared. "You did broke something."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. I know you're lying."

"How did you find out?" Ron hissed, leaning in and his nose brushed her cheek. "Me and Jonathan hid the shelf."

She leaned away slightly. "Well, not that good."

"What were you doing down in the basement so early?" he asked suspiciously.

"That's none of your business," she said sharply, tugging on her skirt nervously, feeling like he could hear her heartbeat. But he couldn't because he wasn't crazy.

Ron looked at her doubtfully. "Are you going to tell one of the Sisters?"

Clara looked at him, offended that she would do that. "If I was, I would have told them already."

"But that would be lying. You don't lie."

No, trust me, I do lie. "Not unless they ask me. I will simply not be saying anything. Lying is not telling the truth. This isn't lying so I'm fine."

He still looked unsettled but begrudgingly accepted the fact that she wouldn't say anything. Clara felt a hot breath and realized she was still leaning into Ron and pulled away immediately. She cleared her throat and grabbed a toast, shoving it in her mouth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the flash of disappointment in his eyes.

She looked towards her friends and saw May grinning at her widely, giving her a knowing wink. She nudged Caitlin who looked over them and grinned at her. She closed her eyes, realizing what they were thinking.

"Clara," Ron said. "Toast?" He was giving her a new one, that wasn't soggy. This time, she gratefully took it and took a bite from the toast, forgetting about the one she had on her plate. She gave him a smile with a mouthful of food.

"Hm-hm. Delicious. Disgusting but delicious."

"You're weird right now," he commented, pulling away from her. "Which isn't yourself."

"You're right," she agreed and finished eating her toast. "If I wasn't acting weird, I would have taken a shower in the afternoon, and I would be sitting over there with my friends and be eating cereal."

"Breakfast is over. Hurry up," Karen shouted and that sent everybody into a flurry of actions, rushing to their regular routine.

Go to their rooms, and get their backpacks. Be downstairs in less than five minutes or else stay behind with the Sister Karen. Everybody walked to school together and when they reached the school, everybody dispersed and went their own way.

Clara successfully had avoided Caitlin in the morning chaos and walked beside May, who chattered the entire way about how Naomi had stolen her brush and refused to admit she lost it. When May had left her to at the steps from the school entrance, she got hounded by an annoyed Caitlin.

The fact that school was the noisiest place had completely slipped off the mind from Clara. The moment she had stepped into the building all she wanted was walk out and run away. Sucking in a deep breath, she took a step inside and headed to her first class. She subtly scratched her temple, feeling like her head was about to explode.

Laughter, feet pounding the stairs, chewing gum, perfume being sprayed, screaming, the swishing noise of skirts, scratching of pencils. That was all she could hear. And amidst of all those explosives noises, Clara heard Caitlin's rough voice.

"... Clara! Clara!"

"Don't say it." Clara took long strides from to avoid being next to her bane of her existence. She felt grateful at the moment for having long legs and Caitlin being short.

"But why not? Come on Clara! You're just being a rude right now. Just say that—"

"No Caitlin," Clara said firmly, stopping in the middle of the school hallway and turning around to face her. "Don't say anything. About Ron or even the weather. I'm not in the mood. I have a pounding headache."

"But I'm your best friend and as your best friend, I have to state that there is something going on with a boy. Especially if the boy is Ron."

"No, there isn't. Nothing is going on." She started walking again with Caitlin hot on her heels.

"Ron is nice, you know. Not attractive but there could be something."

"No. No there can't."

"Why not?" whined Caitlin. "I don't care anymore if it's Ron. He's a boy and could grow on you. This is the first time a guy has found interest in you. You're a catch. A foxy catch. With those brown eyes and silky hair. Tell me why you think that nothing can happen? "

"Jeez, Caitlin, is there something you want to tell me? Do I need to switch rooms?"

"No," she yelped. "I mean, that's what probably Ron see's about you. Are you playing hard to get? Just tell me why nothing can happen? "

Clara sighed and slowed down her speed. She glanced at a hopeful Caitlin and said, "Because I have a lot going on. And I don't have time for something that isn't happening."

"What do you have going on? Church? Praying more? Reading the bibles in different languages?"

"Why do you think my life revolves around church? I actually am—" Clara stopped herself and cleared her throat. "I just have a lot, alright? Drop it."

The bell rang, making her sigh in relief. That had to stop Caitlin from nagging her. "Class. Let's go. We're going to be late! I hate being late."

"Because you don't want to keep Ron waiting," she said slyly.

"I don't like Ron," she repeated firmly. Clara knew she didn't like him but Caitlin was always fantasizing happy endings. Believing that they would get away from the orphanage, get a nice parent, and get married. Clara was an optimistic person but she knew when to realize the ugly truth, unlike Caitlin. But if she was happy with believing Clara liked Ron than she would sacrifice herself. There were more important things to worry about.

October 1955

The days passed tediously slow and then proceeded to torturous weeks. Instead of things improving as time passed, they seemed to go from bad to worse. Her once patient and kind personality shifted to an irrational and angry one. Anything out of the ordinary made her paranoid, waiting for the worse.

Nothing did happen. But she could hear everything. To even the smallest noise that came from outside, she could hear. It was overwhelming at times, all the noises hitting her at once. One time, it became too much, she skipped class and spend it the entire time, crouched in the bathroom stall floor, covering her ears, trying helplessly to drown out of all the noises.

Clara had come to the conclusion that she had hallucinated the whole thing. That's what happened. She had gone to the library and went on a hunt to search for an answer and found it.

She had hysteria. That was the only logical explanation, besides witchcraft. It was the fifties, not the eighteen hundred. Although hysteria wasn't common anymore in the now modern times, people were still wary of those women who started reacting erratically. And Clara's entire personality since the previous day had been nothing but erratic.

Schizophrenia

Borderline Personality Disorder

Conversion Disorder

Anxiety Attacks

She could have one of those conditions, and she couldn't figure out which one was worse. All of them made her crazy. All of them would lead to her being sent to an asylum. All of them would get her to undergo a lobotomy or electric shock or both.

The voices of Ron and Jonathan could be the voices inside of her head but Ron disproved it in the morning. Schizophrenia is out.

Her erraticness could be a sign of conversion disorder but her body wasn't experiencing any changes. Conversion disorder is out.

"That can't be," she muttered in denial at another disorder that she couldn't have. "Nothing. I have none of this. Oh my God! What if I have all of them and I am too far gone to even notice? I'm dead."

She rubbed her temples, not being able to read anymore. It was too much. Exhaling in frustration, she slammed shut the book and put it back in its place. It was after school and she had gone straight to the school library in search for answers and the only thing that she had found was more stress.

"What about... dementia?" she muttered, her eyes skimming the new disease. "Or...?"

That was how she spent the rest of the hour, looking through diseases that are the reason why she was going crazy. The only interruption she got was when Ron and Johnathan were fooling around and bumped into her, making her hit her back against the edge of the shelf. The pain had been unbearable and she had to lay down for a few seconds, to compose herself. She knew that was going to have a huge bruise after a few days.

She had dozed off halfway but woke up with a start when she felt like she was on fire. Like she could feel her clothes getting charred and the pungent smell of skin burning. When she patted herself, she saw that her body was intact, no signs of being engulfed by flames. She exhaled shakily, not liking how slowly she was deteriorating. In the end, when Caitlin had had found her on the floor, sleeping and then proceeded to pick her up by the arm, Clara had about fifty different diseases and disorders, some of them that she had never heard off.

"Hypochondria," she mumbled, half-conscious and the other part far away, still thinking about every disease she could have. "I have some of them..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Caitlin looked at her strangely.

"Watch it," she slurred, slowly waking up from her tired haze. She waved her hand to Caitlin's direction. "This earth might be hell, our hell and the actual hell is empty, or something like that, but still watch it."

"God, even when you're sleepy, you're preaching about stuff like that."

"You sound like Naomi," Clara grumbled.

"I thought you weren't allowed to read those morbid plays anymore?"

"I have my ways." She looked around the shelves looking for more books that can help but there wasn't a variety to choose from. She already read two of the six books that were available in their limited school library.

"Good Catholic Clara Welsh sinning, what a freaking miracle. You look terrible by the way," Caitlin grinned teasingly. "Like really bad."

"Shut up, Naomi."

Caitlin rolled her eyes. "What did you say earlier? Hypo-something? Do you have that?"

"Hypochondria." Clara sighed and got up and started taking the leftover books from the shelves. She was only allowed to take two at the time. "I don't know if I have it. Here take these two."

Caitlin grabbed them and examined them, not understanding their foreign titles. "What is that?"

"Thinking I have all the diseases in the world, but apparently I don't. But I have something I just know it." She marched up to the registration desk and sign out all the books that she got. Caitlin did the same thing and followed her out of the library and into the school hallway.

"What do you have now?"

"I don't know but I am going to find out." She patted the books that she was holding over her chest. Clara started taking longer strides. She turned around and started walking backward, so she could face Caitlin when they talked. "But I'm leaning to hypochondria. Or what's the opposite of having every possible disease and phobia?"

"Maybe all you have is stressed," suggested Caitlin helpfully. "Did you seriously spend an entire two hours in the library, looking for what was wrong with you?"

"Yes. And it was wasted. But hopefully, these books will help."

"Is that all you're going to do? Read?" Caitlin asked. "I thought we could sit outside and talk. We haven't done that in a long time, almost a week actually."

"Can't. I already have plans."

"Let me guess," Caitlin said flatly. "It includes reading or being alone."

Clara gave her a friendly smile. "I'm sorry Cait but maybe later. This is really important."

"That's what you always say," Caitlin said wearily and shoved the other two books in her arms, that was her way of ending the conversation. Clara struggled fitting all the books in her arms, turned around and started walking forward. She wasn't really bothered by Caitlin's cold respond. She didn't like being neglected and would never understand what she was doing. What all Clara was more interested getting home fast so that she could eat and proceed her reading.

After eating and reading for three and a half hours, Clara decided it was time to call it a day and went to the bathroom to take a shower, and prepare herself for bed. Naomi had decided to join her, being lazy earlier in the afternoon to join the other girls.

Clara stripped down her clothes and glanced at the mirror behind her shoulder to take a good look at her back. She grimaced when she saw a splotchy bruise, the one she got in the library. She sighed in resignation, it looked like she was sleeping to her side that night.

While in the shower, Clara contemplated, taking her time. The water was freezing cold, all of the hot water gone. That's what she got for being one of the lasts ones to take a shower. She could hear Naomi talk, her voice as background noise. The only thing she could focus on was what the books she read and what could be a tree.

That's what she did. When she didn't know something, she would look for the answer until she found it. It made her act different, her friends commenting how she changed and when she got the answer, she would become same old Clara. But she was determined person and giving up had never been an option.

"Colonists believed to cure an individual it was necessary to undergo cathartic medical treatment and to either catalyze crisis or expel crisis from the individual." Under her breath, Clara recited from memory a passage she read over hundred times. "Medical procedures involved submerging patients in an ice bath until they lost consciousness or executing a massive shock to the brain." She took a deep breath and turned off the water. "Thank God this isn't the 18th century."

"This is gross," complained Naomi, oblivious that Clara wasn't paying attention, and got out of the shower and wrapping her body in a towel. "Like, I'm going to throw up gross."

"I agree but at least we have the showers to ourselves," Clara pointed out, and already dressed. She was waiting for Naomi per her request.

"Still gross. I thought with the boys getting their showers fixed, the stalls would be cleaner but it looks like girls are gross too. Really disgusting..."

"And unhygienic," added Clara. "Why is there a sock in the shower?"

"I hate this orphanage," Naomi muttered and then snapped her fingers. She had already changed into her nightgown and was brushing her hair. "I bet it's June's, she's a germaphobe."

"No—ah," Clara screamed as she desperately tried to cling to something but failed. She had started walking to one of the shower stalls to retrieve her soap when she stepped on something slippery and fell back to the hard, cold tile. She groaned in pain when her back had hit the floor.

"Oh my God! Clara! Are you alright?" Naomi ran to her and went on her knees to pick her up. "What happen?"

"What do you think?" groaned Clara, moving around, feeling her lower back seize up in pain. "I fell."

Naomi looked around. "Shit, you feel on a fucking panties. Seriously, what is wrong with these girls? Here, let me help you."

"No—wait," Clara groaned. "I can't feel it."

"Did it hurt that bad?"

"No—I..." she sighed, feeling defeated and tried to clumsily get up, rejecting Naomi's help. She fell back, this time on her butt. She only flinched at the hard sensation and was relieved that she couldn't feel the same aching sensation from before. "I have a bruise on my back. I got in the library when I hit my back. It hurts so much now."

"Ah, shit. What luck you got. Let me help you, you're going to fall again." Clara reluctantly let Naomi help. When she was up on her feet, she blinked when all of the sudden the pain disappeared as it had come. She pushed Naomi away and get up quickly.

"Clara, careful!"

She ignored her and walked around in circles, feeling a similar hysteria take over her, the one she felt when she woke up in the morning or the one when her hand was bare and uninjured. Her breathing was heavy and her mind frazzled, making her feel like she was dying.

"Clara? Are you alright?"

She ignored Naomi's confused protest and went in front of the mirror. She took off her shirt frantically and turn around, trying to see if she had something. And sure enough, there was a faint purple mark in the back of her shoulder.

"It was bigger," she whispered in disbelief. She made a frustrated noise when the reflection of the mirror got blurry because of the steam. She wiped the steam of the window with, trying to keep it clean, and took another look at her back. It was completely gone. "No. No. No!"

"Clara what is wrong?" Naomi demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders. Clara looked at her friend as if just noticing her—as if she hadn't been standing there for the entire time to watch her meltdown.

"I had a bruise," she simply said, as it would explain everything.

"A bruise?" Naomi repeated blankly.

"A big, purple one. In the middle of my back. It hurt so bad that I cried when I move my shoulder."

Naomi hesitantly looked at her bare back. "There isn't anything there."

"Exactly." Clara had jabbed her finger to Naomi's face. "I had a bruise and it's not there! Where is it?"

"Maybe you thought you did," Naomi suggested carefully. "You can't really see over your shoulder."

"So you think I imagined it?" Clara demanded, her voice getting shrill. "That it was all in my head? That everything that is happening to me, it's just because of my nerves?"

"I'm not saying that. You might get a bruise because you fell on the floor. Wait, is that what you meant? That you're going to get a bruise. I think it takes longer for it to appear—"

"No," Clara interrupted her. "I meant I already had one. Don't assume things. Listen to what I am saying."

Naomi looked at her with a mixture of fear and confusion. "It's just that maybe—"

"I'm not crazy," she hissed, stepping towards her and getting to Naomi's personal space.

"But you are acting crazy."

Clara blinked, realizing how close they were. She took a step back and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm not crazy."

"Then what's wrong with you Clara?" Naomi shook her head. "I wish I could say that I've never seen you act like this but you've been acting very cra—very strange lately."

"You don't understand," she said quietly.

Naomi rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Come on Clara, I'm not Caitlin but I am your friend, and I'm going to be honest. I'm not going to butter things up like Caitlin or be optimistic that there's a pot of gold on the other side of the rainbow like May, I'm just going to be brutally honest."

"I don't care what you have to say. Get the hell out!" She pointed to her door, feeling anger pulsing through her veins.

"No. Not until I tell you that you have been acting like a moping, crazy, and slightly mentally deranged bitch. I don't know why or what caused you to be like that, but you need to cut it the hell out. It's pissing everyone off and no one deserves to deal with your problems."

I know, but you will never understand what happened to me.

"Get out!" Clara said, pointing at the door. "Out!" You're making me angry and I do stupid stuff when I'm angry. And I have a headache for how loud the boys are being downstairs.

"I'm trying to help you, Clara!" Naomi glared at her.

"Help?" she scoffed in frustration. "You're not helping. You're making everything worse, actually. I'm super paranoid right now, and angry, so angry all the time, and all I'm waiting for is for something horrible to happen to me. And you reminding me of what I already know, is making it worse. So stop 'helping me'."

"I don't get you." Naomi looked at her in utter frustration. "I never got you Clara. The sick child that always had to be care of. That made you be apart from the rest of the children, 'special' that's what I overheard the nuns say. "Have to keep an eye on her, she's special". I was still a kid when you came here but I didn't want you near me. You were this little strange child that never shared their problems and always pushed people away, despite everybody praising her for being so kind, so helpful, so devoted to your fucking religion."

"Fuck you, Naomi, you piece of shit," Clara snapped.

She didn't see it coming. The loud noise of Naomi's hand striking her cheek, made Clara snapped out of the anger she felt. But she couldn't stop herself from trembling in rage and clenched her fists, trying to desperately hold on to her sanity. One last glare, Naomi turned on her heel and stormed off the bathroom, leaving Clara alone, just like she wanted.

She slammed her fist against the counter, emitting a pain through her hand but she didn't care. The damage was already done. She walked out of the bathrooms and headed to her room. Naomi was already in bed when Clara reached the room. She wanted to backed out when she saw the disappointed looks from May and Caitlin. She opened her mouth and closed it, trying to defend what she did but stopped herself. There wasn't an excuse to what both of them said.

"She started it," she said lamely and when she didn't get a respond, shrugged. "Goodnight."

Clara fell to her bed, feeling exhausted and ready to go to sleep but what all she wanted to do was pray until a miracle happened. But unfortunately for her, miracles didn't seem to happen. Only disasters and tragedies.

Out of all of the four roommates, Naomi was always the last one to get up. Clara was always the first one, so they never really crossed each other paths in the mornings. And that worked out of them. Clara had waited impatiently, in her school uniform and a toast in her hand, for Naomi wake up.

"Jesus," Naomi mumbled when the first thing she saw was Clara looming over.

"Don't say His name," she said and stopped when she saw the look of bewilderment. "Sorry... wait, about that but I am sorry."

Naomi squinted at her and realized what she was actually apologizing about. She saw the sincerity in her eyes and then nodded slowly, reluctantly accepting her apology.

"I-if we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness," Clara recited from memory. "That—that is what I keep telling myself these days but I don't think he would forgive me. I have done too much. Like yesterday, you were right. I was out of line. I knew and I chose to ignore it. I'm the piece of shit, not you."

Naomi sighed heavily and sat up and scooted to the side, to give Clara space for her to sit next to her. "He will. It's you Clara, you're a good person. You out of everybody, knows that he will forgive you. The best person, that's you. You never forget to pray and actually enjoy praying. You always volunteer to help the nuns. You believe in redemption and love and equality."

Then why is this happening to me? Good people don't get to be like this.

"I'm sorry," Clara repeated.

"It's fine." Naomi waved her off. "You shouldn't be asking for forgiveness, you weren't the one who slapped me. I shouldn't have said those things. It was rude."

"But you meant them. You have no filter in your mouth, you say what pops into your head, I appreciate that. And from the looks of it, you have been keeping that yourself for a really long time. I didn't know you hated me," Clara said quietly. "I thought we were friends."

"We are," Naomi said and sighed, rubbing her face in aggravation. "I meant when we were kids I didn't like you and now that we're older, I know you and you are all those things. Kind, caring, devoted. I was just jealous of all the attention you were receiving but then I realize that it was because you got sick all the time."

"It wasn't because of that," she mumbled incoherently.

Naomi squinted. "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

Naomi grunted. "Come on Clara. We're talking fine and I'm being honest. You should be too."

"I was molested," Clara blurted out, making Naomi looked at her in horror. She cringed at her expression, already knowing what was going through her head. Pity. Fear.

"I'm so—"

"That's what the nuns were talking about," Clara interrupted, not wanting to hear her empty apologies, "when I was transferred here. Treat me with care. Try not to upset me. She's 'special.' That's what they said, right in front of me, as if I couldn't hear them. I was a little bent, not broken. But they couldn't see that."

"I'm so sorry," whispered Naomi. There it is, the empty apology. "Gosh, I'm such an idiot. I always put my foot in my mouth. Here, I hated you for the first year and that happened to you."

"I don't really remember much," Clara lied, picking her nails. "It happened a long time ago."

"Wow." Naomi took a deep breath and sat down next to her. "Wow. I mean wow."

Naomi reached over and touched her shoulder in a comforting manner and Clara gave her a forced smile. She regretted now telling Naomi about herself.

"Can I ask you something?" Clara nodded, seeing that they were being honest now. "Does anybody know about your molestation?" she whispered the last word really quietly.

"Besides the nuns, Caitlin knows that I had problems in my previous orphanage but not what exactly what. You're the first person I have ever told about that. I could also say I've told God, but you'll just scoffed at my stupidity at telling a fictional being."

"Why are you telling me then?" Naomi asked skeptically. "For pity? Because—"

"Not for pity," Clara snapped, feeling agitated at how Naomi was being. "But because you were honest with me and I'm going to be the same.

Naomi nodded thoughtfully and spoke up after a few seconds later, her voice curious and cautious. "And... you don't remember anything? You said you don't remember much. So you must remember some at least. I'm not asking you tell me what happened but... how do you move on from something so horrible?"

Clara shifted her body to face her. "Remember that you said that I'm so devoted to religion?" she said in a mocking voice, repeating Naomi's earlier voice.

"I'm sorry," Naomi cringed. "But yes. What about it?"

"Well, let's just say, there's a reason why I am so devoted to religion. I heard that religion makes someone feel better and it turns out it does. I feel whole when I have God with me. Some people don't but I do, and that's all that matter. Like Sister Karen said, there's a silver lining to everything. And for my molestation—" Clara didn't miss Naomi cringing at the word. It made her smile at her immaturity. "—it made me discover religion."

"A silver lining for something bad," Naomi said, wrinkling her nose. "Look at that."

"Yep, a silver lining. And want to know something else? That no one knows. Not even Sister Karen or Rosemary. They know nothing about it." Naomi nodded, looking at Clara curiously and eagerly. "Sister Karen was the one who suggested for me to pray. And want to know something? I hated praying. So, so much, I thought it was boring and pointless. That it wasn't going to make me feel better."

"So that's it? You weren't always that good catholic girl?" Naomi stifled a laugh.

Clara shot her a dirty look. "But despite my hatred towards it, I continued, by Sister Karen's order. In hopes to feel better, more whole and it didn't. But I continued. Even to this day, I still don't feel exactly better. Maybe because I'm still young and don't grasp the whole religion thing."

"Then why be so faithful?" she butted in again. "You're wasting your time by praying for something that you don't even know that exist."

"Because it's the only thing that I have that hasn't changed. It will never change. I'm changing. You're changing. And one day everything will change and you won't be able to do anything. But the religion part, the scripts and everything else, it's not going to change. That's why I'm devoted. It helps me feel stable and all my life nothing has been stable. It makes me stable."

"It makes you unrealistic," she said flatly.

"Maybe it does but I feel good and that's all that I care about. I feel like I'm a better person. That what happen to me when I was a kid, when I was being—" She took a deep breath and gave Naomi a shaky smile. "I didn't deserve it. I was a kid. But now, I am devoted and happy. That's all that matters."

Clara leaned in and hugged her trying to show her, how much she regretted her actions. Maybe if Naomi forgive her, the Lord would forgive her. Naomi hugged her back but let go of her quickly.

"I have to go. I made a mess down the kitchen yesterday and Sister Karen is making me clean up today's breakfast."

"I'll see you later."

"Yeah, later." Naomi had reached the door and her hand was on the handle when she turned around. "Uh, I don't really remember right now, but there is like a verse that Sister Rosemary makes me everytime I say a curse word, which is all the time, and it's about letting others forgive you and you will be able to forgive yourself. And you can move on or something like that."

"Are you sure that's a real?" Clara said doubtfully. "I know every line of the Bible by heart and I don't remember that."

"Maybe, maybe not." Naomi shrugged. "It probably does exist. The thing is, forgive yourself for what you have done and others will forgive you is probably a real thing and I think you should do that. Or else you're to suffer in this Earth and the next life. So... I'm over it, so you should too."

She opened the door and walked of the room, closing the door gently. Despite being ready, Clara stayed in her bed and didn't move, thinking of what Naomi said. She had a point. Nobody but Clara knew about how God loves them and will forgive them for the wrong they have done, if they seek forgiveness. That's what Clara did and hoped that it would atone her wrongs.

"I'm being such a baby," she muttered. "A big, annoying baby who needs to move on. Yeah, that's it, maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I did something bad. But what was it?"

But what about the noises?

"I have really good hearing," she reasoned out loud. "Very, very good hearing."

Satisfied with her conclusions, she heaved herself from the bed and went downstairs. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she was greeted by the severe face of Sister Karen.

"Good morning Sister Karen," she greeted cheerfully.

"Good morning Clara. May I speak to you in private?" Karen requested. Clara tried to keep an impassive face and nodded. She followed the nun to her office. They passed the dining room and Clara's stomach twisted at the delicious aroma that she smelled. She hoped that it wouldn't take long.

"Is there something you need?" Clara said after a few seconds of silence.

"I had a complaint of your behavior," Sister Karen said bluntly, going straight to the point.

"Naomi said she would let it go," Clara said in disbelief, her eyes full of resentment.

"It wasn't Naomi."

"Oh." She felt her cheeks flame up. "Is wasn't? Never mind then," she said hastily.

"Is there something that we—?" Karen started, looking at her suspiciously.

"No," Clara said immediately. "Everything is fine, it was nothing. Who was it? Who complained about my behavior?"

I bet it was Ron, she thought bitterly. She wanted to defend her actions toward him but refrained herself. It would only make the hole deeper and harder for her to get out.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you."

"Why? Because they asked me not to or because it was an anonymous complaint?"

"I can't tell you that either."

"Then what can you tell me?" she said, feeling grumpy.

"Well, remember that I said about repenting a few days ago? Where you...?"

Clara tried to stop herself from her face showing disdain at what Karen was talking about. She idly played with her hair as she begrudgingly listened to Karen lecture her about how her actions are hurting the people around her and what does it mean for them.

Clara choked slightly and seized up when she felt a burning sensation in her arm. It felt familiar, the feeling like her entire hand was on fire and how it was slowly destroying her skin. She grimaced and pulled the sleeve of her sweater, hoping it wouldn't show. But being fired, it started scorching her flimsy sweater, burning holes.

It's real, it's not in my head. Oh God! How do I stop it now?

Not even the chanting stopped what was happening to her. The arm of the chair, starting heating up and in a second it was burning. Clara yelp and hit the small flame. Immediately, everything went back to normal.

"Clara?" Her sharp voice made Clara looked at her and see Karen was looking at her disapprovingly. "What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm fine," she gasped and shifted around her seat. "Thought I saw a bug. Sorry. Hate bugs. Go on about my—my, ugh—ah, my errors. I apologize for interrupting. Please go on."

The nun narrowed her eyes, finding her stance suspicious. Clara tried to give her a reassuring smile, in hopes that it would redirect her attention from the real problem that was occurring under her school sweater. And it did.

Karen went on about how she had been a great child since she was brought into the orphanage, and that despite the multiple problems they've had with her health, she's been an easy child. Clara forced herself to listen to everything that the nun said, it was the only thing she could do.

"This isn't you Clara. Yelling at people, not praying before supper, don't think I haven't missed it. What's wrong?"

To be honest I don't know. But the good thing is now I know for sure it's not in my head.

"Hypochondria," she simply replied. "That's all I got."

Karen looked at her in disappointment and nodded. "Hypochondria? Is that right? And what is that?"

"It's something that you think you have but you don't." But Clara did know that she did have something, a big problem. And all that she needed what caused her problem to trigger. "Can I go now?"

I finally did it. The second chapter of the story. Thank you so much for everything (the faves, follows and reviews). Hope you like it and don't forget to review, they really help know how you feel about the story.

Also, I hope I don't confuse you with so many names, I realized that in last chapter I threw in a lot of names. And, in case you were wondering, this Clara (angsty, moody) isn't going to be around a lot. She's just in a phase, teenage phase.

(The song, in the beginning, is called Blue Moon. It's been covered various times but the one that Clara had in mind was singing by Julie London)

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. Only my original plots and OC's.

Saskia: Thank you so much for reviewing and the compliment, I feel incredibly flattered. I feel bad for Clara too, but she'll be fine.

Guest: Well you don't have to wait for more, here's the next chapter. Thanks for reviewing.