Fiona had hit rock bottom during her drinking stage before Bobby's trial; however, as she set her bags down in her spare apartment, emptiness settled in. The pain she felt slowly trickled its way down, from the heaviness in her shoulders to her carefully manicured toes.
It had been a long break; rehab had been great for her drinking problem, it had also helped her with her intimacy issues; she and her counselor had pinpointed it as one of her main triggers. At the time Fiona had agreed with him due to the pain of a string of failed relationships.
However, as she stood inside her loft by herself the true problem and demon that Fiona had tried so hard to avoid during her stint in rehab came tumbling back. Loneliness. Her mother and father, Declan, Holly J. and Anya. All gone. She felt herself drift to the kitchen and before she realized what she was doing, she had opened her fridge in search of champagne. Luckily, the only bottle left was one that Holly J. had switched for seltzer water.
Gripping the bottle she slid down the side of the fridge, fighting off tears that wouldn't come and emptiness that wouldn't leave.
Imogen pressed her foot lightly on the pedal to her sewing machine, her new dress for school almost complete. Some people would think she was crazy if they knew she made some of her own clothes, but she didn't care. Imogen wanted to ignore the petty issues of high school, although she knew it was impossible. Even though she tried to brush it off, the years of being teased for how she acted or what she wore had left a deep emotional scar that only she could see.
This past year hadn't been terrible. She actually made a friend instead of scaring one away, although at times she could tell that he was as crazy as she was. She knew that she had gone overboard on obsessing over Eli last year, but she was thankful that he had pushed that aside to become her friend.
She hated to dwell over what people thought of her, but sometimes it was hard not to. Even though she acted like she didn't hear people whispering, she could. Sometimes she figured that since everyone already thought she was a freak that she might as well act as crazy as she could, such as trying to be Clare.
This year, though, Imogen knew things would be different; she would make them be different. She didn't want to be that crazy obsessed girl, or the freak, or the girl who tried to be Clare. She wanted to be known as Imogen.