Hidden in plain sight Part.5
Clara had been lying in bed for hours, replaying every moment in her head. The way Alexia’s eyebrows had scrunched up in annoyance. How Ingrid had held her hand so gently like she might shatter if she let go. How Mapi had stayed by her side, no matter what she did or said.
She had lost control. Cried. Screamed until the doctors had no choice but to sedate her. Then they had left her alone, as if that would help. Since waking, she had spent every conscious moment trying to figure out how to escape the situation awaiting her.
Early in the morning, she’d already “talked” to the police and child protective services. Or at least, they had tried to talk to her. Clara refused to blame her father. No matter how much evidence they’d shoved in her face, she denied it all. Over and over again, she gave them explanations for her injuries. Excuses she’d practiced for years. If she buried it deep enough, maybe they would just let her go back to her life.
When they told her that her father had been arrested the day before, Clara got angry. Furious, even. He was being held pending trial, and no matter what she said, they were intent on convicting him of abuse. Abuse? He hadn’t done anything wrong.
“He’s the only one who stayed,” she whispered to the officers, her voice trembling. “He only disciplined me the way he saw fit. He said so. I made my mom leave us. He told me. We only have each other now. It has to stay that way.”
They had tried to explain that what he had done was wrong, that she hadn’t been the reason for her mom’s departure, that abuse was never justified, but it fell on deaf ears, Clara had already disconnected herself from the moment, retreating into her thoughts where she could control the narrative.
They are trying to paint her as a victim when she wasn’t, she wasn’t, she wasn’t, she refuses to be called as such, she’s just a daughter trying to do right by her dad, but they won’t let her see him, or even just talk to him no matter how hard she begged.
Since then, she had stayed in bed, the steady beeping of the machines in the room her only company. She barely blinked when nurses came in to check on her. They tried to talk to her, coaxing her to speak, but she remained blank-faced, refusing to respond or even turn her head in their direction.
She heard them whisper about her. The little abused girl in room 504. How her “monster” dad had treated her. How she seemed “brainwashed.” The words burrowed under her skin. She wanted to get up and scream at them, to demand how they dared to speak ill of her father, who had only done what was right. To make them stop treating her like some helpless child who couldn’t understand what had been done to her.
But she didn’t have the strength. She felt exhausted in ways she hadn’t before. She longed for sleep that wouldn’t come. No matter how still she lay or how long she kept her eyes closed, sleep evaded her. A cruel twist of fate.
Everything hurt, more than just her injuries, it felt like every inch of her skin had been rubbed raw and the smallest of touch felt like electricity running through her. She found herself nostalgic of the sedated state she’d been in before, floating in nothingness, where her darkest thoughts couldn’t reach her.
She’d felt at peace then, no expectations, no one to try and convince her of things she knew were wrong, no one to yell at her, to look at her with pity. No appearances to keep up with, she could just… be.
She didn’t react when the door opened again, assuming that another nurse had come to gawk at the abused kid in her wing, she kept her eyes directed at the same corner of the room she’d been staring at for hours.
But the person who entered sat in the chair next to her bed, she could hear their steady breathing over the hum of her heart monitor, could smell whiffs of a perfume she knew but couldn’t place. Curiosity won over her desire to be left alone, she turned her head, meeting Mapi’s eyes.
Clara raised an eyebrow at the defender sitting there, Mapi looked quite different from last night, gone was the tense woman, she sat there like this was just another day, like they weren’t staring at each other from the confine of a hospital room.
“No Ingrid, no Alexia?” she asked, tone light, but her eyes still darted to the door to her room, half-expecting one of them to barge in.
“No, just me Nena.” confirmed Mapi, keeping her eyes on Clara.
“Why?” Clara wondered aloud, she rarely saw Mapi without her other half, and the captain usually insisted on being part of all important conversations, like this one would undeniably be.
Mapi smiled softly at her, her hand coming to rest next to hers on the bed, close enough to feel her presence but careful not to touch. Clara stayed silent, but she appreciated the gesture, her eyes looking down at their hands before coming back up to look at her.
“I thought it’d be better for them not to be here today.” she said before adding “Alexia’s a fixer, and this, no matter how much she wishes, she can’t fix, and Ingrid, well.” She took a small pause smiling at the thought of her loving girlfriend “Well, Ingrid just wants to protect you, but you won’t let her yet, so that just leaves me.”
Clara hummed pensively, eyes darting between the door and their hands laying on her bed.
“Why are you here then?” she asks, raising her head to stare at Mapi, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “Why aren’t you with Ingrid?”
“I came to talk to you.” answers Mapi.
“About what?” she asks trying but failing at looking indifferent, they both know that this conversation won’t be any easier than the one from the night before, but Mapi hopes that the absence of the other two women will ease it.
Mapi’s smiling at her, her eyes softening, the same way she looks at Irene’s son when he has hurt himself and came to her, and Clara is torn between falling into the offered comfort and rejecting it all together.
“About you, about what happened if you wish, but more importantly about what you’ll do now” she answers, her hand coming up to lay on top of Clara’s.
It’s a small gesture, but somehow it terrifies her, she feels stuck in her bed, unable to leave it, to escape the room, the conversation she doesn’t want to have. She wishes she could run, but she just lays here.
“With your dad arrested, you can’t go home alone,” Mapi said. Her voice was calm and even, like she was explaining something simple, but Clara could feel the words breaking her apart. “Even if your 18th birthday is coming up, the law still considers you a minor for a few more months.”
She’d forgotten about that. Of course, with her dad gone, it’d be just her. Alone. The word echoed in her head, hollow and cold. She knew what would happen next, foster care. She’d heard the stories, seen the quiet, broken kids who came back from it. Some never came back at all. She couldn’t go. She wouldn’t. She just wanted her dad.
Mapi watched her carefully, her steady gaze picking up every shift in Clara’s expression, every flicker of emotion she couldn’t quite hide. She saw the moment Clara tensed, her small hand slipping out from under hers and retreating to grip the comforter. Her fingers twisted into the fabric with such force that her knuckles turned white.
Mapi’s chest tightened at the sight, but she stayed calm. She knew better than to push too hard, too fast. Lest last night situation happened all over again.
“Ingrid and I would like for you to come to our house.” Mapi tells her “When you’re better and they release you of course” she adds.
Clara’s eyes darted toward her, suspicion flickering in their depths. “Why?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She shook her head slightly, like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why would you want me to come to your house?”
Mapi let out a small noise, confusion and hurt mingling in her expression. “What do you mean, why?” she asked, her brows furrowing.
“Why do you want me there?” Clara pressed, her tone sharp despite the softness of her voice. She looked at Mapi like the suggestion was some kind of trick, something too good to be true.
“Because we care about you!” Mapi said, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. She leaned forward, her hand twitching toward Clara’s before pulling back. “Because we love you, and we want to help you,” she continued, her voice quieter now, almost pleading. “If you’ll let us.”
She wants to believe Mapi, she really does, but she can’t.
“I want to go back to my dad!” she insists.
Mapi’s smile was soft but sad, the kind that made Clara’s heart ache even more “I know you do Nena” she said gently “but you can’t, they won’t allow you to.”
Clara clenched her fists, willing the tears to stay put, but it was no use. Hot streaks rolled down her cheeks, her breaths hitching in uneven bursts. She tried to speak, to fight back, but all that came out was a strangled sound as she choked on the sobs she’d been holding back.
“I just want him Mapi” she finally managed to cry out between gasps “He’s my dad, please you have to understand, he’s all I have!”
Mapi hesitated, her arms half-raised as if unsure whether to reach out. Before she could decide, Clara made the choice for her, throwing herself into Mapi’s embrace with such force it startled them both. Her arms locked tightly around Mapi’s back, clinging like she might leave if she let go.
Mapi froze momentarily, caught off guard, but then her instincts took over. She wrapped her arms around Clara, holding her securely as though shielding her from the world. One hand rested on Clara’s head, her fingers moving gently through her hair. She shifted, sliding onto the bed to pull Clara into her lap, lifting her with ease.
“I’ve got you.” Mapi murmured softly, her voice steady and low, the way you might comfort a child waking from a nightmare. “I’ve got you, Nena.”
Clara didn’t answer. She buried her face into Mapi’s shoulder, letting the sobs come freely now. The weight of everything she’d held in for so long poured out, leaving her trembling in Mapi’s arms.
The room was silent except for Clara’s muffled sobs and the rhythmic sound of Mapi’s hand moving gently through her hair. Mapi didn’t rush her, didn’t try to fill the silence with words. She just held her, letting her cry it out, anchoring her in the storm.
After what felt like an eternity, Clara’s sobs began to quiet, her breaths still hitching but less erratic now. She didn’t let go, though. Her grip on Mapi’s shirt stayed firm, as if she feared everything might fall apart the moment she loosened her hold.
When she finally pulled her head back, her face was streaked with tears, her eyes red and puffy. She sniffled, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she mumbled, her voice hoarse.
Mapi shook her head immediately. “No, Nena, don’t apologize.” She reached out, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Clara’s ear. “You’ve been holding too much inside. You needed to let it out.”
Clara’s lips quivered, but she bit down on them, trying to regain some semblance of control. “I don’t know what to do,” she admitted in a whisper, her voice trembling. “Everything feels… broken.”
Mapi’s heart ached at the words, but she met Clara’s gaze, her own steady and warm. “I know it feels like that now,” she said softly, “but you don’t have to figure it all out on your own. That’s why Ingrid and I want you to stay with us. So we can help you piece it back together, step by step.”
Clara looked down at her hands, her fingers still fidgeting with the comforter. “I don’t want to be a burden,” she murmured.
“You won’t be,” Mapi replied firmly. “You’re not, you’ve never been one.” She placed a hand over Clara’s, stilling her restless movements. “You’re family to us, Clara. That’s what family does, we take care of each other.”
Clara swallowed hard, her throat tight. The word “family” felt foreign, almost too big to grasp. It wasn’t something she was used to, not in the way Mapi seemed to mean it.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked, her voice small, her doubt clear.
Mapi nodded without hesitation. “I do,” she said. “And so does Ingrid. We both care about you more than you know.” She paused, giving Clara’s hand a gentle squeeze. “But it’s up to you, Nena. We’re not going to force you. If you don’t want to stay with us, we’ll find another way.”
Clara’s breath hitched again, though this time it wasn’t from tears. It was from the weight of the choice being placed in her hands.
“I just…” She hesitated, her voice faltering. “I don’t know if I can trust it. Trust you.”
Mapi’s expression softened, and she leaned in slightly, her voice low and steady. “That’s okay,” she said. “You don’t have to trust everything right now. We’ll show you, not just tell you. One day at a time.”
Clara stared at her, searching her face for any sign of insincerity, any crack in the warmth she was offering. But there was nothing there but patience and care.
And for the first time, the faintest flicker of hope sparked in her chest.
The flicker was fragile, threatening to extinguish with the slightest breeze, but it was there, a warmth she hadn’t felt in what seemed like forever. Clara took a shaky breath, her gaze shifting back to her hands tangled in the comforter. She didn’t respond immediately, her thoughts too loud, too jumbled to form words.
Mapi didn’t push. She stayed quiet, her hand still resting over Clara’s, offering her presence without demanding anything in return. Clara wasn’t used to this, someone waiting for her, someone letting her take her time. The silence wasn’t suffocating for once, it was a space where she could breathe, even if it was uneven and hesitant.
Finally, Clara lifted her eyes, meeting Mapi’s steady gaze. “What if I mess everything up?” she asked, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “What if you regret it?”
Mapi smiled gently, her eyes warm with understanding. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” she said simply. “Clara, you don’t have to be perfect. None of us are. You don’t have to prove anything to us, we’re here because we care, not because we expect you to be something you’re not.”
Clara blinked, her throat tightening again. The words were unfamiliar, like hearing a melody she’d forgotten long ago. She opened her mouth to respond but hesitated, the weight of everything she wanted to say too much to put into words.
Instead, she nodded, just once, her movements small and uncertain. It wasn’t a yes, not fully, but it wasn’t a no either. It was a step, however tentative, toward something she wasn’t sure she could name yet.
Mapi seemed to sense the significance of the gesture. Her smile widened slightly, a spark of relief crossing her features, but she didn’t make a big deal out of it. “That’s all I ask,” she said softly. “One step at a time, Nena.”
Clara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders sagging as if some of the weight she’d been carrying had lifted, even just a little. “Okay,” she whispered, the word barely audible but enough to crack through the walls she’d built around herself.
Mapi gave her hand one last gentle squeeze before pulling her back against her, letting Clara reclaim her space laying on her chest. “Whenever you’re ready,” she said, her tone as light as it was reassuring. “No rush. I’ll be here.”
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Clara believed her.
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