CLARITY

||25|| Twenty-Nine

Chapter song: Let You Go by Joshua Bassett

C H A P T E R   T W E N T Y - F I V E
Clarity POV

I think I've made a mistake. A terrible mistake.

A week. That's how long I've gone without seeing or talking to Olias. He's stopped trying to contact me since three days ago. My phone hasn't rung and texts haven't come through.

I've messed up and I don't think I can fix what I've broken.

Christmas is tomorrow and I've never been in this much of a Grinch mood during the holidays. I guess I'm the grump now.

Staring at the front door of my old house, I pause. I don't even know why I'm here.

It's vacant, of course. I wonder if they cleaned anything in it. A yellow police tape blocks the front but finds the spare key from inside the broken piece of wood in the porch to unlock the door.

It's been so long since I've seen the inside, four months, I think. And it looks just how it was when mom kicked me out.

Trashed.

I switch on the light in the living room and scan the garbage everywhere. Fighting the urge to clean it.

It reminds me of the first time I saw Olias room. It was just as bad, but I knew he needed help. And I was willing to give it to him. It was worth touching his moldy food on the bedside table after seeing the smile on his face when he walked in.

I make my way upstairs, stopping by the bathroom. I heard it was where they found my mom. In the bathroom, where I've always found her mixed, only, conscious.

Swallowing, I lower my head and walk down the hall to my room, seeing the wooden Clarity sign I hung up when I was younger.

The door is already open so I just walk in, laying my eyes on my old bedroom.

I miss it. Having a space of my own.

Walking to my desk, I eye my favorite books stacked in a small pile. Beside them is my journal, sitting in the last place I remember it being. I started writing journals when my dad left, it was a way of coping I guess.

My phone dings and I jump, just like every time my phone dings now. The possibility of it being Olias.

But it's just Natalie.

Nat: Where you go? I'm making dinner, you want a plate? The only correct answer is yes.

I tap my finger against the side of the phone before answering.

Me: I'll be back later, save me some?

She responds with a thumbs-up emoji and I slip my phone back in my pants pocket. Picking up my journal and walking to my bed, I plop down. Nervousness travels down my spine for some reason. I haven't read these in so long.

A beaten-up bear sits beside me. One I've had for as long as I can remember. I take it, hugging it as I open my journal.

It's one of my older ones, it seems. The year on the front page reading 2014. I was around eleven then.