Chapter Twenty-Seven: Damning Evidence
"Clarke, will you get the door?"
Clarke glanced over at her mother who was currently pulling the turkey out of the oven. Clarke stepped back from the sink where she was finishing the potatoes and wiped her hands on her apron. "Yeah, I got it."
"Am I early?" Her dad asked when she opened the door. He had a bottle of wine in one hand.
Clarke grinned. "Right on time, as usual."
Jake raised his eyebrows. "Do you think your mom will be surprised?"
Clarke smiled, motioning for him to some inside. "Definitely. I haven't mentioned anything to her. She doesn't have a clue."
Her father ruffled her hair with his free hand as he strode inside. "Always on top of things, aren't ya squirt?" He came to halt in the hallway to observe the living room. Something about his expression made him look sad. "It looks the same as when I left…"
Clarke swallowed, coming up alongside him. "Daddy?"
The moment passed and suddenly her dad was smiling again. "It's nothing squirt. Just some good nostalgia that you can't get in California is all." He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "Let's go see your mom."
"Who was at the door Cla—" Mom froze when her eyes landed on her ex-husband, mouth agape with a small smile. "Jake?"
Dad held up his bottle of wine with a sneaky grin. "What did the grape say when he was crushed? Nothing, he just let out a little wine!"
Mom rolled her eyes, stepping forward and taking the wine from his hands. "Your humor is still as terrible as I remember it," she grinned despite herself.
Dad shrugged, leaning his elbows on a tiny portion of the kitchen island that wasn't covered in Thanksgiving platters. "You say that as if I've been gone for years, exploring foreign countrysides."
Mom slipped the wine bottle into a stand that Marcus had gotten her for their anniversary a few years ago. Clarke's smile withered slightly. "It feels like it, though," Mom muttered, turning back to her preparations, "I wish you were still close by." She cleared her throat, wringing her hands before moving Clarke aside to take over the potatoes. "Why don't you grab your brother, Clarke? Marcus will be home soon and then we'll start dinner."
"Sure. I'll be right back!"
It felt really nice to have her parents in the same room again. When they had first gotten the divorce, Clarke had been pretty sure that it was going to be the end of the world—she thought that her dad was going to move away and never see her again or that her mom would keep her from seeing him, but the dynamic hadn't changed much other than her dad moving into a new house a few streets over.
Clarke had always wondered why her parents had gotten a divorce when they were clearly best friends without any type of disharmony between them, but she had let it go after Marcus and Jasper entered the picture. For as angry as she was with her mom at the time, Marcus and Jasper really were Clarke's family and she would hate not having them around.
She knocked twice on Jasper's door, but there was no answer. "Jasper?" She knocked again, this time cracking the door open enough to stick her head into his room. The curtains were skewed, his bed was a mess, and his fish-tank was overgrown by an algae forest. The only light was the dim glow of his Christmas lights, but even those were half burned out, leaving the room in only a portion of the brightness it should have been.
Fortunately, it looked like he had sorted his fresh laundry and made a pile near the door for his dirty clothes.
Where would he be? Clarke didn't remember him saying anything about going out, and even if he had, there was no way her mom would let him walk out on Thanksgiving.
Clarke backtracked down the upstairs hallway toward the bathroom and sure enough, the door was closed and locked. She knocked. "Jasper?"
A louder clutter and surprised grunt came from the other side. "What?"
Clarke pressed her forehead to the door, frowning slightly. "Are you okay? What was that sound?"
"What sound?"
His voice was a bit panicky, almost guilty. He was hiding something. "Are you sure," she pressed, "it made a loud sound."
"I SAID THERE WASN'T A SOUND." The door flew open and Jasper stormed out with a big hood covering his face.
Clarke side-stepped out of his way, allowing him to storm back to his room without the risk of him bulldozing her. "Jasper, what's wrong?" She jogged after him down the hallway but he slammed the door in her face right as she reached him. "At least come down for dinner, Jasper."
"I'm not hungry." His muffled response.
The more Jasper had an attitude with her, which was often these days, the less patience she had when dealing with him. "We worked really hard on that meal, Jasper. You better come eat it." The silence on the other side of the door made her want to throw something. "If not for me," she raised her voice this time, the frustration finally getting to her, "at least go down to see my dad! He's been excited to see you!"
Quiet.
Then the knob rattled and Clarke lifted her head from the door just before Jasper heaved it open. He shot her nasty glare through the slit in his hood that just barely left his eyes visible, then shouldered past her down the hall and stairs.
Standing there in the hallway, Clarke breathed out a slow and sad exhale. She wondered exactly what was wrong with her brother and why he was refusing to get better. Even worse, she wondered just how much of it was her fault for not recognizing his pain sooner. At this point, she wasn't sure how to help, if helping him was even possible.
Her hazel eyes shifted to the bathroom again.
What had been Jasper doing in there?
Seeing as how she had her own personal bathroom as a part of her room, Clarke rarely ever went into the hallway one since it was reserved as Jasper's. The last time Clarke remembered going into Jasper's bathroom was the night before Homecoming all those weeks ago…
Clarke slid her fingers into the back pockets of her jeans, probably making her look more suspicious, before sliding into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.
She wasn't really sure what she was looking for, which made things about ten times harder. Something that would make a lot of noise if dropped? Clarke ducked down and started rummaging through the cabinet under the sink but came up empty. Something that would make a lot of noise if dropped but also something Jasper didn't want her to know about…
About a hundred different thoughts ran through her mind, all of which she scrapped right away. She had to hurry though.
Nothing was in the shower other than shampoo and conditioner. Ooh. How dangerous.
"You're just being paranoid, Clarke," she muttered to herself.
"Clarke?"
Her mother's voice made Clarke jump, accidently knocking over a pack of razors on the floor. "Ahh—yeah?"
"Are you alright? What was that?"
Clarke suddenly reveled in a sense of déjà vu which kind of made her want to kick herself. Jasper had probably just knocked the razors off the counter when she scared him, just like she just did. "I just accidentally dropped Jasper's razors," she called, crouching down to push the razors back into their packaging.
"When you're done, come on down. Marcus got home so we're going to be starting dinner."
"Yeah, don't worry I'll—" Clarke's eyebrows furrowed together as she twirled one of the razors in her fingers. The head was crushed and it was missing it's blade. That certainly wasn't common. She set it to her side and dumped the razors she had already returned to the package back on the floor. It was a pack of eight, and out of those eight, three of them were crushed with missing blades. "—be out in a second."
There was no point in finishing the sentence since it was clear her mother had left, but in the few moments she found the sketchy razor blades it felt like her body had been put on pause and it was just now picking up in the last spot it remembered.
Clarke pushed the razors aside and crawled toward the garbage can beside the toilet and peered inside. She wasn't sure what she was looking for until the word blood crossed her mind, making chills go down her spine.
To her relief, there was no blood in the garbage. Just an empty deodorant stick and Snickers wrapper.
Clarke fell back on her heels, a rush of relief flooding her. There was no way Jasper would hurt himself. Sure, he was going through a rough patch, but he wouldn't go to such as extreme would he? Surely he would have come to her if it was something so bad as that.
The daunting recollection of her family waiting on her for dinner broke Clarke out of her stupor and she quickly rearranged the razors back into the package just as she had found them. Maybe she should talk to Bellamy and Harper about it tomorrow...
"That sure took a while, kiddo," her dad laughed when she finally slipped into her seat at the table. Clarke ignored the annoyed frown her mother was giving her.
"Sorry," Clarke said quickly. "I was sick for a few minutes. I'm better now."
Just as she was hoping, the subject was dropped almost instantly aside from her dad and Marcus inquiring if she was sure she was fine and if she was feeling well enough to eat at the table.
"I'm fine." She put her glass to her lips to stifle further questions.
But as Marcus said grace, Clarke couldn't help but look over the table at Jasper and wonder if things were ever going to be fine again.
...
Clarke had never hosted a Friendsgiving before; they were usually held at Harper's house but since her house was in the middle of being remodeled, Clarke had taken it upon herself to offer up her basement for the good of the group.
After Thanksgiving dinner with her family the night before, Clarke's dad had helped her move extra tables and chairs into the basement from the garage and set them up. Now that she had a use for it, Clarke was finally thankful that Marcus had decided to redo the basement. The kitchen unit was a God send and she had a feeling that the pool table and dart board were going to be big hits with the guys.
"How are we doing on time?" Harper poked her head out from around the corner wall that led to the basement bathroom. She had come early with sweet potatoes and helped with last minute clean up.
The clock on the wall read half past five which meant people would be showing up in about half an hour. "Pretty good. I think we'll have just enough time to get dressed."
Harper grinned, pushing her long hair over her shoulder. "Excellent. Shall we?"
Clarke nodded, and the two of them headed up to Clarke's room where they changed into Thanksgiving clothes; Harper in black leggings, an orange sweater, and beige knee-high socks. Clarke opted for her new sweater dress, brown leggings, and brown fuzzy socks. Cute, yet comfortable.
While Harper was curling the ends of her hair, Clarke risked a few glances at her. She really wanted to talk to someone about the discovery she made in Jasper's bathroom the previous night, but she wasn't sure that it was such a good idea.
"Clarke?" Clarke had spaced and hadn't noticed Harper trying to get her attention. "It looks like you want to ask me something," Harper said.
Clarke forced a smile. Good job, she told herself. Clarke knew she was a lousy liar. "It's nothing. I'll talk to you about it later."
Harper's lips folded into a thin crease. "Okay," she said, "but if there's something bothering you, you can always tell me." She reached out her hand and Clarke took it with a smile.
A light knock had them both at attention. A second later Monty's head was poking inside the room. "Good, you're both clothed. That could have been disastrous."
Clarke laughed, pushing herself up. "My mom let you in?"
"That she did." He stepped into the room. "She was on her way out with your dad and Marcus."
"Yeah, they're going out for the night so we can have the house to ourselves. I guess we better head down though. The others will be here soon."
"Wait." Monty gestured to his blue button down. "Aren't you going to compliment me on my new shirt?"
"Very nice, Monty." Harper adjusted his collar, gave his shoulder two pats, and walked out the door.
Clarke didn't miss the half grin on his face. "When are you going to say something to her?"
The smile was suddenly wiped and his eyes settled on her urgently. "You haven't said anything to her have you?"
"Of course not." Clarke rolled her eyes. "But you really should. Who knows what could happen."
"Why? Did you hear something?"
"What? No. I'm just saying." She bopped him on the nose good naturedly and went to move around him, but Monty rested a hand on her forearm to stop her. "What's wrong, Monty?"
It took a moment for Monty to shift his eyes from his socks to her face again. "Is—" He paused. "Is Jasper going to be coming down too?"
The air deflated from her chest in defeat. Monty deserved to know about her findings, but something like that would crush him and make him blame himself—she couldn't do that to him. "I told him he should join us," she said, and that was the truth, "if he feels up to it. I can't guarantee that he will."
Monty gave two short nods and hung his head. Clarke looped her hand around his bicep and whispered, "Escort me?" which triggered an exasperated sigh.
"Shall we?"
Raven and Finn were standing at the door with Harper when Clarke and Monty descended the staircase. It wasn't a surprise since those two were rarely without each other these days, but Clarke was a bit nervous about the dynamic. She didn't want Raven getting hurt again.
"You guys dress up nice," Monty commented.
"Same could be said about you guys," Raven responded.
The outward look of admiration on Finn's face made Clarke a little uncomfortable. "You look stunning," he said, his voice a little breathy.
Clarke clapped her hands together, forcing a laugh. "Not really, but thanks! Harper," she turned to her friend who was holding Finn and Raven's coats, "let's put those away for them real quick and Monty can show them to the basement!"
A twinkle in Monty's eyes reassured her. "Yeah, sure. Come on, you two. I bet I'll wipe the floor with you guys in darts."
"You're on," Raven said, but her eyes lingered on Finn for an extra moment. When he didn't move, she shoved him slightly to get him to follow Monty.
Clarke ducked out of the foyer and into the kitchen, Harper close at her heels. "Should I text Raven?" she muttered, leaning with her elbows against the counter and her fingers steepled against her forehead. "I don't want her to think that something is up with me and Finn."
Harper dumped the jackets that were in her arms onto the window seat bed. "I don't think you should worry about it. Raven doesn't blame you and it's her choice to keep hanging around with Finn despite knowing how he feels."
Clarke sighed into her palms. "Yeah, I know. It worries me though."
"Do you still have feelings for him?"
The question caught Clarke off guard. "No! Of course not!"
Harper tilted her chin down slightly. "Are you sure? Not even a little bit?"
Clarke hesitated. The horrible side of her had enjoyed it when he called her stunning and when he went out of his way for her. "Maybe I have a few feelings for him still, but not enough to make me want to work things out with him. Especially not now that Raven and I are on good terms."
Harper shrugged, pursing her lips to one side. "I really don't know how to help."
Clarke laughed bitterly. "That's okay. I just needed to vent."
"No worries. I think I'm going to head downstairs though. I kind of want to watch them play darts."
"Yeah, of course!" Clarke righted herself and smoothed out her clothes. "Go on. I'm gonna wait until the others get here."
"Are you sure you don't wanna come down for a bit?"
Clarke thought about Finn again and shook her head. "No, it's really okay. I'll be down shortly."
After Harper left, it wasn't too long of a wait before Miller showed up with mashed potatoes. Murphy and Emori were next, bearing the gifts of green bean casserole and a bottle of wine.
"I'm still not sure why I was invited," Murphy muttered when he passed Clarke his coat.
Clarke folded it over her arm, a playful smile on her face. "Consider it a thank you for helping us out of a tight spot the other night."
Finally, Octavia and Lincoln made their way inside by 6 o'clock. Octavia was barely recognizable with her braided hair and heavy eye make-up. It was different, but it suited her perfectly. She looked alot more mature than she did at the beginning of the school year just a few months ago.
"Sorry we're late, Clarke," she said, shimmying out of her Timberlands.
"Don't be sorry." Clarke tried not to be too obvious about her curiosity as she gave hugs to both Lincoln and Octavia. "Where's Bellamy?"
Octavia's eyebrows shot up briefly, but Clarke still noticed. "He's on his way. He got hung up at the doctor's office he works at. We were going to wait for him but he said to go without him."
Clarke nodded, wondering how long she was going to have to wait. She really wanted to talk to him about what she found in the bathroom. She blinked, realizing she had temporarily zoned out. "Oh, uh, everyone's in the basement. They're having a darts tournament I think."
"Darts?" Octavia whipped around to Lincoln. "You would be great at that."
Lincoln laughed, subconsciously playing with his hands. "Maybe. I've never tried."
"Go on down, guys. I'll be down when Bellamy gets here."
Octavia and Lincoln shared a look that made Clarke a little annoyed, but she didn't say anything about it. People seemed to have been reading into her and Bellamy's friendship a little too much these days because the implications of romantic interest were starting to tire her. She didn't like him that way and never would.
He was just a good friend that she knew she could trust.
Clarke settled on the base step and put her face in her hands. She wondered if Murphy had opened that bottle of wine yet. She kind of wanted some. It was a relief that her parents were out of the house for night. As long as they were able to get rid of the bottle by the end of the night, everything would be fine.
The knock broke her from her stupor. She hadn't noticed that she was dozing off, but it hardly mattered because she was yanking the door open the instant she was awake enough to stand properly. Bellamy looked nice; he was wearing black jeans, a red Marvel hoodie, and his hair seemed extra curly.
Bellamy must have noticed her eyes because he said, "I know I'm kind of underdressed but I tried showering and getting ready as fast as possible, hence this mess." He cocked his head to either side, making his hair bounce and Clarke laughed. On the contrary—she liked how comfortable he looked. "Hopefully these make up for it?"
He held up a bag in either hand, both of which contained an assortment of pies and other pastry like deserts. "Did you raid a bakery?" she joked while she rifled through one of the bags. She nodded her head towards the inside of the house, beckoning him inside.
Bellamy obliged, closing the door behind him. "Perhaps. But that's a secret for me to know and you to wonder about." Clarke rolled her eyes, setting the bag down on the kitchen counter. Bellamy followed suit. "Where is everyone? Don't tell me I'm the first one here?"
"They're downstairs. I wanted to wait for you."
"Really now?" Bellamy grinned playfully, nudging her with his elbow slightly. "What am I in trouble for?"
Clarke chewed on the inside of her cheek. Was it a bad idea to tell him after all? What if he was no help whatsoever? Still, it would feel alot better if she could just get it off of her chest…
"Bellamy," she grabbed his forearm just below the elbow, her eyebrows furrowed together. Her voice was less confident than she meant.
Bellamy's impish expression dimmed significantly. "Clarke," his voice was deep and soft, softer than she had ever heard him before, "what's wrong?"
Clarke's fingers painfully curled around the fabric of his sweater. "I—I need to show you something. I might be overreacting, but if I'm not—"
Bellamy rested his free hand on Clarke's shoulder reassuringly. "Show me."
Clarke took him upstairs, paused hesitantly outside of the door to ensure Jasper wasn't in there, and then led them both inside the bathroom. She closed the door with a silent click before turning on the lights.
"I was in here yesterday," she said quietly, but something was already wrong. The razor package wasn't on the counter like they had been the day before. "And I found a package of razors, except some of them were smashed and missing the blades from them."
She crouched down to rifle through the cabinets under the sink but there was nothing there. "I know they were here."
"You think that Jasper might be…" Bellamy left the sentence hanging in the air.
"I'm not sure." Clarke pushed herself up from the floor. "I hope he hasn't been hurting himself but he's been so distant lately, I'm afraid it might be true."
The fact that they were suddenly gone without a trace worried Clarke. Bellamy leaned his back up against the wall, his facial features scrunched up in thought. "Maybe he needed them for a project of some kind? Needed the blades to cut something, like that manila paper stuff."
"Jasper has never done projects, and even if he had in the past, there's no way he's done something along those lines in the last few weeks."
Bellamy bit down on his fist, eyes lowered to the ground for a few thoughtful seconds. "I think that this is just circumstantial evidence at this point." Clarke opened her mouth to protest but Bellamy cut her off. "I think it's about time we keep a closer eye on him. If he has suspicious behavior outside of being anti-social, then we need to intervene. I do think you should tell your mom about this though."
The thought sent a shiver through her body. "No, I can't do that. Not right now when we don't for sure. That's why I came to you."
Bellamy folded his arms. "Clarke, you have to. I'm sure she knows how to handle something like this better than you or I do."
A stray tear rolled down Clarke's cheek which she quickly rubbed away. "I just don't want her to bombard him and making him worse if he is doing that bad. I want to fix it but I don't know how."
"Clarke." Bellamy grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her into his chest, encircling her in a warm embrace. She hugged him around his middle, bunching up his sweatshirt into her fists as she pressed her face into his chest. Her legs trembled in anger and sadness.
Even though she felt like crying, she couldn't—the tears just wouldn't flow. Did that make her a bad person? Was she failing Jasper? The more she thought about it, the more she felt like everyone around her just tended to suffer. She really was the worst.
But still, the tears wouldn't come so she held onto to Bellamy while he held her close. Every so often his hand would move up her back reassuringly, before resuming its place in the niche of her back.
Clarke had no motivation to move until the terrifyingly close door slam followed by a muffled curse filtered through the closed bathroom. Bellamy's head shot up from where it had been lightly perched on top of her's. "Jasper's coming."
Clarke shook her head lifelessly. "He can't find us. He can't know that I've been snooping."
The footsteps were louder. They had six seconds at best. "Turn off the light," Bellamy said, pulling back the shower curtain and setting one foot in the tub, "and get in the bathtub."
Clarke almost wanted to protest, but there was no time. There wasn't a closet and they couldn't both hide under the sink. This was their best chance. She clawed at the light switch, forcing it off, and then vaulted over the side of the tub. She hoped he hadn't seen the light through the bottom crack of the doorway.
Bellamy had just enough time to pull the shower curtain closed just as the door flew open and light once again flooded the room. Clarke's legs were tangled with Bellamy's, her shoulder were tucked into his side, and her tailbone was painfully crushed against the side of the tub but she didn't dare move. Bellamy looked just as uncomfortable, if not more given his height, but he stayed perfectly still as well.
The toilet seat crashed against the tank, making a loud noise. Clarke closed her eyes and pressed her face into Bellamy's chest when it was made clear that Jasper was peeing. That was the last thing she wanted to be involved with.
Please leave already, she thought. For some reason he was hanging back even after he had washed his hands. His shadow wasn't very prominent from this side of the shower curtain and it wasn't like she could ask Bellamy for his take on it.
"Hello?" Jasper's sudden words startled her. Had they been found out? She stilled her breathing even more. "Yeah, I was thinking of maybe taking your advice."
Advice? What?
Clarke moved ever so slightly so she could look at Bellamy in the face. Phone call, he mouthed.
"Everyone's downstairs already," Jasper was saying. "No, not today….Little progress at a time….I'd prefer it if you were here….I know….I'll probably talk to Monty….I could care less about her at this point. She's moved on….You remember! I still can't stand Finn….Yeah, I'm not sure….Alright, I'll let you go. Bye."
There was a drawn out sigh after the call ended, and then the the sink was running. It lasted for a few seconds before stopping, then lights were turned off, and the door finally closed again. Clarke sat up almost instantly and Bellamy did likewise. It couldn't have been more than five minutes, but the cramped positioning in the tub did a toll on the back.
"Who was he talking to?" Bellamy asked. It sounded like he was climbing out, but she couldn't tell in the dark.
"I'm not sure. His side of the conversation was pretty vague," she replied. The lights flickered back on and Clarke could see again. "What was the running water for?"
Bellamy peered over the sink, looking for anything deemed suspicious. "Maybe he washed his face? There's nothing here that suggests otherwise."
Clarke pressed her hand onto the counter and leaned into it. "We should go back down to the party. People are going to wonder what's up."
"Octavia has already texted me a few times. When we get down there, we'll tell them that you've been waiting for me this whole time and I just got here, okay? Let's keep this between ourselves right now, but I really do think we need to talk to somebody."
Clarke sighed. "I promise to talk to share my concerns with my mom, but I can't tell her about the razors until I know for sure." She searched Bellamy's face for some kind of reassurance, but his expression was like a statues. "You think I'm making a bad decision."
"I can't say I fully agree with it."
She pursed her lips to the side. "Come on. We have a dinner to join."
...
bellarke fluff! and angst! and some poor decisions.
4/29/18
