so much planned or this story, and so little time! thanks to the people who found the sequel and have already reviewed or favourited or alerted it. btw, the chapters will get longer, it's just my writing at the moment.

love, sas.

"Worry is the interest paid by those who borrow trouble."

- George Washington Lyon

"Clara Howard?"

I must admit, travelling two hours by car to London was extremely queer. I was shunned the whole time by my parents whilst my mother stared at me like some sort of circus animal. I focussed in onto my surroundings of a plain white room with shiny wooden flooring, whilst I sat on an uncomfortable chair flanked by my parents. A posh man walked half out of a room, his head craning to look at us. I stood up, brushing myself down, and I was going to go in when he stopped me, "Now, Miss Howard, would you like your parents with you?"

I looked back at my parents blankly, "I'd rather be on my own," I said bitterly.

I was shown in by this balding a middle aged man, who was actually the doctor. He wore glasses, thick ones and politely showed me in. The office had a peculiar feel of a library, as a whole wall was covered in a bookshelf and the room was also covered in the same white paint. He quickly sat at a desk, which took up at lot of the space. I sat to where he gestured to; a oversized worn leather chair. I sat down gingerly; sinking into the crevasses like a stone in a canyon. The psychologist peered over at me, "So Miss Howard, I'm Dr Jones." He clasped his hands tightly.

I nodded as some silence came in. I looked at the floor; ashamed of why I was here.

Dr Jones unclasped his hands and picked up a fountain pen dipping in a pot of ink before he wrote something in a notebook before looking at me again, "Tell me, Clara." He adjusted his spectacles, "Why are you being so… quiet at home? Was it what you saw when you were on that ship when it sunk?"

That ship. My goodness he was disrespectful, "Perhaps…" I mumbled.

He wrote something else down, before he took off his glasses and looked at me seriously, "Did you see anything… distressing?"

Distressing was a really nice word of him to use.

I nodded.

"What did you see, dear?"

I cleared my throat before looking up at him, "I saw people massacred and drown. I almost died myself!"

He put his glasses back on because scribbling something else down, "Do you have nightmares of this… sinking Clara?"

I suppose I had, but it wasn't like it happened every night but just on occasion, I nodded my reply.

He took a while to write something down, before smiling comfortingly at me, "Dear, there's a few more personal questions I would like to ask you."

I shuffled uncomfortably in my seat before nodding again.

A creepy smile occurred over his face, "Do you ever feel like... you don't belong in this world?"

"Yes, yes that's exactly how I feel." I said quickly, not letting him know of Narnia, but of my true feelings.

He slowly took off his glasses with a light sigh, "Miss Howard, may I just ask if you ever have any..." he cleared his throat, "Suicidal thoughts?"

I stared at him with a look of shock on my face, "Why would I ever? I am quite happy!" I put on a weak smile before he looked completely unimpressed. He adjusted his glasses before he gave off a light sigh, and he questioned me for another half an hour asking me on my aspects on life and living. Before long however, he had brought my parents in. My mother held onto my father's arm like a lost child, whilst looking like she had obviously been crying.

"Mr and Mrs Howard," his highly posh and droning voice began, "I suppose I have to break you this news of Clara's mental state…"

I didn't flinch. I felt my mother put her hand on my shoulder as she approached, before removing it like my skin was boiling hot.

"From my diagnosis, Clara has post traumatic stress disorder and depression."

My mother cried badly, and I still didn't flinch. I was completely unfazed by this.

"So, to improve her mental state I suggest this…"

--

My parents made me go outside every day. They made me walk around the garden digging up vegetables and going around the local forest; a stone's throw from our house. It was rather enchanting, and reminded me of Narnia in a sense because of the supreme quietness and senerity of the trees. I could be alone, with no-one around. I walked every day to there, before finding an appropriate stick and in my mind, I pretended I could use a sword just how Oreius told me.

If he was even real.

I questioned the existence of Narnia, as in my mind it could have been a hallucination because of the oil and other things that could have been in the water. But I felt myself die in Narnia. I felt pain, loss and...

No, I questioned the existence of the Pevensies. I had to question everything that had happened, as logically, it was impossible. But if they were from Finchley, then perhaps I could track them down?

But coming back to reality with all this walking and running, I became more healthy. And eventually, it came to my parent's anniversary, for which I went to the woods to spend my day. The bitter winter of that year occurred in which I still went outside in rain, snow, or sleet with my woolly coat wrapped tightly around me and many layers of clothing piled on. I always did my schoolwork though, as to my father it was incredibly important. Winter turned to spring and it was my birthday. I opened my presents simply before then went back to the woods.

My parents got worried again.

"You're not meeting up with any young men, are you Clara?" my mother asked me when we were eating dinner one day.

I almost choked on my food, "Pardon?"

She gave me a strange look, "Because now you're sixteen it doesn't mean you're an adult yet. And besides, if you ever got married we'd rather you married someone like… Alexander."

I groaned. Alexander was my attempted rescuer from the Lancastria. My parents thanked him so many times for his bravery, but I liked him. But just as a friend. I'm too young to be getting into anything like that anyway. Just because my mother was a common whor-

"Too right!" I heard my father say between mouthfuls, "He's a nice boy. He'll make you proud since he's in the forces!"

I avoided answering anything during that meal, in fact, I avoided anything t do with my parents.