Wounded Future
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the original story.
Summery: This is a story that tracks the emotions, thoughts, and occurances that happen between Clive and Flora during their time in "Future London". Throughout the game, Clive and Flora are left alone quite a lot. This story shows the development as well as the destruction of their relationship during that short period of time. There may be spoilers to the Professor Layton and the Un-Wound Future game, but then again, if you didn't finish playing it then you wouldn't know who the hell "Clive" is. Rated T for coarse language and possible sexual themes.
Prologue
"What's the use?" She whispered to herself. She stared up into her reflection, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She slowly sat down onto the porcelain throne beside her, dropping her face into her hands. She sobbed into her palms, attempting to muffle the cries while catching her tears with her fingers. She was alone. Again. A feeling she was used to, but unwilling to accept. She thought her problems would be over, after she met him, but he only added to the sting. She sobbed harder now, accidently reminding herself of the blissful happiness she had felt before this misery. He only set her up to feel this misery. He only used her for his own personal gains. He played her like a child, and she didn't even realize it.
Flora propped up her forehead with her wet palms as her puffy eyes stared at the tiled floor. Her body shook with anger and her teeth clenched to hold in her cries. She mentally beat herself up for falling for the man and believing his lies. Sadness was instantly replaced by anger as she grit her teeth and let out a throaty groan.
"God dammit," She cursed as she got up from off the seat. She viciously grabbed some tissues from the adjacent paper roll and aggressively wiped away her tears. She moved back to the sink, and stared at herself in the mirror again. Displeased with what she saw, she forced herself to look away as she washed her hands with the tap. She sighed as the sobs began to calm and walked out of the washroom.
She moved into the hallway that adjoined the bedrooms and bee-lined for her own. The old London house was silent except for the floor creaking caused by her footsteps. They were gone again, the Professor and Luke, off again to another adventure and leaving Flora at home by herself. Even after all her help, her cleaver puzzle solving skills, and her willingness to cater to the two, she was still ignored. They often left her alone in the big, empty house with nothing to do, and no one to talk to. It used to bother her to no end, but now she couldn't care the least. She had gotten used to her solitude and had found alternative ways to keep herself entertained.
Flora crawled into her bed and covered herself with the blankets. Her body still hiccupped from the crying as she hugged her knees for comfort. How had she gotten to this point? What caused this fall into depression? She closed her eyes and envisioned the man's face. The catalyst of all this, the reason she felt so broken.
"Clive."
A Review would be greatly appreciated.