Yes, I am well aware that this chapter is very short. No, I do not feel bad about it, not even close. This chapter really needed to end where it did, and even though I considered continuing it, I realized about 3 seconds later that that's the wrong thing to do.

Anyway, here you go. Someone asked me if I could say when I expect to post the next chapter. My goal is by next Friday. It's going to be a complicated and difficult chapter to write, so odds are it will take time. It may be later than that, hopefully earlier, but that is my goal.

Disclaimer- I do not own Degrassi. There is no bill in the world large enough to deserve it =)

I follow Eli inside his house. It's dim, the only source of brightness is a small light hung above the sink.

He strides over towards the pantry and opens the door. "Do you want some hot chocolate?" Shuffling through scattered chip bags and oatmeal containers, he adds with a nervous laugh, "But I'm warning you, I am obligated to burn down at least one piece of furniture."

I laugh, too, but it's rhythmic to his; forced, nothing more but an aspect to fill our lack of words.

"You don't have to," I hesitantly sit down on a chair by his kitchen table, picking at a chipped piece of wood.

Eli pulls out a large jug and throws it up in the air, proceeding to catch it safely in his hands. "Clare, it's like zero degrees outside. Plus, this hot chocolate is kick ass. You'll thank me."

A heat of frustration boils inside of me. Why is he acting so normal? It's three thirty in the morning. I have never actually been inside his house before. And I just called him, broken, nearly in tears, barely able to choke out a single phrase. And all he's worried about is the stupid kick ass hot chocolate.

I need him, I remind myself. He may be boggling my mind right now, but I have nowhere else to go.

"Are you parents home?" I look at his barely visible staircase, fearing that his mom or dad will come barging down the stairs, demanding to know what nutcase is waking up their son this early in the morning.

To my relief Eli shakes his head, "Nah. My dad stayed late at the radio station he works at, so he decided to just stay the night, and my mom is visiting her friend. Her fiancé died in a car accident the other day."

"Oh," I look down at my lap, grieving for someone I don't even know.

Eli pours water into a coffee mug and sticks it into the microwave, the sweet humming becoming the only sense of sound in our silence. It beeps after a few moments and he takes it out, repeating the steps once again with another cup.

What he said makes me think of Julia, Eli's dead ex-girlfriend. And now that I think about it, I recognize the hint of agony on his face when he spoke.

"Hey Eli," I say as he pours a packet of powder into one of the mugs, "Did Julia- was the one who showed you the rooftop?"

Eli's eyes slowly shift towards the floor, and I instantly regret my question.

"I'm sorry," I blurt out, "I shouldn't have asked-"

"It's fine," He whispers quietly, still holding the packet above the cup even though all the powder is gone.

Eli tensely stirs the ingredients together, gripping his spoon a bit too tightly. "We found it together, actually. But she showed me Townsend Street, so I guess all the credit should go to her."

I nod my head like I understand, even though inside me, all I can think about is my father's pleading eyes. My forehead develops sweat, despite the chills still racing through my blood. My vision begins to spin in all directions, colors and objects a like combining until they're one.

I've been in a daze, bordered with a barrier of dreamlike fog. Now I'm awake, full alert, and everything this night has been leading up to suddenly feels like too much for me to handle.

Eli sets one of the coffee mugs down on the table and sits down across from me. Steam rises above the liquid, seeping up into the air and disappearing out of sight. "Be careful," he says, almost robotically, "The cup is hot."

I wrap my forefinger around the handle, scared to burn myself. "Okay."

We just sit there for a few minutes, clanking our spoons against the cups, neither one of us daring enough to take the first sip. I refuse to look straight at him, because I know that my eyes will tell the whole story.

Eli takes the first sip, flinching at the ruthless heat. "Clare," he pushes the cup away from him, "Why are you here?"

"I-I," I can't put it into words. There's so much I want to say, yet so much I want to hold in, and all of it begins to look the same.

"Clare," his voice is demanding, "Why are you here?"

"I don't know." I shamefully bury my head in my hands, shaking violently, barely able to breathe. Flip-flops dance in the heart of my stomach, twisting and knotting it over and over again.

I feel sick. I'm going to throw up.

"Are you okay?" I'm shocked that he sounds almost as terrified as me.

Eventually I brace up enough courage to look him square in the face. Concern, compassion, fear, uneasiness, hunger for knowledge, so many emotions all bottled up into the olive shade of his eyes. It only makes the gut-wrenching pain more unbearable. This is all my fault.

"No."

I'm not okay. I never was. Even during those moments where I caught a slight taste of happiness, my father's face was still pervading my sense of freedom, strapping me into a seatbelt for a violent ride. My skin, my heart, everything that creates me has always been ripping apart, if not in groups, than one piece at a time. Some things happen in a moment so fast you need to turn around and second guess if it ever even happened. Others build up throughout time, bruising your body until you realize it's the only part of yourself left.

"What's wrong?" He asks gently.

I shake my head back and forth. I don't want this. I just want to go home and curl up in bed. Let my dad beat me. Let me die inside my own wounds.

"Please tell me."

No. You don't want to know.

"You've been hiding it- whatever it is- for a long time, haven't you?"

The string doesn't snap like I thought it would. There is no magical firework inside my brain or harsh word that surfaces me to the tip of the water. It just slides away, gracefully, slowly, as though I had been grasping it with firm hands and finally allowed it to slip through my fingers.

There is no way to crawl into this. The truth is the truth, no explanations or reasons needed to back it up. It's just there, set in stone, hidden behind all the lies and waiting to be discovered.

"My dad beats me."

I'm still me after I say the words. The bruises are still scattered along my skin, and my father's face is still the first thing I see when I close my eyes. Nothing is different about me. I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

Eli's face only changes once. From concern and worry, it shifts to an emotion that can't possibly be explained in one word on it's own. But it's a look that breaks my heart and heals it at the same.

Eli knew all along. Maybe the actual words never slipped into his conscious mind, but somewhere deep inside himself, the truth was stirring around, encircled so significantly with all the lies and resistance that it couldn't be discovered.

But now he knows. And all I can do is sit here, silent and still, and wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I don't quite know exactly what I am waiting for him to do. Maybe yell at me. Maybe hug me and tell me everything is going to be okay. Or maybe even kiss me and declare his unconditional love. I really have no idea what I'm expecting, but it isn't what does. Not even close.

He reaches across the table and holds my hand.

I close my eyes and savor the feeling of his warm fingers embracing mine. This is what I need. I don't need supporting words or mountains of apologizes and regrets. All I need is somewhere to be here, when I'm cold and scared at three thirty in the morning, and hold my hand.

And somewhere, deep inside me, I knew, just like Eli, that this is the truth.

Ahhh? Ahhh? Finally got there =) This is what you've all been waiting for. So, how do you guys like it? Is it good enough? How you expected it?

Shout out to IndependenceBaer- To a wonderful writer with a story beyond words. If you haven't read her story, read it. You won't be disappointed. She is a great person with a true talent when it comes to emotions =)