where the poison is | parker & clara

If she was honest, this group project was the last thing she wanted to do today. Yeah, it had to be done otherwise her grades would suffer without the credit, but after the last two days, all she wanted to do was crawl back under her fluffy duvet and pretend she wasn't really a person until she drifted back off into another nice, long sleep. When she was unconscious, she didn't have to deal. And that was by far the most attractive thing about sleep as of late. Normally, Clara can't rest for longer than four or so hours before her racing thoughts jolt her awake and force her to do something. She's never been the type to spend an entire day in bed, but god, that's all she wanted to do right now. 

It had taken her almost twenty minutes to work up the nerve to push herself to her feet. She couldn't be bothered to shower, simply putting on a bit of eye liner in hopes it would hide the dark circles and tying her hair into a tight knot on the top of her head. Her laundry wasn't done, so she just pulled over one of her lacrosse hoodies and slipped into the best smelling pair of leggings she could find, and headed out of her dorm without even remembering her text book. Her mind raced, but her thoughts weren't focused. They were scattered and spread out, jumping from one thing to the next in a long train of anxiety and sadness. 

Everything on campus just reminds her of Cleo. She spots the corner of the field where she'd just practiced three days ago, her sister running beside her as they raced to score against the other half of their team. She'd given her shit for her half-assed pass that nearly cost them the game and Cleo made some snide comment about Clara's sloppy footwork. The memory makes her eyes sting. The thought of never hearing another witty remark from her sister causes a lump to form in her throat. The lack of control she has over all these emotions makes her grit her teeth as she pushes through the nervous crowd of lower classmen as they carry their belongings out in troves. Lockdown starts tonight as well as the curfew. Fuck, she thinks, I still have to pack. Yet another thing on a long list of stuff Clara hasn't been able to work up the courage to do. The idea of going back home and staying in a house with her parents makes her nauseated. She's worked her ass off to get out of that place, and being forced to go back while they mourn the loss of their favorite daughter is just the last thing Clara needs right now. 

I need Naomi, she thinks, looking toward her room's window from the sidewalk as she jogs across campus now. She checks her watch and groans as she realizes she's already fifteen minutes late. Please don't hate me, please don't hate me, please don't hate me. Clara chants over and over in her head as she weaves in and out of the crowded walkways, taking a hard right as soon as she passes the Art building, knowing Parker's dorm is just up the block. 

A few minutes later and she's knocking against the door, breathless and frazzled. Parker's the definition of chill, though, across the room on her knees as she reaches under the bed for something out of view. "Sorry I'm late, I just... lost track of time." A lie, mostly. She just wasn't keeping track, head beneath the covers, pretending she had no responsibilities. But her face lights up, as much as it can when her eyes are swollen and her cheeks are puffy from crying hours on end, but something like a smile spreads across her face as Parker offers up a joint. 

"Yes, please," Clara eagerly enters, shutting and locking the door behind her. She's no stranger to breaking the rules or illegal substances, and though weed wasn't usually her go-to, she'll take anything at this point. "You're a life-saver, you know that, right?" Tears swell in the corners of her eyes as she stares out over the edge of a cliff called nervous breakdown. "I just haven't had any time," she exhales sharply, trying not to let the flood gates open because if they do again, she's afraid she may never stop. "Or any brain power, really. I can't focus on anything, I'm sorry. You know me, I don't not do my part for a project,  I just-" her voice cracks and she goes quiet, before any more words cause her to start sobbing. 

"Just light that thing, will you?" She lets out a deflated laugh and falls to her knees in front of Parker, looking up at her like she's a life raft in the middle of the ocean that Clara's been floating in alone for days.