Author's Note: Angsty expression. Chris is my mom and Claire is me
Genre: Angst/general
Rating: Kplus for depression
Characters: Claire, Chris
Summay: People handle their pain as best they can. Claire knows that. She just doesn't know what to do with Chris anymore.
Self Hypnosis
By: Mazzie May
"Chris? Chris. Chris!" It's no use. He's not listening and she knows he's not because he never is, but she can't help it anyway. "Why do you do this?" she mumbles.
Chris just stares out at nothing in the sky as Claire stands uselessly behind him in the doorway. It happens sometimes, when Chris can't take it, when his mind shuts down. His body suffers through a lot on it's own; he doesn't sleep, just goes and goes until he can't anymore. He's grown sickly looking. For a while, his muscle mass was slowly disappearing, but she managed to get him into weight lifting again. But he's still waxy looking, the bags under his eyes look more like green and yellow bruises and his hair's a mess, sloppily cut with scissors.
Eyes are the worst. They're not even blue anymore, just this kind of… this heavy, solid colour. Blood shot and squinty from spending too much time in front of the computer, and when he looks at you he's not really looking at you.
Lights are on, but nobody's home.
Claire's grown used to that. The proud, witty, outgoing big brother of awesomeness she once cherished and adored is gone. Faded into the depressed, quiet, paranoid man of obsession and determination she looks at everyday. She can go on like this, though, because someday, someday, she tells herself, he'll be better again. He'll be healthy and loud again and they'll be happy.
Yeah, right.
Her optimism is quickly slapped back on nights like this. Nights when he stands outside their house slash hideout in the middle of the Arizona desert, and just stares. At nothing.
In the beginning, she'd been terrified. She'd been scared that he'd finally gone over the edge, and she'd tried to coax him back inside gently at first, then forcefully pushing and pulling until she's crying and screaming and begging, tugging on his shirt, asking him what's wrong with him, and that she'll do anything just as long as he stops being like this.
By morning he's fine again. Doesn't remember the night before, either. When she recalls it for him, in total disbelief, he apologizes. Hugs her, holds her, promises it won't happen again. She's only a girl who wants her brother. Claire believes him.
Years have gone by now and he still does it. Like right now.
She leans against the sliding glass doorframe, watching him watch the sky. She calls to him a little, wondering why it has to be this way, why everything went wrong, and why the hell wasn't she enough to bring him out of this twisted self-hypnosis.
Her eyes begin to sting again, that hot, prickling feeling that promises tears. Claire's not a crier, but it's Chris and she's scared for him, for them.
She hates Umbrella, she hates Wesker. She wants them to pay for what they've done to the world, to the survivors. More than any of that, though, she just wants them to give back her big brother. She wanted Chris to come save her, take her away from all this and now she's not sure who's in more distress.
His shoulder twitches, no other movement.
Her biggest fear is that he might really loose it and go to a place he can never come back from.
Unfortunately for the both of them, he already had.
Author's Note: Poor Claire. Poor me. Get yourself better, Mama, because I don't know what to do with you anymore.
R&R please, any commentary appreciated