The house stood tauntingly staring down at Clara with it's stained glass eyes. Her thoughts roamed over what sat inside. She hadn't been in the new house just yet. Her father Matthew struggled to lift the overweight suitcase his wife had packed from the car beside her.

"Clara, you can go on inside." Matthew called with a strained breath as he lifted the hefty suitcase. Clara nodded slowly before walking sluggishly to the front door. Her pale hand fell onto the door handle without caution or regard.

The house's beautiful architecture was seen in every room, even more so in the foyer. Clara's eyes met the staircase almost instantly. She stepped up onto the first step with slow precision. She hadn't lived anywhere except the condo, therefore the stairs were going to be something she'd have to grow used to.

Matthew and Annie found this particular home after they found out she was pregnant. Enough room to extend the family and live comfortably. They also moved from Georgia because they were looking for a change of scenery and what a change this was.

A smile tugged at the corners of Clara's mouth as she reached the bedroom that she assumed to be hers. She looked at the boxes that were stacked against the moron colored walls, and her bed that had already been set up in the middle of the room. Clara closed the door to the room and walked to the window that looked over the backyard, the gazebo that sat in a awkward place of the yard drew her attention.

Clara's eyes locked onto the gazebo. She thought that it would be a great place to sit and write. Her hazel eyes sparkled in the dying light of the midday sun. Her wavy light brown hair hung down past her shoulders. Her pale skin held not a single flaw except the small scar on her neck.

Annie sat in the kitchen holding a tightlipped smile as Moira smiled back at her. Moira had all but demanded that Annie hire her as the maid. Annie had never needed a maid before, but she also had never lived in such a big house, so being backed into a corner she agreed.

"We'll be happy to have you, Moira." Annie brightened her smile as she lifted from her chair.

"I'll start tomorrow, Mrs. Gray." Annie had already insisted that Moira call her by her first name, but it seemed to be useless. Moira gave another weak smile before she left her standing in the kitchen alone.

Clara found herself sitting in the gazebo. She paced around the circumference of it tracing her thin fingers along the treated wood. Her eyes searched for nothing particular as she let them fall on the house as she stood in the opening of the gazebo. But as she gazed into her window she saw a young man.

His face alabaster, his eyes dark, his hair blonde. He looked stricken with remorse and undoubtedly miserable. Clara stood there staring up at him without so much as a breath. Both of them didn't move an inch for all of two minutes. Just before Clara was about to force herself to do something the young man walked away from the window.

Clara ran through the yard and into the kitchen. She caught the stair rail and pulled herself up the stairs. When she reached her room she busted through the closed door to find one of her boxes open and her stuff neatly placed atop the dresser. Her body went rigid with fear, and excitement.

Clara looked over the things that had mysteriously ended up on the dresser. Two photos that she had taken for art class, her great-grandmothers jewelry box full of her old necklaces and earrings that Clara only gazed at from time to time since she never wore jewelry. Her leather bound journal with all of her poems and short stories, opened to the short story she had written of the girl who had been betrayed by her true love, a story that came from her not so distant past.

Clara felt embarrassed, she had never intended for anyone to read that. Her eyes darted around her room with panic. After she realized she was alone she slammed the journal shut and started to unpack her room.

She wanted to know who he was, and where the hell he went. But the day passed quickly and she hadn't caught a single sight of him since that afternoon. But, his pale image lay burned in her brain. When she closed her eyes she saw him, the sad, beautiful boy.

Matthew placed a plate on the table in the dinning room, then another, and as he placed the last he smiled. This was nice, he could work from home, with his own office. His growing family was safe and sound and he was happy. He hadn't been for the longest time, just because there was no room for happiness in his life, up until now.

Annie slipped her thin fingers around Matthew's shoulders. She squeezed until she heard the groan of comfort from her husband. Matthew turned to her with a wide grin still staining his face.

"Have you seen Clara?" Annie asked him. There was a tone of concern in her voice that automatically brought Matthew's grin to a small smile.

"Not since this morning, maybe she's unpacking." Matthew slid past Annie's large stomach to walk into the kitchen. He placed his hands on the cold granite counter.

"Do you think she likes the house?" Annie persisted with her worries. Matthew rubbed his face with his right hand, feeling the prickle of his stubble covered chin.

"Well, why don't you ask her? But, regardless I know she'll want to be back in Georgia." He sighed. There was a good reason they moved all the way to Los Angeles, and that reason was a very serious one.

Annie let out a long sigh before she found her way to the staircase. She stepped up slowly holding onto the rail with care. As she came upon Clara's closed door she gave it a small tap.

A few seconds passed before Clara opened the door with the look of fear on her white face. "What is it?" Clara murmured.

"Family dinner, to celebrate, is something the matter?" Annie asked her very secretive daughter. Clara shook her head quickly, as she had always done. Even when her world was spinning to the ground she refused to tell her own mother about it.

Clara slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her. She followed her mother down the stairs taking her free hand to help her down the stairs. The dinning room was fairly large and right off the kitchen. Matthew was placing the meal in the middle of the table when the women walked in.

Matthew pulled out two chairs and awaited each lady to sit, then he pushed them in. Clara watched the candle in the middle of the table with great concentration. Matthew sat down and looked from each person in front of him.

"So Clara, your thoughts on the house?" He mused at his daughter. He was a reasonable father, not to suffocating, but vigilant of her actions.

"I think it's to big." Was her initial and almost automatic response. Matthew smiled at the obvious rebellion she possessed.

"Well, that's something we'll all adjust to over time." He said with a small nod. Clara sneered in response.

"Why can't we live in Georgia?" Clara questioned in a low tone. Annie looked up from her plate in utter shock.

"Have you already forgotten, it's been what, two months?" Annie held her eyes with Matthew for a long moment after she asked Clara the question.

"Long enough for the scar to heal? And what you want to go back to that life, to him?" Annie was in tears that spilled before she even finished speaking. She rose from her chair with a quick motion and left the room without another look at Clara.

"Why would you do this to your mother?" Matthew muttered as he slowly rose from his chair. Clara scoffed at the air in front of her before she laid her burning eyes on her father.

"I don't want to go back to him, I just want to be home." She growled with a bloodcurdling glare burning holes into her father's face.

Matthew sighed rubbing his face once more while he turned from Clara. "This is your home." Matthew said just before he walked out of the door. Clara let her face fall into her right hand as she traced the risen piece of skin on her neck with the left. The scar that was given to her by someone she thought she loved.

Clara slumped up the stairs wrapping her fingers in the hem of her shirt all the while with frustration. As she opened her door she found herself staring at the last box in the room. The one that she just couldn't leave behind, the one that she couldn't bare to open. Clara carried it to the closet and sat it inside with a last glance to the vans sticker on the top.

After a long shower and a change of clothes Clara was in her bed looking out of the window in which she had seen the boy. As she closed her eyes she saw him, his face stood out in the blackness as she drifted off to sleep.

Matthew sat in the chair in his office going over everything he had written that night. Two pages of complete and utter roundabout words and nothing more. He let out a long sigh before he drew back in his seat. He was foolish to think that everything that had happened would just vanish with the move. He needed to find a therapist for his daughter and he needed to help the problem instead of avoiding it.

Annie rolled over on the bed, rubbing her large stomach gently. She knew that this time around, raising a child, she'd do it right. She loved Clara more than anything, but somewhere deep inside she was still blaming herself for everything that had happened.