Chris went back home after work. It was deadly quiet when he got in.
Clara wasn't anywhere to be seen, and he fretted at the fact that she'd gone and broken her curfew yet again.
He checked his mobile, realising she'd left him a message.

"WILL BE BACK LATER. DIDN'T GO FAR. LOVE U XX"

Anger blazed within him. How dare she pull off something like that? He had to put more of a leash on her, and he didn't mean a literal one as such. He certainly had to control her before she did anything else like last time.
Goodness only knows what she'd attempt next.

Clara didn't come back until late evening. She got in through the flat door using the duplicate key she'd been given, finding Chris standing not too far away, seemingly knowing she was coming back. He had his arms folded across his broad chest in a dominant stance. "I can explain."

"You'd better." He noted, his eyes hardening a little.

"I got a job in the city centre."

"Doing what exactly?" He knew the sorts of jobs that only consisted of night work. Unless she did twilight work at the local store, he was certainly more worried.

She shrugged. "Does it matter? I earn, surely you can be happy for me in that respect."

"You're my daughter," he pointed out, following her into her room as she went to unpack the bag she'd taken, "and I'm asking you to tell me."

She shifted about awkwardly on her bed as she fished out a tube of lip-gloss and a pair of glitzy earrings she'd been wearing. "You wouldn't like it if I told you."

"I'm already starting to not like it."

She shivered at the anger in his voice. She didn't want to hurt him, but she did have understated talents – why not show them? "You'll throw me out on the streets if I did that."

"I won't throw you out." Chris's voice flitted from angry to remarkably placid. How he did that she'd never know. "You know full well I wouldn't do that. But I have a right to know what you're getting yourself into, 'cause I really want you to stay here so we can be a proper family."

"And vegetate all day?" Clara shot back, suddenly feeling infuriated with him. "It's ok for you, you've got money and you don't have to use anyone else's. But when it comes down to me, I don't have any money and I have to rely on you all the while."

"It's not like I mind forking money out for you. You shouldn't have to feel that way." He replied. "But I don't want you working late doing things I don't want you to."

She refrained from telling him. "I hate you." She stated icily. "I hate the way you control me and flit your emotions from one state to another."

He watched her get up off her bed. "I want you to stop working there – whichever club or bar you work in." He knew that when she told him she hated him, she didn't mean it. "Then we can go back to the way we were before."

"Stop saying things like that," she wept out, prompting him to come further into the room, "I know full well you don't love me and you don't want me here."

He knew that she wasn't playing mind games with him at all. She was, really and truly, very unwell. That was what worried him all the more that she'd found work. It wasn't that he didn't want her to find and have a job, of course not. But it was the fact that anything could happen to her.
His worry definitely grew when she started to pack.

"If you don't want me to have a job, then I may as well go."

"It isn't the fact that you've got a job that worries me though, Clara," he explained, "it's the fact that you're doing something that could potentially get you into trouble." He especially didn't like the idea of his little girl getting involved in something dangerous.

Clara shook her head, seemingly ignoring what Chris was telling her. She continued folding up her clothes and trying to make room for them in her bag, when she felt something wrap around her waist and found herself being pulled against an equally warm yet slightly larger body.

He tore her away from what she was doing and sat her down on the bed so as to stop her. "Now you listen to me," he firmly stated, "you are not going anywhere, you're staying here. So I want you to stop all of this."

She refused to even look into his eyes, even though he was perched right next to her on the bed.

"Clara, I don't want anything to happen to you, can't you see that?" His voice came out so expressively, revealing such pain and emotion within it that it shocked her inside. "If you were well enough, I'd let you do whatever you want, but I can't."

She felt his arm wrap around the back of her waist and pull her close against him. "I am well enough…"

"You're not." He didn't care how often he had to drum that information into her; he was going to keep telling her till she accepted it. "However many times I'm going to get you to see that, I'll tell you again and again. You're not well enough to go anywhere without me knowing."

She pulled herself out of his hug and moved off the bed where he remained. "I'm not an invalid and you can't make me stay here all day. You can't do much about it anyway, 'cause you've got a job you go to day in and day out. I can go wherever I want during that time and you won't be able to stop me."

Chris remained quiet for some time. He had to admit that she had him there. He can't be there for her twenty-four seven, nor did he want to be. He knew full well that she wouldn't approve of him practically doing everything for her. "Then I guess there's only one thing for it."

Clara shook her head. "I can't go to a mental home. You can't make me if I refuse to go…"

"We should go to the doctor first," he ignored her protest, "so he can see for himself that you're unwell."

She said nothing. That wouldn't be so bad if he only took her to a specialist. Even if he decided the best plan of action would be to take her to a mental home, she still wouldn't make things easy for either of them. Well, she'd happily sit through any tests the doctor would want to do with her, but she wouldn't let either of them take her somewhere she didn't want to.

"Ok?" He maintained a dominant stance, his eyes steadily fixed onto hers. "Shall we do that?"

She drew in a small sigh and nodded. That didn't mean that she was going to like what was going to happen or she was going to go along with it.

They both sat together in the surgery's waiting room the next morning. It wasn't that busy and he was surprised he managed to get a same-day appointment with the doctor he'd called out that time.

"He might not have to do very much with you," he reassured her, "he could well just wanna ask you a few questions but he won't do anything to hurt you."

Clara said nothing, but folded her arms across her chest. She was only going along to stop Chris from keeping on at her to see someone and at least satiate him in that respect.

When it was their turn to be seen, he pulled her up out of her sitting position. "Come on now," he urged her, "don't make things hard for either of us already."

She could only scowl at him, but that didn't make much of an impact. She allowed him to tow her to the doctor's room and hesitantly sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

"Well, well," the doctor leant further over his desk, "you don't look at all well, Clara."

Chris heavily sat down in the chair next to her.

"You look exhausted." He noted to him.

"I feel it."

Frowning, the doctor came out from behind his desk and placed a hand on the younger male's shoulder. "I can see what you've come to me about." He told him softly. "Give me a few minutes alone with her…take yourself outside and relax."

He nodded dimly and left Clara alone with him.

"Right then," he sat on the then unoccupied chair next to her, "let's see what's making you unwell."
After checking her vitals over, he went back behind his desk and took out a piece of paper from one of his drawers.
"What I want you to do now is go through each question and tick the most relevant box." He explained. "Then when you're done, give that form back to me and I'll have a talk with your dad."

After she'd done all that, she handed the form back to the doctor, who took it from her straightaway to go through the ticked boxes.

"Wait outside for a few minutes, Clara," he started softly, "and ask your dad to come back in."

She slowly got up off the chair, and went straight over to Chris, who was close to falling asleep in his chair. "Doctor wants to talk to you." She spoke bluntly, sitting on the one next to him.

He peered over at her, watching her fold her arms across her chest and seemingly stare into space. She'd done her bit.
After taking his place in front of the doctor in his room, he sat closer to him. "What did you do with her?"

"I asked her to go through a form that I use for all patients exhibiting mental or anxiety disorders." He explained. "There's no clear way of saying this, but…"

"But what?" He lowered an eyebrow in concern. "What she has is quite bad, is that what you're saying?"

"She has a form of post-traumatic stress. It seems to be something that could be fairly deep-rooted," he noted gravely, "which means that she's had it for some time…before even meeting you. But it also means she'd need strictly controlled therapy."

"But I've seen the way she is," he protested, "and that's all stemming from the shock?"

"Everything considered, yes." The doctor nodded. "Post-traumatic stress can bring about all sorts of things – unnatural things. You've already said yourself that her behaviour's becoming more erratic, and if you find it hard to control her, then the only other thing that'd work is if she's taken to a more secure unit."

Chris drew in a small sigh.

"You don't seem convinced."

"It isn't that," he noted softly, "it's just that I know she won't take to the idea of being taken somewhere she doesn't wanna go."

"This is no longer on a voluntary basis." He pointed out. "This is compulsory. She's exhibiting signs where she's putting herself in danger."

He felt that hit him quite hard. It was almost as though he was saying that what he was doing had made her get into that state in the first place.

"I can call the unit explaining Clara's condition and for her to be admitted immediately." He continued. "What I would do for now is wait outside with her…don't tell her where she's going else she'll lose control. The unit will send out someone to come here and collect her. She won't know anything and it won't become apparent to her where she's going."

Chris sat next to Clara, who didn't even look at him when he did so.

"Why have we got to wait again?"

He knew he couldn't tell her the truth. "He wanted to go through your answers."

"I thought that was why he asked you back in."

He didn't expect her to catch him out so soon, if at all. "He's only making sure, that's all. I shouldn't worry."

She could sense something wasn't quite right with him. Ok, he was fairly tired from having to deal with her, but what he was exhibiting wasn't tiredness. It appeared to be more nervousness.

She watched his eyes dart this way and that, and that only raised her suspicions all the more. "He isn't going over my answers at all…is he?" She sharply got out of her chair, her eyes taking on a more expressionless look. She couldn't believe he was fibbing to her again, even if he was doing so for her best interests.

"Clara, you have to stay here." He carefully pointed out, not wanting to have to resort to pulling her back down or raising his voice to force her to do what he wanted her to. He knew that only made her worse.

"He's sending me away," she added, shivering slightly, "and you agreed to it."

"I didn't agree to it." He protested, looking to her. "He says it's better for you to go somewhere else."

"I was right all along," Clara wept out, "you don't love me and you don't want me here."

"Clara…"

"I'm not staying here with someone who doesn't love me." She edged further away from him, disappearing from the surgery through the front entrance.