" This is it??"

Nobody would ever experience true shock, apart from Lia. I, myself experienced it after I reached her mother's location, but I can for sure say it was never as tough as Lia's.

I'd rather drive her away from our location and situation than let her live it.

"Are you sure, Ross?" She faced me, still holding my hand as I looked down in sorrow.

"I'm sorry," I tried to utter out, rubbing my squinted eyes before looking at her, "but yes, that is it."

"My entire life...I suffered from a fucked up mind my entire life because of the bitch who gave birth to me to later on find out that she works at a fucking bar??!!"

"Well...do you still want to go inside?"

"Hell, yeah I do!"

I couldn't even catch up with her as she barged inside, standing I front of a few people.

"Clara Thompson?"

"ID?"

"Clara Thompson. Where is Clara Thompson?"

I didn't know whether I should be overprotective or proud of her...

Seeing her have the courage to call out for her mother's name in a bar...meant she's came a long way.

A lady approached us with a confused expression on her face...

Which matches Lia's.

I walked to her slowly, my eyes unable to focus on one face.

They ok a lot a lot alike...and yet they're two polar words.

"Can I help you?"

"I mean you could've done so seventeen years ago," Lia held her hair to the side, shifting her gaze onto the exact same hair color framing Clara's face.

"Lia?"

She left her hair, raising her chin slightly as her eyes dilated, clearly defeating her nervousness,

"Yes, the girl you gave birth to only to throw away later on."

"What are you-"

"I can't believe I spent my entire life shattered for a like you."

The more she spoke, the higher her voice got...

The more nervous Clara grew.

"Can we talk outside?"

She hesitated, her frown prominent still as she turned to face me.

-Go- I mouthed, nodding as my hands laid on her back.

I was in need of her full trust; trust that she's safe as long as she's with me.

Following them out, my heart raced out of my chest, trying to comprehend the otherworldly situation.

A girl in search for a mom.

Oh, how the world has changed.

"Lia, you need to understand I was only sixteen then. I couldn't raise a child at that age," she spoke out just as I closed the door behind us, making her scoff loudly.

"Oh, but you could raise dicks then couldn't you? Funny how you took better care of them too," she moved the flying strands away from her face, emphasizing her sad stares, "you could've gotten an abortion if you still had hoeing around in mind. You could've killed me when I had no life instead of killing the life in me."

"...I couldn't. I-I'm sorry."

"What can an apology change after 17 years, Clara? What can a fake apology change? You're not even the slightest bit guilty."

"You can't just say what-"

"If you really were sorry you would've searched for me...or are you still not capable of raising a child at the age of 30?" I held her hand, hearing her breath hitch slowly.

Interfere...it's alright.

"I think we should leave."

She nodded slowly, turning back to face her -now- muted mother.

What was there to say anyways?

"You now what? I guess it was for the best, Clara," she slowly walked backward already leaving her shallow headed mother, "wouldn't have wanted a slut like you as my mother anyways."

Her grip on my hand hardened...which ensured me that her ribs' grip on her heart did the same as well.

It clenched in relief, washing off every hatred she had towards her mother...a woman like her never mattered to her anymore.

"Not at all?!"

"Nothing. Almost as if the memory of her failed motherhood is replaced with my father's successful fatherhood," she smiled, turning to face as I took more notes. "Just as if letting you hold my heart cleaned every hard feelings and hatred."

She sat up on the lounge chair, her eyes burning into mine, making me look up at her. Her stare hypnotized me, and I knew too well then, there ain't no way I'm capable of escaping.

She stood in front of me, slowly walking her way towards the chair.

To say I was nervous would be an underestimated way of expressing my insane heart.

Because having her on my lap, letting her arms rest on my shoulder, letting her forehead rest against mine....was all way too much for my already drowning heart.

"I'm proud I was able to hand you my heart."

My numb lips parted, begging for a touch of hers...and yet I held it all in. "Why?"

Her face was inches away from mine, her hands on my cheek. "Because I know too well you'd take better care of it."

I've been stumbling on my feelings, trying to treat her as my patient...I thought claiming her as mine would grand me control.

I was wrong.

Her fingers grazed my lips slowly, never leaving my stare until her kiss was finally laid on my skin.

I couldn't ask for more than her soft lips placed on mine....

There wasn't a thing I enjoyed more than knowing too well that her heart danced with mine with equal passion.

She left my lips to stare back at me, her fingers still placed on my neck, grazing it sensually.

"Lia," I found myself whispering as my hands held her waist. "Will you be my therapist?"

She nodded, smiling, "Let's go to your parent's grave."

Sensations are just as bright

As a full moon's midnight light

And My heart is brave enough

To steal yours by it's scruff

"Alright," I mumbled, nodding. "Ask Michelle to close my floor."

My identity could mirror yours

Even through locked doors

Save my yearning heart's fantasist

And please become my Therapist