"Feel ok so far?" Chris peered down at Clara through the glow coming out from the screen.
She nodded softly, snuggling into him some more. He felt so warm and soft, like a giant teddy bear. She felt like drifting off against his body when he stroked her through her slightly damp hair and twirled a few strands with his index finger.
"If you wanna sleep, we can stop it and you can go to bed." He offered. He didn't want her to sit through an entire film if her eyes came close to closing.
"No, it isn't that."
He sat up a little. "Then what?" Was she feeling unwell again? He hoped not.
She looked to him, noticing the exceptionally different tints of blue within his eyes as they shimmered from the light. She didn't want him to worry. She shrugged. "I just feel so good being with you."
Chris felt her answer make him glow inside and he came over feeling a little warm and fuzzy. "Well, that's my job."
Clara sighed blissfully in his embrace. "I thought you'd have gone to see your girlfriend over the weekend."
He peered down at the floor sadly. "I'm not seeing her till Monday."
"Oh dear," she smiled softly, "had a barney?"
"A bit of one." He admitted. "It'll sort itself out by then, I'm sure."
She closed her eyes and ran a hand up and down his broad chest affectionately. "If you're so sure it'll work itself out, you must have a good relationship."
"Yeah…" His voice tailed off as he thought about what he and Karen did in her room that day. And boy, did it feel good! "…We do have a good relationship."
She shifted about next to him before getting more comfortable. "I don't wanna be sent to a shrink."
"It's ok, we shouldn't have to worry about that for now." He assured her. "You're ok at the moment, and it isn't something I'm going to openly consider unless you get sick."
"I was pretty ill earlier."
"I know you were," Chris felt sleepy himself as she rubbed him down his chest in an affectionate way, "but I managed to pull you out of it, didn't I?"
Clara flitted her gaze back to the screen. "But you're not going to be there for me all the time."
"I don't know what you're suggesting." He just wanted to get pleasure from the fact that they were both huddled up together, enjoying each other's company and closeness. Maybe she was trying to tell him that he was right about wanting to send her off, but was that a good thing? "I wanna be there for you all the time, and if anything happens when I'm not there…"
"But you can't." She cut him off softly. "There are going to be times when I'm going to be in or out on my own. You can't control me."
"I don't wanna control you, sweetheart." He drew in a small sigh. "I'm just worried that things will happen when I'm not there. That's why I want you to stay here – so I know where you are."
"So you're just keeping me here, like a prisoner?"
"You're not a prisoner." He protested. "I will let you go out and about by yourself, but just not right now."
She sharply looked to him. "You let me run amok in the city centre with your debit card."
"Yeah, but that was before all these problems started." He put the film on pause so they didn't end up talking all the way through it. "I can't let you go anywhere without my permission, Clara, I just can't. I love you too much to do that."
"But I won't run away."
"I know you won't," Chris noted quietly, "but flashbacks…they make people do all sorts and the next one you have may make you wanna run away."
She peered down at the floor, shaking her head a little. "It's like you don't trust me and you don't want me to have any independence. I'm eighteen years old."
He tilted his head in confusion. He felt she was missing the point. It wasn't that he didn't trust her; he didn't trust her condition. "I do want you to have independence…"
"No, you don't." Clara swiftly got up and allowed her gaze to dart straight to him. "You're lying again."
"But I'm not…"
"Know what? I don't need you," she glared at him before moving towards her room's door, "I'm capable of looking after myself." And she disappeared into her room, shutting the door and locking it closed.
Chris remained relatively quiet and composed. Their relationship hadn't exactly gotten worse – it was just her condition and that she was saying and doing things that she otherwise wouldn't. He told himself to wait and see what she'd be like the next day. She was getting tired as well, which probably didn't help her.
She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she buried her face into her pillow. Her body was telling her to sleep, but how could she when she felt as bad as she did?
It came up to midnight.
Clara glided into a very short dress and slipped on a pair of ridiculously high-heels. She took a little bit of getting used to them but within minutes she got the hang of wearing them.
"He can't stop me from doing what I want," she told herself as she applied a sheer lip gloss, "this is what I wanna do and I'll be back before he knows anything about this."
After she'd dolled herself up, she got her clutch bag and tried to quietly sneak out. She couldn't see Chris anywhere, and assumed he'd gone to bed.
He only ever went to bed fairly late on a weekend night if he was tired enough. Either that or he wanted some time to think about what to do with her.
Opening the door to his room, she found him curled up in bed, deeply asleep. A small streak of light flashed across the carpet and onto the bedclothes that were covering him. He dimly stirred but he didn't wake up.
She smirked to herself. She would be heading outside – and he wouldn't know anything about it. She quietly closed the room's door, ensuring it didn't wake him, and then left.
Four o' clock in the morning.
Chris stirred awake, slowly sitting up in amongst the blankets. He was shocked at what time it was. Usually he'd sleep straight through if he was tired enough, but he assumed that what had gone on between him and Clara hadn't escaped him.
He rubbed his eyes, as they felt so heavy-lidded from sleep. He couldn't understand what was going on with her and he became very worried that the flashback had done more to her than he thought.
He wanted to help her, he really did, and the only way he could feel fully reassured that she was going to be ok was if he either kept her with him at all times or in a sheltered mental home.
He felt that if he maybe stayed with her long enough while she was sleeping, he could probably decide for himself. He quietly pushed the door to her room open, and was shocked to find that she'd made her bed and left.
He realised that she hadn't fully left as such, but she'd certainly disappeared from the flat. All trace of sleep had been wiped from him, and he quickly got himself dressed, got his car keys and went to find her.
He was not going to lose his own daughter.
Chris spent all of the early morning driving around each and every side street he could think of that Clara could've wandered down.
It seemed like it was going to turn out to be a particularly clear day, and the streetlights lit up the pavements they lined so she pretty much had nowhere to go without him finding her.
He presently came to a stop in one of the last side streets he was considering to look down, coming across a curled-up mass on the pavement.
Clara mumbled dimly as she felt a pair of bright lights glide onto her before shimmering off onto the dry pavement she was lying on. It made her head hurt, and the urge to be sick grew more. She tried to open her eyes, finding it useless when her body felt so heavy from the alcohol.
She felt herself get swept away. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, but there was something ethereal about it.
Chris lifted the lifeless body into his arms, holding her close to him as he carried her to his car and laid her down in the back. He wasn't sure how many she had, but she'd probably gone over her limit judging by how knocked out she was.
She was going to be on a lot of water when he took her back.
She wandered back into consciousness, and she felt the bright light from the filtering in sunshine hit her across her eyes.
The glare upset her stomach slightly, and she mumbled weakly from the disgusting feelings.
"It's ok, it's ok." A familiarly paternal voice spoke soothingly to her, helping her to sit up on her bed and lean slightly forwards.
"My tummy…"
A large plastic bowl was placed in front of her, and her insides were leaving her with no other option but to be sick into it.
Her guts gave an excruciating lurch, and she found herself ejecting the contents of them into the bowl.
She couldn't stop the chills that were racking her, and she was close to crying from how bad she felt.
Chris sadly kept beside her as she'd finished being sick, and he sat her back against the headboard when he took the bowl away from her so he could empty it. "Feel any better now?"
Clara nodded shakily, feeling herself zone out again. "You're mad at me…aren't you?"
He drew in a small breath, as he'd run the bowl under the cold water in the bathroom. "Well, no."
"But I left without you knowing anything about it."
He sat back down next to her on the bed, applying a coolly wet cloth to her forehead.
"I should've kept more of an eye on you." He admitted loosely. "And I guess I should expect some unstable behaviour coming from you."
"I am not unstable." Clara protested.
"So getting yourself completely wasted isn't considered unstable behaviour?" He stated matter-of-factly. "Then what is it exactly?" He'd had enough of trying to be sympathetic with her. By her not agreeing to his observations of how unwell she really was blew it for him.
"I just wanted to go out for fun," she noticed his eyes retained their uncharacteristic hardness, "without you interfering."
"Clara," Chris started in a weak voice, "right now I have to intervene. You're in no fit state to go out, dressed like that, on your own." It hurt him to see what she was doing to herself. She was seriously setting herself up for trouble, and by wearing what she was she was touting herself inappropriately.
Her behaviour was beginning to be unmanageable, and he was hugely tempted to send her away.
She peered down at the end of her dress, noticing it had gotten some trace of mud on it. The dress itself was made of quite a sheer fabric, and it was probably something that could only withstand a hand wash.
"I bet that cost a fair bit." He remarked, remembering the way he found her. "That was so stupid of you, so really stupid. What would've happened if I hadn't have woken up when I did and then gone out to look for you?"
She shrugged. "You would've found me eventually."
"This has gone too far now," he softly took hold of her hands, "and I wanna help you 'cause I love you."
"If you love me, why are you taking me out of your life?"
"I'm not, really, I'm not." He caressed the soft points of the insides of her wrists with his thumbs. "But you won't get better any other way. You have to go for some help."
She pulled her hands away from his. "Just as I was beginning to trust you again…"
"You can still trust me." Chris noted softly, his eyes not straying away from her for a split second. "What they do with you will not hurt you. They might not even have to do anything to you anyway, but you're getting worse without help and it's hurting me as well as you."
"I won't do anything ever again. I promise I won't…" She protested.
Her protest prompted him to wrap his arms around her and hug her close to his body. "I know, and I believe you when you say that," he stroked her down her back that was uncovered by the dress, "but what's happening is something you can't stop."
"I don't know how to." She sobbed against his shoulder, burying her nose into his musky-scented t-shirt. "I wanna do it without help."
He could only hold her there, caressing her down her back. He felt awful at not being able to do more for her. "I know you do, love."
Clara's sobs soon tailed off, as they continued to huddle up together on her bed. She was close to drifting off against him, feeling each and every stroke he dealt to her take the pain away.
Chris carefully laid her down on the bed, cupping her face softly as he made to get his mobile out and call for a doctor to see her. He didn't want to do it, he really didn't. But how else could he help her?