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Clarissa's Log





Ideas

- Her uncle's confrontation with her father
- Father's death
- Anger towards her Uncle
- Running away from home
- Joining Club Serpentine

The night of her uncle's confrontation with her father

Clairmont house

Age 18

"Does Uncle Jonas really have to come over for a visit?" Clarissa always disliked it when her uncle would come to her and her parents' house. She scoffed at the very idea of it. She had recently graduated from Cogworks, so she supposed that was why he was coming over tonight. To congratulate her, so to speak. Even though she didn't like Uncle Jonas, she always tried her best to be pleasant around him.

Her parents had told her the story when she was a child: Phoebe, her mother, Wesley, her father, and Jonas, who was Wesley's younger brother, all went to Cogworks together. Jonas became infatuated with Phoebe, but she didn't feel the same way about him. She fell in love with Wesley instead. This made Jonas incredibly jealous and bitter towards her father. Maybe, she thought, that was why she didn't like him. He couldn't just accept her parents' marriage and move on.

"Come on now, Lissa. You know that your uncle visits us often." Her mother's voice was stern but gentle as she spoke. It was true. Uncle Jonas did come to visit often, but it didn't mean that she looked forward to it each time. In fact, she felt like it got more awkward and uncomfortable with each visit. She didn't know if her parents sensed it either, though.

"Besides, he's my brother. You may not like it, but's he family." Her father agreed with her mother. In Clarissa's mind, her father was a saint compared to her uncle. She was surprised that he put up with Jonas's attitude each and every time. Another reason to love her father more than she already did.

Clarissa rolled her eyes. "I know, I know" she said with a twinge of annoyance in her voice. "It's just that he's not exactly the kindest person ever. There's just something that feels off about him. But maybe that's just me talking." She plopped herself on the couch, a sigh escaping her lips.

Her mother took a seat next to her, placing her hand on Clarissa's shoulder. "Don't worry, dear. As long as we remain pleasant and keep the peace, everything will be fine" she reassured her daughter.

"You've seen him plenty of times. Another visit won't hurt you, Clarissa" her father said.

Clarissa gave a small smile. "Okay. I'll do it for you guys."

"That's my girl" her mother said, smiling back and giving Clarissa a hug.

Then a knock was heard on the door. It must be him Clarissa thought. "I'll get it." Her father walked to the door and opened it. And sure enough, there was Jonas, standing there in the doorframe. "Jonas, come in."

"Thank you, Wesley" he said simply. He walked into the living room, glancing at Clarissa's mother. "Hello, Phoebe. It's nice to see you again."

Her mother gave a small smile. "Hi, Jonas. It's nice to see you, too."

Jonas shifted his gaze, his eyes landing on Clarissa. He gave her a wry smile. "Hello, Clarissa. How's my favorite niece?" His tone seemed genuine, but Clarissa wasn't sure if he meant it or if it was just an act in order to be pleasant.

For Mom and Dad. She made eye contact, smiling back. "Uncle Jonas, hello. It's good to see you." A lie. She quickly spoke again. "I'm doing well, thank you for asking."

"May I take a seat?" Jonas asked in a polite tone.

"Well of course." Wesley gestured to the couch, indicating that he was allowed to sit.

Uncle Jonas took a seat next to Phoebe and Clarissa, remaining silent for a few moments. Clarissa sighed to herself. Great. It was already awkward enough. Now he's sitting next to me and my mother? She still smiled though, wanting to remain pleasant and keep the peace between everyone.

"So, what brings you here tonight, Jonas?" her mother asked in a kind and polite tone. Clarissa most likely knew why he was here. Her mother probably just wanted to keep the conversation going so that there was no silence.

"Well Phoebe," Uncle Jonas spoke, making eye contact with Clarissa again, "I came to see Clarissa. I know that she graduated from Cogworks recently, and I wanted to congratulate her on such a wonderful achievement. I'm sorry that I couldn't be at the ceremony. Something came up that your aunt and I had to attend to."

Uncle Joans meant it, at least that's what Clarissa thought. "Thank you, Uncle Jonas. That means a lot to me. And don't worry about it. It was probably just like any other graduation ceremony." Although whether or not he was just being pleasant she wasn't sure. But she figured she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. At least for now.

Her father smiled. "Speaking of which, how's Valerie? I haven't spoken to her in a while."

Jonas smiled back. "She's doing well. Thank you for asking, Wesley. She had to work later than usual, so that's why she couldn't come tonight. But I'll tell her that you said hi when I get back home."

It was unusual, Clarissa thought, for her Aunt Valerie to not show up. She always came over when Uncle Jonas did. That was what made his visits more bearable - she was the kind one, and Clarissa loved her very much. But with her being a medic, she supposed that it wasn't a surprise that she was busy with such a demanding job.

"We would appreciate that very much, Jonas" Wesley said.

So far, so good. The visit was going the way Clarissa had expected it to - a little awkward but normal and pleasant nonetheless.

Uncle Jonas stood up from the couch, pacing back and forth. "Which reminds me. I came here for another reason. Not just to celebrate Clarissa. But you and Phoebe as well. It will be your wedding anniversary soon, correct?"

"Yes. Almost twenty years ago" her father replied. He smiled at her mother, and she smiled back.

A grin spread across Jonas's face. "That's great to hear. I'm happy for you, really I am. My question is though, do you still feel the same way about each as you did all those years ago?"

Clarissa had a puzzled look on her face. What was he talking about? Surely the answer would've been yes, right. She wasn't sure why, but she had a feeling that she didn't like the direction this was heading.

Wesley frowned, confused by Jonas's question. Of course we still love each other. Why would ask that?"

Uncle Jonas seemed lost in his thoughts, brushing them off before smiling again and speaking. "I was just wondering. I want make sure that two are happy and okay."

"Well, that's really kind of you, Jonas. But you don't need to worry about us, really. We're just perfectly fine" Phoebe said.

"Good." That was all Jonas could manage to say about. Clarissa noticed a single tear on his face. Oh no. Is he seriously crying right now? Why? This can't be good.

Her father's expression changed from confusion to concern as he looked at his brother. "Are you okay, Jonas? Do you need to take another seat?"

Jonas quickly wiped the tear away, putting on another smile. "No, I'm fine. Thank you for your offer, though. That's very thoughtful of you, Wesley. You're a good brother. I guess that I was just reminded of some not so fond memories at Cogworks."

Clarissa looked at her mother's face. She could tell by her expression that she felt bad for her uncle. "Look Jonas. if this is about what happened at Cogworks-"

“Phoebe, don’t start that.” Clarissa was surprised by her uncle’s tone of voice. A moment ago he was kind and pleasant. Now he seemed to be more angry with each passing minute.

Her mother protested. “But Jonas, listen to me. I just wanted to apologize to you-”

“I said enough, Phoebe!” He cut her off again harshly. Clarissa frowned, staring into Jonas’s eyes. They seemed cold, full of hate, anger, and jealousy. She had never seen this side of him, and she didn’t like it at all.

“Don’t talk to Phoebe that way.” This was the first time Clarissa had ever seen her father genuinely angry. He had always put up with Uncle Jonas. But now he reached his breaking point with his brother.

Jonas scoffed. “This doesn’t concern you, Wesley. This is exclusively between me and Phoebe, so stay out of it.”

“Actually, it does concern me, Jonas. I’m her husband. And you’re my brother. I deserve to know what goes on between you two as well.”

“Just stop talking, Wesley.” Jonas was clearly starting to get angry and annoyed. What was going on? Why was he acting like this all of the sudden? If her uncle didn’t scare her before, he sure scared Clarissa now.

“Jonas, may I please finish speaking?” Her mother’s tone was still sweet and genuine. Bless her soul, Clarissa thought. How did I get such a kind and forgiving mother?

Jonas took a deep breath, regaining his composure before speaking again. “My apologies for that outburst you two. You may proceed, Phoebe.”

“You are forgiven” her father said.

Her mother cleared her throat. “Look, I just wanted to apologize to you. I should’ve then, and I am now. But I just didn’t feel the same way about you, Jonas. I know it’s been a long time, but I hope you understand and that you will forgive me.”

Jonas clenched his fists and teeth, a laugh escaping his lips. “Oh, so now you apologize to me? Give me a break. You’re right though, Phoebe. You should’ve apologized the first chance you had. Not forgiven.” His voice was cold, not seeming to care anymore. “I love Valerie, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still hurt by your rejection.” Suddenly, he reached into his pocket, revealing a pistol.

The room was still, as if it was frozen in time. Clarissa was horrified, terrified that her uncle could kill her mother or father at any minute. She could tell her parents were scared, too, but her father remained calm. “Jonas, put it down now. Let’s just forget about it and move on. Please.”

Her mother chimed in. “Don’t do anything, Jonas. Just relax” she agreed.

Without saying another word, Jonas aimed at her father and pulled the trigger.

Clarissa froze. She wanted to scream, but she couldn’t. Her father was hit in the shoulder, his arm stiff as he fell to the ground. Surprisingly though, he didn’t cry in pain. Her mother shrieked tears streaming down her face as she held her husband. Clarissa began to cry too, rushing to her father’s side.

Jonas’s eyes widened in horror. “Great Lantas, what have I done?” Clarissa stared at her uncle, noticing that tears were falling down his face, too. “I’m so sorry, Wesley, I don’t know what came over me, I-” But before he could finish his sentence, he dropped the pistol and ran off.

Coward! Clarissa growled to herself. She looked at the pistol, walking over to it and picking it up. She decided to keep it, not wanting to forget the night her uncle almost killed her father. She helped her mother lift her father up, running as fast as they could to get medical care for him. This night went horribly. And Clarissa knew it.

Father’s Death
Clairmont House
Age 21

Clarissa had woken up earlier than usual this morning. Her father had been sick for a while now, and she was starting to worry about him. A few weeks ago, it started with minor symptoms; a cough, a sore throat. But it slowly progressed into aching all over his body and his health had started to decline. Clarissa was puzzled. Her father was a healthy person. How did this happen? Well, she had her suspicions. Ever since the night that her Uncle Jonas had shot her father in the shoulder, his health was never the same.

Clarissa felt horrible for her father. She wished there was more that she could do to help him make him feel better. But she couldn’t. Her mother was usually gone at work for most of the day, and today was no exception. So Clarissa had to be one to care for her father while she was away. Which wasn’t a big deal, she supposed. She definitely grew more stressed and anxious as the days went by, though. She appreciated the hard work her mother had done to provide for her family, really. But she wished that her mother had more time to help her care for her father, especially now more than ever. It was all up to Clarissa.

She walked into the kitchen, deciding to make some oatmeal for her father. She gathered the ingredients and began to cook.The smell of the cinnamon and fruits wafted in the air, and Clarissa scrunched her nose to take in the scents. What a wonderful smell. Once the oatmeal was finished, she poured in two bowls, feeling hungry and wanting some herself.

Clarissa went upstairs to her parents’ bedroom, carrying the bowls of oatmeal in her hands. As she entered the room, she saw her father Wesley and smiled at him. “Hi Dad.” Her father looked at her, smiling back. “Hi, Clarissa” he said in an enthusiastic tone. She placed his bowl of porridge next to his bedside table. “I made some oatmeal for you.” Her father’s smile was wider, taking the bowl. “Thank you, sweetie. That’s very thoughtful of you.” Clarissa smiled again. “You’re welcome Dad.”

She sat in a chair next to her parents’ bed, deciding to eat with her father and chat with him. She took a bite of the oatmeal, indulging in the sweet flavor. “Have you talked to Uncle Jonas lately?” She wasn’t sure why she asked about him, given what happened. She supposed that is out of mere curiosity rather than genuine concern. Why should she be concerned for him, though? He almost killed her father, his own brother. Despicable.

Her father raised an eyebrow, surprised that she asked that. “Not much. He just kept apologizing and saying that he felt guilty about the situation. I reassured him that it was okay.”

Clarissa frowned as her father spoke. “You forgive him? But why?” she asked. “He’s my brother, Clarissa. I’m not the kind of person who holds grudges. I hope you understand that.” She nodded along as Wesley spoke. “I understand Dad.” He’s just lucky that Dad is so nice. I definitely don’t feel the same way.

After they finished eating, Clarissa gathered the bowls and went back downstairs into the kitchen to wash them. She scrubbed every inch of the bowls until they were clean and placed them on a rack to dry. She looked at the clock. 11 am. She went to her bedroom, grabbing a book from her bookshelf to pass the time.

As the hours went by, Clarissa went to check on her father. But when she entered her parents’ bedroom, she could immediately tell something was wrong. Her father was paler than usual and he was laying still. “Dad?” No response. She went in closer, walking to the bedside table. “Dad?” she repeated. Then she came to a horrible realization. He was dead. Her father was dead. Panic and sadness came all once, and she rushed to her room, tears streaming down her face.

I didn’t even get a chance to say I love you. If I would’ve known that this would happen, I would’ve told him. Now I have to tell Mom.

Later that night, Clarissa sat on the living room couch, waiting for her mother to return from work. Then she heard the door open. Her mother opened the door and smiled at Clarissa. “Hey Lissa.”

Clarissa walked over to her mother, giving her a hug. Phoebe was surprised, but she hugged back. “What’s wrong, honey?”

Clarissa didn’t even want to say the words out loud. She took a deep breath and wiped tears from her face. “Dad… he’s gone. He’s gone.” Her mother remained silent when Clarissa spoke. All she could was hug her again and grieve together.

Running Away from Home

Clairmont House

Age 22

Clarissa placed her elbows on her desk, her hands on her head. It was difficult, not having her father around anymore. Even a year later, she was still a mess. Same with her mother. Her mother especially took it hard. Clarissa would occasionally hear her cry a few rooms over or even downstairs. She felt horrible for her. She would try comforting her, but it didn't seem to help. And she couldn't exactly blame her.

There was only one person to blame, in her mind: her uncle. What a wretched man he is she hissed to herself. Although deep down, she knew that it wasn't technically true. But she would never forgive him for what he did to her father that night. She quickly dismissed the thought though, trying her best to ignore it.

Her and her mother had received word from Wesley’s side of the family that Uncle Jonas was officially cut off from them. And Clarissa and Phoebe did the same. Good. Serves him right for everything he did. He deserved it. She was free from her uncle’s constant visits. Free from his narcissism. Free from everything negative about him. And it was such an amazing feeling.

She remembered the last conversation she and her mother had with her uncle before they cut ties with him.

Wesley is dead, Jonas. How does that make you feel?
What kind of question is that? Of course I’m sad.
Then why did you shoot him?
Phoebe, please. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking, I-
It’s your fault, Uncle Jonas!
I didn’t kill him, Clarissa!
Maybe not. But ever since that happened, his health went downhill. He might’ve forgiven you, but I certainly don’t. And never will. I hope you realize that.
You don’t think I feel bad? I regret it so much. I know it will stick with me for the rest of my life. And I can’t take it back.
Oh, you regret it, do you? If you regret it so much, then why did you have the pistol in the first place? You clearly had every intention of killing Dad. I don’t buy it for a second.
I-
Nothing else to say, huh? What a surprise.
And did Valerie have anything to say about it?
I never told her.
You never told her? Why not? She needs to know the truth.
This is exactly why, Phoebe. Because she would be angry with me.
Well of course she would! Who wouldn’t? You shot your own brother! Who does that?
I’m sorry. I just wanted to make peace and apologize. I want things to be normal again.
Normal? Nothing will ever be normal again. This conversation is done. Goodbye, Uncle Jonas.
Clarissa, I think we should leave. Let’s go. Goodbye, Jonas

Uncle Jonas’s words buzzed in her head. She could still hear them as she went back to that moment. A rage burned within her. That man not only ruined her life, but her mother’s as well. Unable to control her anger, she slammed her fists on the desk, screaming at the top of her lungs. Fortunately for her, her mother was at work. Not that she wouldn’t have cared if she heard her, anyway.

Clarissa glanced around the room, seeing a picture of her and Jonas. She picked it up, examining it for a few moments. She scoffed, burning the picture with flames emerging from her hands until small flakes of ash scattered in the air and landed on the floor. She grinned to herself in satisfaction. Good riddance. I hope I never see you again.

There were a few loose pieces of paper and a pencil on her desk. She stared at them, letting herself drift in her thoughts for a brief moment. Then she made her decision. I have to leave. Now. I can't bear to see Mom like this anymore. She froze. No. What are you thinking? You can't just leave her. Not when she needs you the most. You're a horrible daughter. She brushed it off, deciding to go through with her plan.

Clarissa grabbed the pencil and a piece of paper, thinking about what to write. As she inched her hand closer to the paper, she stopped. Was she doing the right thing? Running off just like that? She shook her head and began writing:

Mom,

It breaks my heart to say this, but I have decided to leave. Please don't go looking for me. It would be too dangerous, especially with the gangs running around. But don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'll look for a place to live temporarily until I find a more permanent home.

If you hate me after this, I don't blame you. But right now I just need to be by myself and clear my head. Even if not now, I hope someday that you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

I love you,
Clarissa

She skimmed the note quickly, approving of it. She stood up from the chair and walked downstairs into the living room. She placed the note on the coffee table, going back to her room.

As she was packing her things, she thought of her mother. Poor Mom. She didn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve everything that has happened to her. And she doesn’t deserve me. She’s so much better than me. She deserves better.

When she finished packing, she stood in front of the door of the house, taking a deep breath before opening it. But not before she glanced back one last time. All of the memories she had made in this house would now be carried with her somewhere. Goodbye, Mom. I hope to see you again someday. With a sigh, she closed the door and left.

This was it. She wasn’t going back. And she wouldn’t look back. Ever. Again.