Full Summary: Life is difficult, Clara Welsh was well aware. But she was taught that there is always a silver lining in life. For her, it was her mutation. Although she didn't always saw her mutation in a positive light, Clara changed her mind when she realized what it made her. It made her especial, different from everybody else, something that she always longed for. But with her luck, Clara realized, it was also what could get her killed. Hiding her mutation has proven a challenge but she's managed... for most of her life. It isn't until she's put in a compromising position to do what's right or ensure her safety, Clara realizes both can cost her more than her life.
Chapter One: It's Normal
"We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell."
― Oscar Wilde
Growing up in an orphanage, Clara had learned to be grateful for what she had. She could have had worse.
Besides, growing up in an orphanage had its perks. For example, she had the opportunity live in a home with other children. It was almost like boarding school except their parents never came to visit them because either they were dead or had abandoned them. The rooms were in horrible shapes at times and sometimes the children weren't very nice to her. But it was fun at times. They could play games, meet new children, get to see different places when they were transferred.
But to perks there were disadvantages. She would never get a proper education, getting stuck in mediocre schools. The schools never really helped her in her math struggles. She would never have nice or new things. Everything she owned was third hand, being passed down from the second owner that had gotten it from a thrift shop.
Clara didn't care anymore. She had when she was five, a naive little girl that still hoping to go back to her parents, not aware that they would never come back, and get everything she thought she deserved. But now, Clara being slightly older, she had discovered the ugly truth. She was forced to realize that none of those privileges mattered, she had to focus on the necessities than the luxuries.
Fortunately for her, she had grown accustomed to the system of orphanages, having grown up in that system since she was a baby. Each orphanage was similar; same beds, same food, same rules, same expectations. Although some were better while others were worse, Clara had the chance to experience all types.
The first orphanage Clara was dropped off, at the age of two, she didn't remember that well. Nothing of there had particularly stood out, she vaguely remembered some crying. She was only there for two years before being moved to another orphanage that she stayed for three years. That one, unfortunately, she remembered clearly. It was the worst years of her life.
Clara had been thrilled when she was moved to another orphanage, due to the one she had been currently been living had too many children. The new one she had been taken to was a vast improvement from the previous. She was happy that she had stayed there for more than three years, a record for her.
Saint Elena's Orphanage, located in Chicago, was run by nuns who would force the children to Sunday mass every weekend and make them pray before they eat and pretty much anything. It was a small orphanage, with only twenty-five children at most. Boys and girls, all ranging from ages five to fifteen. Some would leave, later being replaced by another kid within a week. Clara was never one of those kids that got to leave, but she didn't mind. The orphanage was the only home she knew of.
Clara would try to ignore the horrible conditions of the orphanage. Like the place would be freezing cold in winter and scorching hot in the summer. There was no in between. Or the showers only had cold water and they always had a humid smell that at times made the kids throw up. Or rats would make their appearance in the middle of the night, which served as an insensitive to keep the children from sneaking off in the middle of the night.
Saint Elena's wasn't a horrible place. It's where she learned how to jump rope, where she made her first friends, where she discovered she was allergic to strawberries, where she learned how to pray. It was the first place where she felt safe and warm. It gave her hope that there were people that did want her.
Overall, Clara wasn't complaining. She could have had worse.
September 1955
Clara hated the cold. It always put her in a bad mood. Especially if she had been forced to go outside for fresh air right after she had gotten over the flu.
It will do you good the fresh air. Get some oxygen in your lungs, they told her when she had complained. It's not healthy for a young girl to get sick that often.
The irony. Getting sick a lot is not healthy. Clara knew that, and to please the nagging nuns, she did exactly what they told her. Be outside and get fresh air. And what had happened to her? She had been forced to sit.
The nuns tried to keep the sick children from the others, not wanting to cause an epidemic in the orphanage. Which made Clara wonder, what was the whole point of being outside if she couldn't join the other children to play?
She had been fine when she had been running around with the children, not feeling the cold. But sitting down on the porch, it felt like the cold was slapping her in the face for believing she wouldn't feel it.
She took a deep breath and blanched when she tasted the air. It was stale, despite being out in the yard. Clara pulled her coat tighter, trying to stop the cold from getting to her. The gloves and hat weren't really helping. Every time she would breath out, she would see how cold it was.
Clara watched the kids play kickball, a longing to be with them. If she was with them, she would have been in line waiting for her turn to kick the ball. She was positive she would have scored.
"Aren't you going to play with them?"
Clara looked up to see Sister Rosemary, one of the nuns, walking up to her. She was youngest of the nuns, in her late thirties. Being the youngest of the nuns made her the favorite of the children. Rosemary would bend the rules for them at times, allowing them to play a little longer when the bell rang, give them extra cookies if they did their chores and read them stories before they would go to sleep.
"Sister Karen told me to sit out," Clara sighed in frustration. "I didn't get a chance to play."
"Why?" Rosemary laughed.
She shrugged, playing with the ends of her faded blue scarf. "I don't know."
"Come on Clara, Sister Karen wouldn't have done that unless you did something."
"She was just being plain mean." She watched as Ron, one of the boys, catch the ball.
"Don't be ridiculous. Sister Karen isn't mean for no reason."
"Well, she was to me."
Rosemary raised her eyebrows, noticing her evasive behavior. "Clara is there something you're not telling me? Clara...?"
She hesitated for a second. "I threw up on Peter," she admitted, looking at her shoes, trying to hide her shame.
"You threw up again?" sighed Rosemary. It was well known that Clara was one of the children that got sick the most. One week it was a sore throat, the next it was the flu, and then at times, it was both. It was always something.
"It's just a headache this time. I ran a little too fast and I got dizzy," she defended herself. "And Peter casually happened to be there in front of me. It's his fault actually if you think about it."
"Maybe you should go—" Rosemary started suggesting but got caught off abruptly.
"No," Clara yelped. "Sister Karen let me stay. And you know that if she thinks it's okay for me to stay outside, I'm alright. I promised you I'm not going to throw up on anyone again. Please don't send me back inside."
Rosemary looked at her dubiously, not believing her. But seeing Clara's pleading look, she nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But if it gets worse, you will immediately get inside. It's not good for you to strain yourself. You're barely getting over the flu."
"I know," she sighed. "It's always something."
Rosemary patted Clara's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "You're a good kid."
Clara glanced at her, not sure how that was supposed to make her feel better but instead said, "I know."
"You're going to be running with then soon."
I doubt it but... "I know."
"Remember there's always a silver lining in life."
"What's the silver lining of me getting sick all the time?" Clara asked, looking at her expectantly. Rosemary didn't get a chance to answer, her attention forced to someone else.
"Help! Sister Rosemary! Help me!"
The scream made Rosemary look up and sigh in exasperation. "Excuse me, Clara." Rosemary went to help one of the kids who had gotten his head stuck between the fence. "Jonathan, what have I told you?"
Clara unconsciously tightened the grip from her coat. She could feel a familiar ache growing. If she focused, Clara could hear clearly what the kids were talking about but she didn't feel well. She got up, deciding she had enough of fresh air. Cleaning her coat from any dirt that she caught sitting on the porch, she got inside.
The house was silent, everybody outside playing. It made it easier for her to take a much needed nap. The moment her head touch the pillow, she fell asleep. It felt less than a minute when she felt someone shake her.
"Clara. Clara." Someone kept singing her voice, trying to wake her up.
"Shut up," she mumbled, swatting them away, annoyed. "Let me sleep."
"Clara, get up," the voice insisted. She placed the pillow over her head, in hopes to stop their voice. It only seemed to make them more insistence. "Clara get up!"
She shot up when she felt cold water splash on her back. Clara gasped at how awful it felt. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the lack of light in the bedroom. "What the heck?"
"Good, you're up. If that didn't work, I was going to throw you the chicken and that would have been bad. This chicken is scalding hot."
Clara saw that it was Naomi, one of the girls she shared her room with, was holding a plated out for her. Clara threw Naomi her pillow, that she dodge.
"Hey. I could have dropped the food."
"What is wrong with you Naomi? I'm going to get sick again."
Naomi's eyes widened comically. "Oh, my—! I forgot! I'm so sorry. Please don't tell Sister Karen. She'll ground me. You just wouldn't wake up. I didn't know what to do," she said defensively.
"Why are you here?" Clara tried to wipe the water from her body.
"Sister Rosemary was worried you would be hungry. You missed dinner," she explained when she saw Clara's lost expression.
"What time is it?"
"It's about to be nine, almost time to go to bed. You sleep for a really long time."
Clara nodded, looking at the window, outside already dark. Looking back, she saw Naomi still holding the plate patiently.
"Sorry," she murmured, grabbing the plate.
"It's fine," Naomi smiled, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry about the water. It was supposed to be for you to drink. I didn't think about getting you sick."
Clara raised her eyebrows. When did Naomi think? She was too impulsive. "Just don't do it again," she warned her. "I can't get sick again. Sister Karen will have me in house arrest."
Naomi nodded solemnly. "I heard you weren't feeling well."
Clara nodded, taking a bite of the steaming chicken. "Headache."
"Probably because of the cold," she offered, smiling sympathetically.
"Probably." But both of them knew it was because she was still sick. They didn't want to say it out loud for Clara's benefit.
"In case, you were wondering...—"
"I wasn't."
Naomi ignored her and continued talking. "You didn't miss much. We lost the game which made Caitlin very mad. Sister Karen had to put her in time out."
"Really?"
Naomi nodded vigorously. "It was funny. She made her pray for an hour because she 'used the lord's name in vain' or something like that."
"Seriously?" snorted Clara.
The bedroom door slammed open, making both girls look up. May, one of their roommates, entered. She closed the door with equal force, rattling the cross that was hanged near the door.
"Clara, you're awake," May greeted cheerfully. She stopped when she saw a soaked Clara. "Why are you wet?"
"Ask her." Clara shot Naomi a dark look, who simply winked cheekily, unapologetic.
"Figures." May bounced to them, jumping on the bed the other two were sitting on. May accidentally hit Naomi when she sat down.
"Jesus May, watch it." Naomi glared at the girl.
"Sorry," she chirped, not bothered by the other girl's grumpy behavior. "And you're not supposed to use our Lord's name in vain."
Naomi rolled her eyes. "You sound like Sister Karen."
"Where's Caitlin?" Clara asked, trying to stop a fight to happen between the two girls. Clara and her roommates got along, but May and Naomi often clashed, leaving the other two roommates to play referee between them.
"In the bathroom, showering," answered May. "Tom spilled milk on her hair on 'accident'."
"Really?" giggled Naomi. "That's the second time this week."
"Yep. He so likes her," bounced May, making Naomi stumble from the bed.
"May!" she cried out. "Gosh. Don't you have your own bed?"
"So do you," accused May. "Why are you in Clara's bed?"
"Because I was dropping off her lunch."
"Then why don't you move?"
"Because ...—"
Clara sighed, exasperated that they couldn't go a minute without arguing. She could try again to change the conversation but it would be in vain. She looked down when she realized that she had finished her food. A relief washed over her, finding an excuse to leave them, even though Caitlin and Clara had made a promise not to leave them alone.
"I'm going downstairs to drop the plate," Clara told them, getting up.
The girls ignore her, too busy bickering. Going downstairs to the kitchen, she saw that someone was there, the light turned on. Walking in hesitantly, she relaxed slightly that it was just the nuns. Both Sister Karen and Rosemary, were at the table, with cups in front of them. They stopped talking, looking up to see who it was.
"Clara did you get your dinner?" smiled Rosemary.
The other nun, Sister Karen, didn't smile, only observed her. She had always been the most severe out of the two nuns. Waiting for a mistake to happen so she could correct the children.
"Yes," Clara nodded, going to the sink to wash her dirty plate. "Thank you for the food. I'm sorry I missed dinner, I fell asleep."
"It's no problem," Rosemary waved her off. "You weren't going downstairs so I told Naomi to take it to you."
Clara smiled at her gratefully. "Thank you."
"You shouldn't thank me. Thank Sister Karen, it was her idea. I only ordered Naomi."
Clara finished drying off her plate, placing it back on the other plates. She turned and gave Karen a polite smile. "Thank you. The chicken was good."
Karen's only response was a nod.
Clara nodded to herself, not expecting anything more. "Well, I'm going to leave. Goodnight Sisters."
"Goodnight," Rosemary said back.
"Clara wait," Karen spoke up when she started walking out of the kitchen.
"Yes, Sister?" Clara turned around.
"Come here." Karen beckoned her. Glancing nervously at Rosemary, who gave her a reassuring smile, Clara walked up to Karen. In front of her, Karen grabbed her by the shoulders. "Your cheeks are flushed," observed Karen disapprovingly. "How long were you outside?"
"My head was smushed to the pillow," she told her nervously. "That's why I'm red."
Karen pursed her lips. "Is that so?"
"I got inside quickly."
Karen looked at Rosemary. "Did you see her get in Sister?"
"I was too busy with Jonathan to see when Clara got inside," Rosemary admitted. "But when I was done with Jonathan I saw that she was gone."
"I went to my room to sleep that's why I missed dinner and why my face is ..." She trailed off when she saw Karen stared at her face with an intensity.
"How many times have I told you, children, to sleep face forward?" Karen scolded her.
"I'm sorry," she quickly apologized. "I forgot, I had a headache and forgot."
Rosemary smiled at her gently. "It's fine Clara. Sister Karen was just being herself."
"You can go now Clara," Karen dismissed her.
Muttering another goodnight, Clara practically bolted out of the kitchen. Sister Karen always made her feel uneasy. She was always strict with Clara, watching everything she did. Upstairs, down the hallway, Clara could hear giggling and whispers coming from her room. They're too loud. They're going to get us in trouble. When she turned the door handle is when they finally silenced.
"Shut up." Clara heard May hiss.
"It's me," she told them when she slipped in the room. It was dark, the only light shining from the window.
"You scared us, Clara," Naomi chastised her.
"I could hear you guys across the hall," she told them. Clara couldn't see them but she could hear May fidget.
"I told you we were too loud."
"But it's Clara," Naomi reminded them, stretching her name. "She has a super good hearing. It's spooky at times."
"Like a bat, right Clara?" May whispered teasingly. They couldn't see Clara nodding distractedly, hearing everything perfectly. She was focused on collecting her necessities in the dark.
"You're so stupid May," Naomi retorted.
"Clara, come on," Caitlin spoke up.
That made Clara stop and squint in the darkness. "Caitlin? You're back from your shower?"
"Yeah. Came back and found these two alone, arguing. They were surprised to see you gone. Apparently, you left them alone." Clara could feel Caitlin's steely gaze.
"Uh... I'm going to the bathroom, I have to change and brush my teeth."
"Don't use the middle stall if you have to pee. The toilet isn't flushing," Caitlin warned you.
"Good luck," sang May a little too loudly.
"Shut up May," hissed Naomi. "You're going to get us in trouble again."
"That was Caitlin's fault last time. She was being too loud."
"That's because you stepped on my hand."
Clara rolled her eyes, thinking that it was all their fault. With May and Naomi's nonstop arguing about everything, Caitlin's loud obnoxious laughs and Clara's always shutting them up, she was surprised that they didn't in trouble that often.
The bathrooms, thankfully, were empty but were all wet and dirty. The boy's bathroom had stopped working two weeks ago, forcing the girls to share their bathroom with them. Every day there would be fights, the girls complaining at how messy the boys were and the boys complaining that the girls spend too much time in the showers. No matter how much they comprised, a fight would come up.
Clara and her roommates had decided it would be best to be the last ones to take a shower, not having to deal with the arguing. It was a great plan but the downside was that they never got warm water and they had to deal with the soggy towels and dirty soaps.
"Boys are disgusting," she muttered and hurried to change and brush her teeth. Clara tried to ignore the pungent smell that was coming from the toilets. She practically cried in relief when she took a breath of fresh air in the hallway.
As quietly as she could, Clara tipped toed to her room, trying not to wake up anybody. Inside her room, she dumped her other clothes into her bed and crawled over to where the girls were.
For the first time of the day, Clara smiled, feeling relaxed. It was rare for her to be at ease but these moments made her be like every other young person; carefree.
When the nuns would force all the children to go to sleep, the four roommates would get up after everybody was asleep and huddle up in the far corner from the room, where it would obscure them from view. They would make a small circle, talking and giggling about whatever happened that day. Clara had joined them in a middle of an argument.
"He's so dumb," Caitlin giggled.
"Yeah, all boys are," May agreed.
"Shut up May, you always complain about them but that doesn't stop you from pinning after Peter."
"Stop it. No, I don't," she said in a shrill voice.
"Yes, you do. It's so pathetic."
"I think Peter is stupid," argued May.
"You're only saying that because Caitlin said that," pointed out Naomi.
"No, I didn't."
"Do you have anything to say, Clara?" Caitlin asked.
She looked at the three of them, shaking her head. She didn't really speak, only listened to them when it came to those things. It was difficult to voice her opinion when Naomi and May started arguing, which was all the time.
"See? Can we move on?" pleaded May desperately.
"Absolutely not," Naomi shot her down. "Maybe Clara has nothing to say because she doesn't know what you guys were talking about."
"That boys are stupid and May absurdly agreed even when we all know she had the hots for Peter," Clara told them. "I know. I heard you guys."
"Like I said, super good hearing."
"Then what do you think; is Peter attractive, Clara?" Naomi asked slyly, shooting a look to May, whose face flushed a deep red.
"I never—"
"Hushed May," Caitlin silenced her. "What do you think Clara? As in you are ordered to tell us what you think."
Clara smiled at her authoritative tone. "Alright. Let me think about."
Peter was one of the boys that always behaved. He had always been too skinny and short. Clara didn't see what as great about him, he was plain boring just like every other boy in the orphanage but she didn't want to embarrass May. Caitlin and Naomi were already teasing her.
"He's alright," she said carefully.
Caitlin laughed gleefully. "See? Even Clara agree with us. Peter is ugly."
"No, she didn't. She said he was alright."
"Which is code for that he's ugly," Naomi smirked.
"Shut your mouth, Naomi. Don't you ever shut up?"
Clara cringed at May's sharp voice, making her close her eyes, leaning against the wall, feeling a familiar wave of nausea.
"Clara?" Naomi asked. "Not feeling well again?"
"I'm fine." She opened her eyes, seeing that they were looking at her. "I'm fine, just resting."
May rolled her eyes. "Honestly Naomi, did you expect Clara to say? She's not fine? She could be dying and she would still say she's fine."
"I'm not dying," Clara denied quickly.
"You better not," Caitlin grinned at her. "Who's going to help me in math?"
"Not May," snorted Naomi, earning a hard slap on the shoulder. "Ouch. That hurt May. It was a joke."
"I didn't find it funny."
"Because you don't have a sense of humor."
"Shut up," Clara mumbled, not appreciating how their voices made her throbbing headache worse. They didn't hear her, too caught up in their argument. Clara looked around desperately, feeling extremely warm.
Don't throw up. Don't throw up, she chanted. Having enough, she stood up and announced, "I'm going to bed."
"What? No!" whined Caitlin, throwing herself on the floor. "We can stop talking about boys."
"No, it's fine. I'm tired."
"You just took a five-hour nap," Naomi pointed out. "You out of all of us, she is the most energetic."
"Sorry to disappoint." Clara shrugged and went to her bed. She could hear them groaning and telling her to get back, stop being so boring. She closed her eyes, feeling a buzzing sensation. Despite trying to block their voice out, she could hear them very clearly.
"Why is she like that?" grumbled May.
"She's gotten so broody," Naomi whispered loudly.
"And boring," added May. "Always tired and not feeling well."
"Shut up," hissed Caitlin. "She could hear you."
"I can hear you very, very clearly," Clara spoke up, her back towards them.
"Clara you have bat ears," giggled someone. Their voices had started sounding the same as the headache grew.
Clara couldn't explain why she had these headaches or momentary burning aches. But everybody said that she was just a sensitive child, who got colds easily. It made sense when she was four but now, being twelve, she knew it was something different.
Her biggest fear was that all those small symptoms would be growing into something big, like cancer or influenza. The previous week, she had read an article in the newspaper, that those were symptoms of smallpox. Clara had counted and, to her absolute horror, had a few of them. Headaches, vomiting, and rashes.
Clara didn't get a chance to read more because Karen had snatched the newspaper from her hands, forcing her to eat her porridge and stop reading that nonsense. From that day, she had been banned from reading the newspaper.
But that didn't stop from Clara firmly believing that there definitely was something wrong with her. She couldn't place her finger on what it was. It wasn't until a week later Clara found out what it was.
"Are you serious?" Clara groaned and frowned at her toast. She picked it up, taking a vicious bite.
Next to her, Naomi cackled. "Ron said that he saw rats last week."
Caitlin squawked in fear. May, from the other end, leaned forward to glare at her. "That's not helping Naomi."
"I don't think they're rats," Clara tried to reassure Caitlin. "Besides, the attic is an easy chore. It's a one-day thing."
"I hate these chores," May complained.
At breakfast, Karen had announced the chores of the week. Each week, the children would get assign a different chore. It was a way for them to contribute to their community and to learn new things, that's what the nuns would tell them.
Naomi and May had gotten mop duty while Clara and Caitlin were assigned to clean the attic. The job was very simple. They would clean it from cobwebs, rat droppings. Move the boxes that all the seasonal clothes were stored so they wouldn't get wet from the weather.
It was a simple task but that didn't mean Clara was happy about it. The attic was extremely cold in the winter, giving Clara a higher chance to fall ill again. For Caitlin it was the rats, they liked to hibernate in the winter. The last time she saw, she refused to leave her room until the rat was killed.
"I could do it alone," Clara offered. "It's not that hard."
"No." Caitlin shook her head. "It's not fair for you."
"No, it's fine. If I didn't want to do it I wouldn't be volunteering. Trust me, I'm not that nice."
"See, Cat? She's okay with it," reasoned May. She touched Clara's arm and flinched. "Jeez, Clara, your really warm. What did you fell asleep? On the oven."
"No," Caitlin said. "I feel guilty."
"If you feel guilty, you can do my chores," Naomi said slyly. "That way you can ease your Catholic guilt."
Clara rolled her eyes. "Now you're just making fun of me. But seriously Cat, it's fine. I can do it alone."
Caitlin looked torn but the thought of seeing a rat got the best of her. "Thank you," she gushed. "I owe you. Like really owe you."
"Yeah, you do. With Ron and Jonathan having the attic last week, it's double the work."
They fell silent, trying to finish their food quickly before one of the nuns announced breakfast was over. In less than ten minutes and Rosemary yelled that they finished their food. Everybody quickly got up, leaving their plates for Shane and Tom, who got the chose to pick up and clean the dishes. Everybody headed to their respective chores. Some went outside, others upstairs and the rest stayed downstairs.
"Thank you so much," Caitlin repeated over and over again as Clara and May went upstairs.
"I get it," Clara told her, getting annoyed. "If you don't shut up, I'll take it back."
"Right, sorry," Caitlin apologized. "But thank you. I'll give you my dessert tonight."
Clara grinned mischievously. "You better."
Caitlin took a step back from her, pulling the collar of her shirt. "Wow, it's really hot in here. Are you hot?"
Clara frowned quizzically and shook her head. May had said a similar thing to her, but as she touched her forehead, she felt fine. Clara hoped she wasn't getting sick again, she would go crazy going bedrest for another week.
May appeared and grabbed Caitlin wrist, dragging her away from Clara. "Come on. We need to start moping, there is a huge mess in the kitchen."
"Wait... What? I'm helping you guys?" exclaimed Caitlin. "I thought you guys were joking."
"No, we weren't," May told her seriously.
"But—but—"
"But nothing," Clara silenced her. "You don't get to be lazy while the rest are slaving away."
Caitlin scowled at her. "I hope you run into a rat. Or suffer. Like a lot."
Clara waved at them in amusement as May dragged Caitlin away. When they disappeared from her view, she headed to the attic.
"Watch out."
Clara felt someone push her forward. On instinct, her hands went to stop the fall. She cringed at the sharp pain in her palms.
"Sorry," someone snickered. Clara glanced up to see Ron grinning at her.
Clara glanced up to see Ron grinning at her.
"Ron," she scowled.
"I said watch out," he reminded her haughtily but he did help her get up. Clara straightened her clothes when she was standing.
She glared at him. "You're an idiot."
"I know. You remind me each day."
Clara glared at her palms that were all scrapped. There was a speck of dots of blood. "Look what you did," she grumbled and wiped away the blood.
"That sucks." Ron grabbed one of her hands, rubbing them in what he thought was a soothing manner. He stopped when he looked at her plans. "You're so dramatic. Your hands are fine."
"What are you talking about?" Clara glanced at her palms in confusion and saw that they were fine, only a little red. "No. I thought that—huh." She had been sure that they were scrapped. She could still feel the pain when they scrapped the floor.
Ron smirked at her. "Or did you only say that so I would hold your hand? Got to say, Welsh, well played because it worked."
She snatched her hand away from him, glaring at him. "Nobody told you to grab it."
"Your eyes said everything."
"I wasn't aware annoyance was misinterpreted to affection."
"Like the great poet's say, there's a fine line between love and hate."
"No there isn't," she said flatly. "Why were you running? This whole thing could have been avoided if you weren't running. Don't you have chores like everyone else?"
"I do. Running is part of it." She looked at him in confusion, making him elaborate more. "Me and Jonathan got the dirty clothes. I'm picking them and taking them to him."
She rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't give me that judgy look Clara. That system was working well until I slammed against you." He wagged his finger at her. "What did you get that's got you so grumpy?" He poked her shoulder.
"The attic," she told him flatly.
He chortled. "Oh wow. Seriously? That's just great, not for you but I'm just saying. Me and Jonathan got it last week and let's just say, we left you a nice surprise."
She scrunched up her face in pain. "You guys are unbelievable."
A sudden slyly smile crossed Ron's face. "So... you threw up on Peter?"
"Oh no," she groaned, her face reddening in embarrassment and anger.
"I heard it was gross."
"You didn't see?"
He shook his head. "Sadly, I didn't get the privilege to witness the great humiliation."
She buried her face in her hands, mortified. "Someone bury me."
"I was talking about Peter. Don't sweat it," Ron assured her. "He's a prick. He deserved it."
"Really?" She peeked a little.
He nodded. "Last week he ratted me and Johnathan out to Sister Karen for breaking one of the plates."
She smiled, putting her hands down, feeling slightly better. He grinned at her and opened his mouth to talk again but was interrupted.
"Ron? Where are you? Get over here!" Johnathan's irritated voice drifted from downstairs.
"Hold on." He motioned her to stay and turned to yell, "I'm going. Stop being impatient."
Clara winced, finding his voice to be too loud. "I guess goodbye," she said, rubbing her temples. Why was everything suddenly too loud? It looked like she was getting sick again.
"Duty calls. Good luck, you'll need it." Swiftly, he kissed her cheek before running off.
"Please tell me he didn't just flirt with me," Clara grimaced, wiping her cheek childishly. Forgetting her brief interaction with him, she headed to the attic. Inside, she saw that she had been right. The attic was a complete mess. Ron and Jonathan seemed to have done the opposite of cleaning. Some of the boxes were turned over, the contents inside spilling. Cobwebs were hanging all over the place.
She closed her eyes, trying to keep her temper in check. She was going to make those boys pay. Clara winced when she felt a sharp burn on her right palm where she had scraped them. Especially Ron. Muttering profanities, Clara went to work immediately, hoping to finish too fast.
Rolling up her sleeves, Clara started with the cobwebs. Grabbing a cloth, she went all over the place taking them down. She tripped twice from the boxes that were scattered. Clara could feel sweat forming on her back. Going up and down the attic to take down cobwebs was a workout. Satisfied with herself, not seeing any more cobwebs, she went to the fallen boxes.
Going on her knees, she shoved the clothes into them, mentally promising to fold them properly later. Clara frowned when she tried to move the box and couldn't. It was too heavy. She didn't want to take out the clothes, that would make a bigger mess and double her time there but with them inside, she couldn't do anything.
"I can do this," she told herself.
She positioned herself to push the box. Taking a deep breath, she pushed with all her strength. Unfortunately, it wasn't much. It barely moved an inch. Switching positions, placing her back against the box and her palms flat against the rough wood, she pushed. The box slowly scooted back.
With more strength, Clara forced herself to push the box. She felt her body burn in pain, her palms aching. That should have made her stop, she was overextending herself. But she didn't stop. Clara was determined to move the box.
"Come on," she growled, giving a hard shove. The box slid easily, making her fall back. She added more force when a loud booming made her cover her ears, making her groan. The noise felt like it came from behind her. When she looked over her shoulder, Clara saw nothing. She rubbed her temple, still hearing the painfully loud noise, unsure where it came from.
"Ron what is wrong with you?" Clara could clearly hear Jonathan snap at Ron. It sounded like they were near the attic.
"It was an accident, Johnathan. Calm down. Just grab that towel and we'll clean it."
"They're going to find out we broke the shelf."
"No, they won't. No one comes to the basement."
"Wait—what is—?" Clara breathed in bewilderment. She tried to sit up but ended up slipping back. She screeched when she felt something sharp pierce one of her hands. She got up quickly, hissing in pain. Clara felt worse when she saw a small piece of wood sticking in her skin, blood dripping down.
"Oh no," she groaned. "Shoot."
Clara looked around, trying to find a cloth to stop her wound from bleeding. Clara looked at her bloody hand in disgust. Looking around frantically, not sure what to do, Clara sat down on the trunk. Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled out the wood.
"Ah," she whimpered, feeling small pieces of wood stabbing her.
She threw the piece of wood to the side. A buzzing noise erupted all over her body, blurring her vision. Clara made a choking noise, trying to breathe. Desperately, she wiped the blood in her leg. Clara wiped the blood on her leg again. She felt awful, her entire body buzzing, making her dizzy. Finding a cloth on a far corner, she raced to grab it. The buzzing was growing, making her stop. It didn't help with Jonathan's and Ron's constant arguing.
"Just go get a mop."
"Where?"
"There's one upstairs."
"I'll be back."
Stop it, stop it, she berated herself. Just blood. A little cut.
Clara saw the cloth she used to clean, hanging by a metal bar. Stumbling, she grabbed the dirty cloth, clenching it in her bloody hand, trying to gain control. She staggered back, the buzzing making her frantic. Clara choked when she felt a sudden burning pain.
Not having control of herself, she screamed in agony. Looking at her injured hand, Clara's eyes widened in horror. The cloth was on fire along with her hand. Letting out a loud screech, Clara dropped the cloth in shock, stomping on it frantically, trying to put out the fire. She flinched when she felt the fire burn her shirt.
"Clara!"
The fire disappeared with her frantic stomps. She continued stomping even after the fire was out. Clara's entire body was seizing in pain. She cried out in relief when the fire was out from her disfigured hand. It was red, burnt, the flesh completely destroyed.
"Oh my God!" she gasped, flinching when she moved her burned fingers. How did they get on fire? "I'm going to hell. I'm damned for eternity."
"Clara! What happened?!"
Clara gasped, trying to calm herself down. Her hand was throbbing, the pain indescribable. She put a hand over her mouth, trying to stop herself from crying in pain. "No, no, no. This—it's wrong. Lord help me," she whispered.
"Clara!"
Clara winced at how loud the voice sounded. She tried to make a coherent noise but was unable. Taking loud breaths, Clara could feel her pain going away. She stared straight ahead, afraid to look at her hand. She was afraid. This could be the devil work.
"Clara! Answer me!"
Rosemary's voice sounded closer now. Hearing her go up the rickety stairs, Clara mind reacted. For some reason, she wanted to hide the burnt cloth. Her eyes darted everywhere trying to find a place to hide it. Dashing to the box, she opened it and shoved the cloth inside. That moment, Rosemary's head popped up the whole.
"Clara, why aren't you answering me?" she demanded.
She rubbed her temple, cringing at her loud voice. "Stop shouting," she groaned, her eyes darting frantically.
Rosemary climbed up, surveying the area. "What happened? Why did you scream?"
"This—" Clara licked her lips, silently raising her hand to show her burned hand. Rosemary gasped, her eyes widening in horror.
"Clara! What happen to you?"
"I don't know." In that moment Clara broke down, sobbing. "I don't know what's—"
Rosemary rushed to her side, she grabbed her right hand and examined it. Clara flinched waiting for the pain but didn't feel anything. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was her completely intact, nothing wrong with it besides being covered in blood.
"No—it was—no," she fumbled over her words, confused.
"Where did this blood come from?" Rosemary demanded. "Did you cut yourself?"
"It came from..." Clara trailed off when she saw her bare palm. It was fine. The melted skin was gone. There was still blood, but it was just there as if she had dipped her hand in a red paint. She felt her breathing grew ragged. "It was... It was...—"
"Clara, take a deep breath," Rosemary ordered. "Calm down. You're fine. Breath. You're okay."
No, I'm not okay, she wanted to scream but could barely breathe. Nodding, Clara slowly took deep breaths.
"Breath."
"I can't," Clara gasped.
"Yes, you can. You're doing that right now," Rosemary reminded her gently. Nodding, Clara took deep breaths, feeling oxygen entering her lungs. Realizing that she had bend over, she straightened up.
"Oh my goodness," exclaimed Rosemary, looking at her fondly.
"What?" Clara asked, worried that she saw something.
Rosemary looked at her in a reassuring way, making Clara suspicious. "I think you got your period."
"I'm what?" Clara asked in bewilderment.
"You're menstruating. Don't you remember I while back we—"
"No, I know what that is," Clara stopped her, running her fingers through her hair, frustrated. "I—I..."
"It explains the blood. And your jeans." Rosemary pointed to her legs. Looking down, Clara saw her blood on one her thighs. She remembered frantically, wiping the blood from her hand to her jeans, scared out of her mind. "You don't have to be scared. But it is a lot of blood," Rosemary mused.
"I'm—" Clara was going to correct her when something told her to stop. She gingerly touched the blood, grimacing. Looking at Rosemary uncertainly, Clara nodded reluctantly. "I guess I did."
Rosemary laughed. "Okay well, this is such great news. You're women now."
She frowned. "But...—"
"But what?"
Clara wanted to tell her what happened how she had accidentally stabbed her hand and then went to grab a cloth that caught on fire for an unknown reason and how her hand had magically healed itself.
Even inside her head, it sounded crazy, saying it out loud would be worse. There was no way the nuns would believe her. She would be taken to the shrink and spend the rest of her life there. No one would believe her.
"Nothing," she said quietly. "Just nothing."
Rosemary smiled. "Let's go to Sister Karen. She'll know what to do."
Clara nodded stiffly, trying to get the blood out of her hands.
"Wait... Why does it smell like something was on fire?" Rosemary asked.
Clara's eyes widened, her eyes darting to the box. "I—I don't know," stuttered Clara. "It smelled like that when I got here."
Rosemary shook her head disapprovingly. "Those boys are in so much trouble." She smiled when she looked at Clara. "Come on."
Having no choice but follow her, Clara in a desperate do attempt, wiped the remaining blood on her leg. When they got out of the attic, she was a relief to see no one outside.
"Only you heard?" she asked hopefully.
"No," Rosemary admitted. "It was Ron who heard and came to me."
"Oh no." She felt the blood of her face drain. He was never going to let it go.
"He was worried," she tried to console her. Clara stared blankly at her bloodied leg. "Come on. Let's get you change."
Rosemary took her to Sister Karen's office. Knocking on the door, they waited for her to let them in. Clara had only been to Sister Karen's office once, two years ago when she got in trouble for smacking Ron in the face with a book. She only did that because he had made racial comments toward Caitlin.
"What happened?" Karen asked in alarm, seeing the blood on Clara. "Are you alright Clara?"
Rosemary grinned, putting her arms around Clara's shoulder. "She got her menstruation."
Karen's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh my goodness."
"Yeah. Oh my goodness," Clara said.
The nuns didn't notice her tone. They took Clara to the bathroom, proceeding to help her. Clara half listened to Rosemary and Karen prattle on about what to do now that she was bleeding each month, where to get her necessities, what to do if she were to have an accident. Clara thoughts were consumed on what happened in the attic.
What had happened? She stared blankly at her hand, smooth, showing no signs of previously being injured. What happened to her hand? Those strange occurrences were not natural. They were the work of something higher. She just didn't know what it was; a miracle or a catastrophe?
God works in mysterious ways. But so does the devil. Don't confuse the two of them. That's what Sister Karen would tell them. Clara would always roll her eyes in exasperation. She had never understood but know Clara knew what Sister Karen meant.
"I know you're a little nervous, but I promise you, it's going to be okay. It's normal," Karen assured her, giving her a genuine smile.
Is it really normal? Clara wondered, consciously clenching her right hand.
"Every woman goes through this," Karen continued. "And there's nothing to worry..." Although Karen was talking about something else, Clara pretended that she was telling her that whatever happened to her, it was normal, nothing to worry about.
"Can I go?" Clara interrupted her. "I don't feel well."
"Do you have cramps?" Rosemary asked. "I can make you a tea."
"It's fine. I just need to lay down."
Clara could feel Sister Karen's eyes on her. She tried to remain impassive, not to show her fear.
"Let the girl go, Sister Rosemary," Karen ordered. "You can go Clara. I hope you feel better."
"Sister Karen?" Clara asked timidly.
"Yes?"
"What happens if the devil decides to punish you and you don't know why?"
The nuns looked at her strangely, alarmed by her question. Clara avoided their questioning stares.
"Why would you say that Clara?" Rosemary asked, her face ached in motherly concern. "Did you do something?"
"No." Yes.
"Sister Rosemary," Karen spoke up. "I believe she asked the question to me"
"I'm sorry Sister." Rosemary bowed her head. "I was worried about Clara."
Karen shifted her attention to Clara. "My dear, the devil doesn't pick anybody. He picks the sinners and makes them pay for what they have done. The only way to save yourself is to repent your sins and pray for forgiveness to the lord."
"Really?" Clara said in a small voice.
"But you don't have to worry about. You haven't done anything."
"No, but thank you," stuttered Clara. "I'm going to go now."
"Don't forget to pray," Karen reminded her.
"Trust me I won't."
Like the previous night, Clara got out of the room as quickly as possible, not stopping until she reached her room. Everybody was still doing their chores. She passed various of the children who were cleaning the furniture and windows. Some of them ignored her while others stared at her curiously.
Clara was relieved to not see none of her roommates in the hallways, she was not in a mood to talk. It was almost supper time, which meant no one would be heading to their room immediately, giving her time to calm down.
Clara sat in her bed, lifting her legs, pressing them to her chest. She felt her body shake in fear, everything replaying in her head in a continuous loop. She wasn't crazy, she could still feel the burning pain that engulfed her. It was clear in her but she couldn't help questioned herself.
Maybe it was all in my head, she tried to reason.
But where did all the blood come from? The burnt cloth? How do you explain that?
I can't. I just can't.
Then pray. Maybe the devil will let you go.
Where's my silver lining?
Clara stared helplessly at the empty room, hearing everybody talking downstairs, oblivious to her turmoil. Their voices rang across the room, she could everything they were saying. Sobbing, she buried her face in her legs. The whole ordeal in the attic had now forced her to pretend she was menstruating, which she wasn't. Clara was going to lie to them every month. What was she going to do?
"The only way to save yourself is to repent your sins and pray for forgiveness to the lord."
Biting her lip, she tried to stop herself sobbing but could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. Giving up, Clara laid down, burying her face into her pillow, letting out a choked up sob. Never in her life had she been torn between fear and curiosity.
Everything is going to be okay. It could be worse. Just pray and everything will be forgiven.
The following morning, she woke up with blood stained sheets. After the girls calmed her down, she found out that she got her actual menstruation. There was her silver lining.
Hello, to everybody who's reading. I decided to start a new year with a new story. I'm super excited for this story. I love anything related to Marvel, especially X-Men. I've had plans to do it for a while but had never had a chance. But after seeing the X-Men Apocalypse trailer, I got more motivated to write this story and I finally completed this chapter. I would love to hear what you thought of this.
Because I don't have a beta, there at times going to be grammatical errors but I will go back and revise them in each chapter. And sometimes when I'm doing that, I will add an extra sentence here and there because I felt like it would fix the flow.
And a warning, I'm only going to follow the film universe events, not the comics, because this is, after all, X-Men films. Which means I'm going to make up a few things from the character that aren't like in the comics. I will try to keep them close to as how they portray them in the films.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from X-Men or Marvel, I only own my OC, any unknown dialogue, plot and other characters I make up as I go. Anything familiar obviously isn't mine.
(Also, I got the story title from a lyric of the song "I Found" by Amber Run. The song actually inspired the story. It's a really good song, you should listen to it. To get a vibe of the story.)