Storm 》Clifford A.U

030;

         WHEN I WAS LITTLE, my mother always used to say, страх настолько силен, насколько вы позволите. 

     If I had a bad dream, if I thought I was going to fail a test, if I was weary of being home alone, and especially, especially when I was left out in the storm and terrified of ever encountering one again. It essentially meant that fear is only as strong as you allow it to be. Right now, I was trying to hold on to her voice. I was letting it play on a loop in my head and I was letting it serve as a mantra because right now, I was fucking terrified. I was trying to piece everything together; what I had read in the pictures Michael sent me, what Olivia had said, and the look of fear on Ashton's face. All I was left with was an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. Neither of them had said anything for what felt like an eternity and the uncertainty just let the fear rise and rise up until I thought it was going to kill me. 

      I was no stranger to people trying to hide things from me. Ever since I had known Luke he had sheltered me from everyone at school because they were, to put it lightly, monumental assholes. They were worse especially after Darya had gone missing because someone was always whispering or spreading rumors. There was always a snide comment being made. I tried to ignore it but it was hard when nearly everyone was talking about it and that's a big part of the reason why I hated going to school lately. It was just too hard to focus or even want to do anything when I was worried about my sister and where she was and what she was doing and whether or not she was okay.

      My parents always tried to keep things from me too. Papa defended murders and thieves and all kinds of criminals that he tried to never speak about at home. And if ever a case took a turn for the worst, he didn't want any of us to be afraid of someone coming after us. Mama tried to hide all of her feelings, she tried to never let me see her cry. Even now, she was trying to hold it all together. But she had been doing it for so long now that her facade was staring to crumble. 

      Darya, too, was clearly an expert secret keeper for hiding Ashton, for hiding these other parts of herself, and for hiding whatever it is that had been happening with Papa. And Michael, well, he tried to hide just about everything from me. He was terrified of letting me in. 

       So really, I was used to it. I was used to people doing what they thought was right in order to protect me. I was used to being in the dark. But in this particular situation, I couldn't stand it. But I didn't know if I wanted to know what was going on, either. I was the one who asked Olivia here, I was the one who was reading the journal, I was the one who took it upon myself to do my own investigating. But did I want to know something that would change the way I looked at my dad completely? Finally, Ashton decides to say something.

     "Jesus," Ashton exhales, pressing his hands against his face. When he pulls them away, he lets out a bitter laugh. "I can't fucking believe you, Olivia."

     "I didn't-I didn't know," She sputters out desperately, dropping down to her knees and nearly throwing herself at Ashton. She wraps her arms around his legs and starts sobbing, chest heaving up and down. "I-I just thought that he would forbid her from seeing you or something. I thought I could ge-get you back. I didn't know." She says again, inhaling sharply. 

      Ashton steps away from her and comes over to me, resting a trembling hand on my shoulder. "She never told you, did she? Darya never spoke to you about your dad?" My lips part and wordlessly, I shake my head. She had stopped speaking to me as frequently as she used to all together, at least about anything important. It seemed like she had stopped trusting me with everything. Except for maybe that last day. Except for when she called me and I didn't answer the fucking phone. God, I wish I would have answered.