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This is for anyone that needs to be reminded that you ARE enough. Keep fighting and never give up.
Trigger Warning
Clark contains scenes dealing with: PTSD, anxiety, depression, and thoughts of suicide. Please be advised and use caution before reading.
Morgan
They say that your life can change with a blink of an eye.
When I was six-years-old, I learned that whoever made up that saying, was telling the truth. Only, in my experience, it happened with an intake of a single breath and with the single beat of my heart.
ItwasaninstantrealizationthatIwouldneverbethesameagain. I remember every single detail of that fateful night, unaware until much later, of the drunk driver’s identity, and of the man that murdered my entire family. I’ve been told to take some solace in knowing that the driver died as well, but I could never do such a thing.
It might be easier, if it weren’t for the fact that I relive the accident every time I close my eyes.
My parents were coming back from picking me up from a friend’s house, because I didn’t want to stay the night. I hadn’t reached the point where I felt comfortable, staying over, so my lovely and supportive parents immediately came to my rescue, when I called.
I remember hearing my mother’s laugh, seeing my father’s smile, while hearing it, and my baby brother’s squeals in the car seat next to me in backseat. We were so happy, and there wasn’t a moment that I didn’t know that I was loved. I adored my family dearly, which is another reason why I wanted to come home.
have a lot of my demons, waiting for me, but I’m determined to overcome them.
I’mreadytofacemypast,andthen,layittorest.
Morgan
Standing outside, I suck in a deep breath, as I gaze up at my childhood home.
I’m still shocked Amelia, my aunt, kept it this whole time. When I told her my plans to move back to my hometown, she admitted that she didn’t sell the house, because she thought that I would be ready to face the past one day.
Shewasn’twrongwiththatassumption.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I try to fight the rush of memories from taking over. This place holds so much of my pain, but I know that I’m ready now to face it. I’ve been running from it for far too long, and I know that I won’t ever fully heal, until I face it head on.
However, justbecauseIknowwhatIneedtodo, itdoesn’tmake thisanyeasier .
I’ve thought about avoiding the accident that caused the untimely deaths of my family, but then again, I know that I can’t fully live my life the way I want, if I keep holding onto that single moment.
Years of therapy have taught me so many things, which is another reason why I became a therapist, too. Even though, I know every single trick in the book to find the peace I seek, I still struggle. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of my family, and of the things we could’ve had, if I had just stayed at my friend’s house that night.
home. I count myself lucky, since there was only one opening for my experience, as a therapist. I’m sure Oliver had a hand in me officially landing the job, and I’m grateful to have the chance to continue working. My first day starts soon, and I’m glad for it. I enjoy my job, and mainly, keeping myself busy.
Glancing around the house once more, I realize that I shouldn’t worry about not staying busy for a while.
Deciding on what to get started with, I turn, and then make my way back over to my bag. Before I can begin this tedious task, I’ll need supplies to hold me over. Not to mention, I’m going to need a lot of cleaning supplies.
Just as I reach my bag, I accidently kick it. Cursing under my breath, as the items inside fly out, I reach down, intending on replacing the items back where they go. However, the moment I pick up my little black planner, I hold it with both hands, staring at the page it landed on.
Reading over the address, I wonder if I should rip out the page, and then burn it. As I stare at the address, my heart begins to race, as I think about the man that killed my family. I went most of my life, uncaring of the drunk driver, but when I turned seventeen, I had to know who he was. I wanted to know every single detail about him, because I wanted him to be the monster I believed he was.
But what I found, made my hatred dissipate some. Charles was painted as a lovely family man, who came from a long line of wealth. However, Charles didn’t seem like the money hungry type. I read article after article of his generosity, and how much he did for his community.
When I learned all of this, I questioned so many things about that night. What happened to Charles to make him turn into a murderer, even in his death? Why was he even drinking that night, and why didn’t anyone bother to help him with his problem?
Shutting the planner, I shove it back into my bag, realizing the only way that I’ll ever know the answers to these questions, is to go to this address. I might not be able to ask Charles my burning questions, but his only daughter is still alive. She also lives just a few miles down the road from me, so all I need to do, is visit her.
All I have to do, is just speak to the daughter of the man that killed my family.
Shelby Ross.
Clark
Jerking awake, I quickly scan the room, making sure that I’m not back there again.
It takes me a long while, before I finally convince myself that I’m not back in war, and that I’m in my own home, where I’m safe. Using my hand, I wipe off the sweat, covering my forehead, as I try to catch my breath.
After a few moments, I swing my legs off of the bed, as I place both of my hands in my hair, and then rest my elbows on my knees. Even if I know I just came out of a nightmare, it doesn’t stop the utter panic from racing through me.
All my life, I’ve wanted just one thing. I’vewantedtohelppeople.
I wanted to do everything in my power to make everyone feel safe in their lives. My brothers used to tease me, because they thought I wanted to be like Superman. Honestly, they weren’t wrong, only I didn’t want to fly around in tights and a cape. I did, however, admire Superman, because he helped and saved many lives.
That’s all I wanted to do, when I decided to join the Army at eighteen.
Fuck,Iwishnowmorethanever,thatIhadn’tdonethat.
Getting out of bed, I know sleep won’t come for some time. I know the drill by now, so I grab a shirt, pull it over my head, and then, I make my way into the small kitchen. My apartment is small,
Cason changed a lot, when we were growing up, but he’s still the most dependable person that I know. His hard demeanor keeps people from getting too close, but for family, I know he’ll do whatever it takes to move mountains for us. It’s also so easy to tell the twins apart by not just their personalities, but because Cason always has a hat on, and he also has a scar on his right eyebrow. However, while Cas hasn’t found the love of his life, I’m sure it’ll happen for him soon.
It honestly seems to be the theme lately.
The last of us is Caleb, and I swear the guy is a genius. I’ll admit, he freaks me out sometimes with the knowledge he knows, but he’s the one that I’m closest with. We’re closer in age, and since Carter is ten years older than him, our age difference made it a little difficult to be as close as Carter, Caden, and Cason.
However, Caleb still surprises me the most. He graduated not that long ago from MIT, and he finally got the girl of his dreams. Honestly, I should’ve known Bethany was the one from him, since they’re so alike. I also know that Mama is on cloud nine, planning out their wedding.
Even with knowing all of this, I still find myself feeling, as if I’m the outcast now. It’s not that I don’t know that my family isn’t there for me, because they are. It’s just hard to see them all so happy, while I battle with my own demons every day.
Theyjustdon’tunderstandmeanymore.
I know how they all glance at me with worried eyes, and I feel their burning questions, begging to come out. It’s like they don’t know how to talk to me anymore, since I got back from my last deployment. Granted, I’m retired now, but that still doesn’t mean that I’m magically back to normal.
IfearthatI’llneverbenormalagain.
However, I know that I have to go see them. Not only will my mom whoop my ass with her damn wooden spoon, if I don’t, but also, because I’ve gotten used to the routine. At times, going over there every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed. It’s like a doubled edged sword, because no matter what I do, things just never seem to change.
Sitting at the table, I clench my jaw, hearing Shelby and Mama talking about the wedding plans for Caleb and Bethany. God, they’re so fucking happy, while I sit here with all of my pain and guilt. Even if we’re finished with our meal, it’s not uncommon for all of us to sit here, while we catch up.
I do, however, glance up, when Savannah interrupts them, as she claims they need to plan a baby shower, too. I smirk, thinking about Carter becoming a father soon. I’m happy for him, truly I am, because they deserve happiness. All of my brothers deserve a chance to be with the one person they love most in the world.
Ijustdon’tthinkit’llbeinthecardsforme.
“I’m still open to takin’ bets for the gender,” Caden claims, snapping me out of my thoughts.
Mama shakes her head, as she firmly states, “No, there will not be. No one is placin’ any bets on my first grandbaby.”
Shelby laughs, as Carter shakes his head, but Caden refuses to give up. “What’s wrong with a little fun, Mama? Come on, you know I’ll give you half of the prize money.”
“Boy, don’t make me get my spoon.”
Ducking my head, I look elsewhere, knowing how much that damn thing hurts. All of us have met the wrath of that spoon many times. Caden more so than the rest of us, but apparently, he’s seemed to have forgotten that tidbit.
“Now, why do you have to go and threaten me with that thing?” Caden asks, while leaning back in his chair.
“Son, listen to your mother,” Dad says, trying to get him to drop it.
“It wouldn’t matter anyway.” Shelby cuts in, and then adds, “I know what the gender is already.”
I frown, wondering what she’s talking about, because as far as I’m aware, they haven’t learned the sex of the baby yet. As Shelby stands, she places a hand on her belly, and a big grin crosses her
face. Carter does the same, and a rush of longing quickly races through me.
Dropping my head once more, I shake away the feeling, because I’m too fucked up to be thinking about having what my older brother does. I honestly wouldn’t want anyone to put up with my shit, because I can’t even deal with it either.
“She thinks the baby is a boy,” Savvy claims to everyone.
“I’ll bet boy then,” Bethany adds, and Mama huffs out her frustration.
“Don’t make Mama mad, Bet,” Caleb suggests, and it’s just like him to try and diffuse what’s coming.
“Don’t worry,” Bethany says, while turning to Caleb. “If Shelby says it’s a boy, then it’ll be a boy. It’s a sure win.” Shaking my head, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Bethany is up for a bet. She loves competition and loves to win, so this is probably making her day.
“Alright, then. I’ll put you down for boy,” Caden states, and then he actually pulls out a small notebook.
Hearing Cason sigh loudly, I glance to him, as he deadpans, “Great. Let’s just forget that Mama doesn’t want you to do this.”
Caden smiles widely, and then says, “I didn’t forget anythin’, Cas. I just think it’ll be fun, so don’t be a party pooper.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Party pooper.”
Letting out a groan, the entire family shakes their heads, because we know what’s about to happen. The twins are always fighting and bickering, and no amount of telling them to shut up will help. I don’t see how they can even live together in their apartment, since this is all that they do.
So, as the twins continue to argue, I glance up, noticing Caleb and Bethany having a moment, while Carter talks to Dad about work. Shelby, Savannah, and Mama talk about more wedding plans, and the upcoming baby shower. Everyone seems so lost in their own worlds, while I sit here, watching them.
It’s the strangest sensation, being around those you love, but then, feeling completely shut off from them at the same time.
Nodding once more, I turn back to the dishes, hoping I’m actually in the mood to play games later. My stomach clenches with nerves, as I think about going to see my new therapist at the VA clinic. It’s no secret that I’ve been talking to someone about my time in combat, but this is also the third therapist that I’ve seen. To be honest, I’m apprehensive about going, because I’m sure this will be nothing, but a waste of time.
Yetagain.
Letting out a sigh, I finish my task, and then I notice everyone is saying their goodbyes. Sucking in a deep breath, I realize that my distraction is indeed over, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. I don’t want to have down time to think and relive the past, but it seems this is my new life now, whether I want it to be or not.
Morgan
My heart begins to race, as I realize my next appointment will be here any moment.
I’m not sure why I’m so nervous, because I’ve done this multiple times before. Maybe, it’s because this is my first session of the day. Maybe, it’s because I know that the man coming, is suffering far worse than anyone has caught onto before.
It wasn’t hard to figure out that he’s yet to find the right person to help him cope with his time in combat just from his past records. I should be worried, since I’m currently his third therapist, but then again, sometimes it takes a while, before the right person comes along.
Ihopethat’swhatIcanbeforClarkHarlow.
Needing to settle my nerves, I make sure my office is perfectly put together. While I know my area is just how it needs to be, I have to get this nervous energy out somehow. Which is why, I rearrange the pens and notebooks on my desk. Then, I move over to the couch, close by the door, and then fluff the pillows. I just have this intense need to make sure Clark will be comfortable the moment he enters the room.
Turning around, I fix the small items, sitting on the coffee table, and then, I decide that the water pitcher needs refilling. Just as I begin to walk towards the water cooler, a knock sounds at the door.
“It’s not like you’re really here to help me anyway.” Watching him closely, he leans back against the couch, and then crosses his leg over his thigh, as he continues, “I’ve been here before, and I know how this goes. Sure, this is a different place with a different therapist, but the ending will never change.”
Ignoring the anger in his voice, I hesitantly ask, “Why do you feel this way?”
It’s imperative to understand his needs and feelings, versus what he’s projecting. Something deep down is telling me that this anger is only a cover for what’s really and truly going on inside of him.
“It’s not like you give a shit, so why would I tell you anythin’?”
Clenching my jaw, I glance down at the floor, as I try to find a way in. This session is turning into a huge disaster, and if I don’t do something soon, he may never come back. However, my silence must confirm what he’s already thinking, because he huffs out a sigh, and then stands.
My eyes track his every move, and I’m not even surprised that he reminds me of a caged animal. He needs to be set free, but I can’t help him do that, if he keeps fighting me.
“You know, you’re the third person that has claimed that they want to help me,” he says, but the tone of his voice sounds so detached. It sounds like a man that’s at his end with nowhere to turn. “I’ve done this song and dance so many times, and it’s all fuckin’ pointless.”
Unable to control my own anger, I state, “Just because someone else couldn’t reach you doesn’t mean that I can’t. I won’t coddle you, or tell you everything will be fine, because it won’t. It won’t, until you decide that you want my help.”
“What the fuck do you know?” He asks harshly, as he turns to face me. “I’ve seen and done things that no one should ever have to live with, so tell me. How are you goin’ to help me?”
I don’t get the chance to answer him, before he utters, “I’m unfixable, Miss Price. No amount of talkin’ or whatever the fuck this is will help me.”
My heart pounds in my chest, as I start to understand what he’s trying to tell me. While he’s been hostile and on edge, since the
moment he got here, it’s also a shield of some sort. He’s acting out, because he doesn’t know how to let that wall down, and it’s my job to make the first crack. After that, then those walls will begin to crumble.
“I don’t want to fix you, Clark.” With his frown and confused gaze, I add, “There’s nothing about you that needs to be fixed per say.” Glancing away, when the moment becomes too intense, I suck in a much-needed breath, before I claim, “I’m here to help you find a way to cope and to grieve for the things that you’ve lost. I’m here to offer advice and ways to deal with what you’ve been through. I’m not here to judge you, or to make you feel inadequate. That’s not my job.”
“What’s your job, then?” He softly asks, and I snap my gaze up. I swallow hard, realizing how close he is now, and for a long moment, he pulls me into this intense trance like state. “Tell me, Morgan, what’s your job, then?”
A part of me wants to ask if he feels what I am, because there’s no way this is one sided. Even if he’s hurting and angry, there’s something more going on here. Pushing down my own feelings, I hold his gaze, as I claim, “Sit down, and I’ll show you.”
He smirks, and for just a second, I think he might just do what I’ve asked. However, the moment those brown eyes glance away, I know that I’ve lost him. As he runs a hand through his hair, I clench my jaw, realizing that I’m getting too attached way too quickly.
So, when he drops his hand, and then turns his hard glare on me, I’m frozen in place, wondering why I can’t seem to do my job right, when it comes to him.
“I’ve had enough for today,” he states, and then before I can do or say anything to stop him, he walks right out of the door, slamming it shut behind him.
“Shit,” I utter, as I stare at the door over my shoulder. Honestly, that could’ve gone so much better, but I have a feeling Clark Harlow might just be the one person that I can’t reach. It’s happened a few times in my career, but this time, it feels so … personal.
I know every person is different, and that they deal with certain things in their own way. However, I can’t shake this need to run after him, and then wrap my arms around him. I hate sensing that I’ve failed him in some way, even though, I know that he wasn’t quite ready to open up to me.
Dropping my gaze from the door, I stand, and then run a hand through my hair. Disappointment and the sense of failure almost overwhelm me to the point of no return, and it makes me question everything about our session. Could I have done something differently to make him want to stay?
To be honest, I don’t think there’s anything I could’ve done to prevent this.
Getting an idea, I walk over by my desk, and then find his contact number. Before I talk myself out of messaging him, I quickly type out the message, and then send it. The moment that I do, I suck in a deep breath, hoping that he’ll write back. Staring at the text, I will it to be enough.
Me: I’m not giving up on you, so I’ll see you tomorrow.
I’m not sure how long I gaze at my phone, before it finally pings with a new message. My heart beats rapidly in my chest, as I find my own courage to actually open the damn thing to read it. Sucking in another deep breath to still myself, I read it.
Clark: Fine, but I’m not going to like it.
Smiling, once I read his response, I set my phone back down with renewed hope, flowing through me. I know this is just the beginning, but it’s my one shot to break down his thick and hard walls, surrounding him.
Clark
Unknown: I’m not giving up on you, so I’ll see you tomorrow.
Reading over the message Morgan sent me, I really and truly hope she means what she said. It’s been a few hours, since she first sent it, but I can’t seem to stop myself from reading over it again. Somehow, it makes me feel … okay, which is strange in itself. It could be, because she does seem genuine about reaching me, but then again, it might just be, because I’m attracted to her.
The moment I looked into her blue eyes, something inside of me broke free. It’s hard to explain it, and I’m still unsure of what it means. However, I know it’s important, even if I don’t fully understand it.
I can’t even lie and try to claim that I wasn’t instantly attracted to the beautiful and obviously smart, Morgan Price. I think that’s what shocked me the most, during our first session. Even if it didn’t go how I thought it would, I know that I’ll go back. Honestly, I feel like a fucking asshole for the way I treated her. It’s just … confusing to separate how I feel about the past, and what I’m feeling in the moment.
It’s almost like my past and present are colliding, and I don’t know how to stop it, or how to figure out everything that’s racing through me.
Even now, as I try to distract myself with my brothers and their better halves, I still can’t shake what Morgan forced me to feel. Maybe, that’s why I’m having so many thoughts about her now. There’s just something about her that calls to me, but I don’t have the slightest idea why.
Our session really bothered me, because she isn’t like the other two therapists I saw. The first one just wanted me to cry, and then wrote me off, when I did. The other just wanted to dope me up on pills that I refuse to take. Not to mention, the dick wouldn’t listen to me, when I claimed they were making me feel worse.
The point is, Morgan was the only one to show me that she’s only here to listen to me, and actually try to help me, even if I was an asshole to her.
Reading over her message one last time, I decide to stop wondering and just see what happens. I mean, it can’t get any worse than it already is, so I should at least try, right? Running a hand down my face, I ignore the laughs and smiles of my brothers, as I place my phone in my pocket. I thought that coming over to Caleb and Bethany’s apartment for game night would help me in some way, but it’s done the exact opposite.
The entire night, I’ve had to watch all of them be happy and carefree, while I wonder what the fuck is wrong with me. Why can’t I laugh along with them? Why can’t I stop thinking about the past, even if nothing around me is giving me a trigger? But most of all, why am I getting hit with so much envy?
I’m happy for all of my brothers, I really am, but this jealousy is starting to get to me. I want what they have. I want to feel happiness and love again, but I don’t know how to do that now. Not to mention, why would anyone want me, when I know that I’m broken.
Idon’twanttobea burdentoanyone, so Ihave tostopwanting thingsthatIcan’thave.
“Who are you talkin’ to, Cas?” Caden asks his twin, snapping me out of my thoughts. Glancing to Cason, I frown, realizing he’s actually smiling. It’s weird as fuck, because Cas hardly ever smiles. Honestly, it’s sort of creeping me out.