Chapter Text
"Clarke are you going or not?"
Clarke groans at the sound of her mothers voice. She looks over at her phone and winces at the entirely too bright screen to read that it is 4:00 a.m. She isn't religious in the slightest, but she knows it's a sin to be awake this early on a Sunday. When she agreed to help volunteer over the summer at the center where her mother works, she completely forgot that wake up calls at this unholy hour would be a regular thing.
"Yeah I'm going. Just give me 5 minutes.”
"I'm already running late Clarke. You know I need my caffeine fix, so if you want breakfast we need to leave now!"
Clarke let out another groan as she rolled out of bed; rubbing her deep blue eyes that she inherited from her father so hard, that she swore they would turn a shade of red. She put her blonde hair in a messy bun, and threw on a sweatshirt and jeans. She normally would put a little more effort into how she looks, but really it's not like the residents at the Arkadia Healthcare and Rehabilitation Center would care. It's not like they have their lives together; so Clarke would totally look the part. She instantly felt a pang a guilt for thinking for a brief second that she was better than them. She blames it on her tiredness. She really was in no place to judge, seeing how she still had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Her father, Jake Griffin left them when she was about three. She has no idea where he went or if he was even alive. He could be floating in space for all she knew, but she likes to imagine that he is out there somewhere. The only things she knows about her dad is from what her mother and her mother's friends have told her. That he was a talented artist, had a good sense of humor and apparently had a kind soul. (Obviously not too kind if he could just up and leave right?) She was the spitting image of him and she didn't know how to feel about that. Her mother, Dr. Abigail Griffin, is amazing at what she does and is loved and respected by all who know her. She is extremely hard working and Clarke sees it in her mother's eyes how demanding the job is on her, but that's her mom, always wanting to help others. Clarke inherited this gene from her. Clarke knew she didn't want to be a doctor but she loved helping people. This is the only reason she agreed to be her mother's lackey. (That and she knew the hours would look good on her transcript when she transfers to Polis U in the fall) She initially found the school intriguing because it had both a good art and medical program. Polis is a very diverse school that has many fields one could major in. So incase she didn't want to follow in one of her parents' footsteps, there were plenty of other options. It was also close to home, which was a bonus in the sense that Clarke could stay at home and avoid having to pay out of state tuition and room and board. But when it came down to it, she was just as lost as every resident of Arkadia.
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Her mom pulled the car into the parking lot of their local Donut shop. It's the only thing that was open this early so her mom could get a coffee, and Clarke a bagel. Clarke felt a little better that the guy who was giving them their treats and change looked to be about the same age as her, maybe a little older. Another poor soul up working at this untimely hour. He was very fit and had many tattoos in addition to his kind smile. Clarke could admit he was attractive. She was not blind after all. She appreciated both the male and female anatomy, and had studied both in an unprofessional manner before. But as kind as this guys smile was, Clarke didn't think about him any further. She was not ready to entertain the thought about another relationship or even just a good time after everything that had gone down the past year…
The clock in her mom's blue kia informed her that it was currently 4:29 a.m. Arkadia was about a forty minute drive from where they lived and Dr. Griffin was scheduled to work in thirty. Her mother sped up the car to 50 in a 40 mph zone but the streets were deserted, so she didn't think much of it. Clarke watched as trees, houses, and a few street lights began to blur past her. She continued to mindlessly stare out her window when she saw what appeared to be a girl sitting on the grass by the street curb; bent over with her head in her hands shaking. As quickly as she spotted the girl, she was now gone from her vision as her mother continued to drive; only slowing to a stop when they hit a red light at the intersection before the freeway.
"Mom. Turn around. I swear I saw a girl back there, and she looked like she was crying or needed help. She was sitting down and shaking mom, we have to go back."
"Clarke it's pitch black outside. How on earth could you tell all that from a glimpse?"
"Mom, just trust me. Please turn around.”
Her mom began making a U-turn and driving back up the way they came. A million thoughts began to race through Clarke's mind. Why was she crying? Why was she out at this time of day? Why was she alone? The car pulled up along the curb passenger side so Clarke was closest to the girl. Clarke didn’t want to get out of the car and scare her off, so she rolled down the window and stuck her head out slowly.
“Hey are you okay?”
The girl looked up. Clarke could see the startle in what appeared to be green eyes. It was hard to tell. They were clearly glassy from either alcohol or crying; no doubt a combination of the two. It was still pitch black outside, so Clarke could only make out her appearance from the little light that the right headlight of the car was giving. She had brown curly hair messily flowing past her shoulders. She appeared to be wearing a white V neck shirt and some shorts that were a little torn. She was sitting up at a 90 degree angle now.
“…Yes…I’m fine…”
Clarke instantly knew it was lie. The girl did try to display some confidence when she spoke. She gave her credit for trying. But the light break in her voice and the unshed tears starting to form made Clarke see through her act.
“Are you sure? Do you need us to call somebody for you? Can we give you a ride somewhere?”
The girl held one of her arms across and close to her stomach. With the other, she proceeded to pick up a white iPhone that was laying in the grass beside her, and held it up so the home screen was facing Clarke.
“No. I have a phone. See? I’m fine.”
“Please. You can tell me anything. I swear.” Why did I say that? Clarke thought. It's not like she is going to tell a random stranger all her problems. I know I wouldn't.
“I’m okay. Thank you. But I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
She gave a slow nod and a more believable
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?” God I sound like an idiot.
“Yes.”
“Okay then…”
Clarke rolled up her window and her mother slowly drove down the street close to the curb, and came to a stop about a block away from where they had left the girl.
“So what do you want to do Clarke? Do you want me to call the police?"
I don’t know mom. Clarke thought to herself. You’re the shrink. You are supposed to know what is going on in people’s heads. Clarke was at a complete loss of what to do. She saw a tear in the girl’s shorts and her mind instantly went to the dark place of rape. If she was raped, she knew that the police would make her re-hash the horrible situation. Most of the people never believe the victim and she didn’t want the girl to go through that. But at the same time, if she was raped then the bastard deserved to be caught and thrown in jail. But if she just had too much of a good time over the weekend and got herself hammered, then she didn’t want to be a narc and get her in trouble. But she was alone. What kind of friends would just leave her like that? Clarke was driving herself mad.
“I just want to do the right thing mom. Do you think calling the Police would help?”
“It certainly wouldn’t do any harm Clarke. The girl clearly needs help in some way.”
Clarke nodded, “You’re right. Call them”
Her mother didn’t call 911, but the local police department. It was a number she knew by heart, and she knew that they would get there and respond faster. While her mother was explaining the situation over the phone, she suddenly turned to Clarke.
“They want to know a guesstimate of her age. How old do you think she is?”
God. Clarke thought. She only looked to be about sixteen or seventeen. Clarke herself was only twenty but the girl seemed so much younger and fragile in comparison.
“I don’t know…16…17?”
Her mother relayed the information over the phone.
“They said they are sending someone out to look for her right now.”
Clarke hunched her shoulders and slouched further down in her seat. The somber expression didn’t go unnoticed by her mother.
“She will be fine Clarke. You did the right thing.”
Then why doesn’t it feel like it?
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It was noon, and Clarke had not gone a minute without thinking about the girl all day. She knew she did a good deed, but was wrapped with this strange overwhelming guilt and panic that had not ceased since abandoning the girl. Clarke noticed her mom walking down the hallway with files in hand.
“Mom. Can we please call back the police station to make sure they found the girl?”
“Clarke.” her mother sighed. “I’m sure they found her and that she is all right. I’m very busy. I don’t have time to call right now. Besides, they wouldn’t tell me any information anyway, these matters are confidential. If you want to call so badly, then feel free to do so.”
Clarke could feel her cheeks tint red in anger. “Mom you know that I get anxiety over talking on the phone! You know why I can’t do that!”
She saw her mom flinch and gave her an apologetic glance.
"…Please just call her…I need to know that she is safe.” Why is this need so strong?
Her mom let out another heavy sigh.
“All right.”
Clarke eagerly watched as her mom dialed the number and tried to listen in on the conversation. Her mother was just nodding and mainly giving one word mumbles in response, so Clarke was getting nothing out of the conversation, but was hanging on by every word.
“They said they found her. She is okay and they got her a cab home-"
“THAT’S IT? THEY JUST FOUND HER A RIDE HOME? I COULD HAVE DONE THAT!”
“Clarke. Honey please, that is all the information they gave me. If they didn’t escort her home or somewhere else, that means she is over eighteen, and obviously just had too much to drink. You don’t need to worry about this anymore Clarke. It’s handled.”
Now it was Clarke’s turn to breathe out a sigh. She was shocked to learn that the girl was over eighteen. She seemed so young. Obviously the broken state she had found her in had masked her age. That would mean she is around my age. She couldn’t be any older could she? Not that it mattered. Clarke was just relieved she was safe. Why do I care so much? Clarke started to bury her head back in her work but there was a thought that she could not shake from her mind.
Will I ever see her again?