Hey !
Here we go for chapter 4 ! Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited and reviewed ! It helps a lot !
We're slowly getting deeper into the story, hope you like it !
Lexa
The library is too quiet for my brain to stop screaming thoughts about Clarke. I've been sitting near the window for hours, because my last class has been cancelled and I thought of doing some research on my next project.
But all I've been doing is checking my phone and looking outside. Maybe I should've gone back to the house for a nap. My notes are in front of me and I took two books from the shelves. I tried to convince myself into working before but I failed, so I decide to put the books back where I took them and secure my notes into my bag.
I stand by the window. Looking outside is fascinating enough. Until I notice something, someone, sitting on a wooden table, and I'm wondering how I didn't see her arrive. She must have been there for a while. The sky is grey, and she's keeping her hands in her jacket pockets, a luggage sitting beside her on the table bench.
It's her. And I leave the library straight away.
It's a bit cold outside, wind is pushing the warm summer air away for winter to come slowly. I didn't go straight to her as I thought I'd do. Instead, I went to the Starbucks right out of campus. It's just a fifteen-minute walk. I'm back soon enough. I go to her and hand her the warm drink. She wasn't facing me, so she didn't see me come from afar.
"I think you could use some coffee," I tell her for her to notice me.
She looks at the drink, then shoots a quick glance at me, and for half a second I could see the red in her eyes. She's been crying.
"Do you mind if I sit ?" I ask, knowing she'd rather have people ask.
She barely shrugs. I sit beside her luggage, leaving a proper space, and lay the cup onto the table, just in front of her. I watch her watching whatever's in front of us. She doesn't seem to be looking at something in particular. She stares into nothingness, and I can notice the shadow under yer eyes. She has cried a lot before, but no tear is falling right now. She hasn't been crying in the last minutes, she'd been crying. She cried a lot at some point in the last hours, I can't tell when, but I need to know why. I feel the same despair I've felt before coming from her and my heart starts to shatter.
She drives me crazy in every way possible. She has to tell me now. She has to tell me what's wrong, what I can do to help her, because I've never seen someone as hurt before and I don't understand how someone as brilliant and gorgeous as Clarke can be so torn.
If she looks empty now, staring blankly at nothing, not moving an inch, her hair pushed on the left by the wind, she's clearly broken. The reason may be foolish, but it's not good to keep going on like that. Or the reason may be terrible, and then she can't stay aside and pretend there's no one here who can help her.
I stand up. I didn't think about standing up, I just did. My knees pushed me up, and I understand what I have to do. I walk around the table, try to find Clarke's glance but I can't catch it, it's lost. So I do as I did before and that she hated. I sit on the bench, on Clarke's left, and push her a bit to be able to sit completely. She frowns, she opens her mouth.
For a moment I hope she's going to yell at me, but she doesn't. She slightly turns her head towards me and watches me. My eyes. My cheeks, nose, lips. My neck. The rest of my body, though her glance seems vague. I wonder why she's looking, it doesn't look like she's enjoying the view, or judging me. She's just staring. Until she harshly slows down the beating of my heart with a statement.
"You act just like her."
Her. There's another girl. What else could it be ? Her is a person. A woman. Like me. Someone like me. Is it wrong ? Is she trying to insult me ? Somehow it works. I'm hurt, and I don't even know why. I want to ask what she's talking about but the words won't come out. Without knowing I know. Without looking I see the sorrow in Clarke's eyes, and that share of guilt pulsing in her neck I'd feel wherever because it's been there too, wherever I go, in my own neck, choking me until I lose my breath. And there I go being her to soothe the pain.
I think I understand.
I think I know what she meant by her.
I'm no good. I hurt people in hope to make me feel better. I'm her, the kind of bitch who hurt Clarke, I suppose, I think, it seems pretty clear to me. But I don't want to be her, I don't wanna be her if it means shattering people's souls like I was some evil god. I never thought I had this power on anyone, I only thought I hurt their ego.
But I became her, and the words slip out of my lips. The words I couldn't say before.
"I don't want to be her."
It's out of fear, the chills hit me cold, or it may be the wind, nothing is certain anymore. It's all confusing, because Clarke is the one who needs comfort right now, she needs help, and I'm freaking out. Because when I said I wanted to face the truth I didn't think I'd actually do it. For real. With the consequences ahead. It already hurts. Because I know her too, another her, some her that hurt me, a cold-hearted creature, or a heartless person, I don't know.
But I've got this her, and I'm afraid Clarke has one too. I'm afraid she's going through this whole shit and I won't be able to help her because I can't even help myself.
She's looking at me. I just notice it now. Her eyes are watching me and I know from the confuse stare she's throwing at me that she doesn't understand my words, neither does she understand my reaction. I must look like a terrified little girl.
I am.
"It's her," I say, I want her to know, I need her to know, I have to say it, to explain, to justify, even though it will never excuse my actions, "it's her, that girl, it's her who made me this way."
I don't know where to start. I'm not sure why I want her to know. I couldn't possibly tell anyone because I'm terrified of myself right now, of who I've become ? No, it has to be Clarke. I need to tell her, so she doesn't make the same mistake, so she can get away from me if I can't help myself again.
"I need to go," she says, and my world falls apart.
She stands up fast, takes her luggage and leaves me alone on that bench, harassed by the dry wind. I stand up and I walk, but a few feet away I remember the green Starbucks cup and go back to get it. I walk. Two, three, four steps. The cup's warmth should have helped me to relax but it burns my hand, though it's almost cold now, it burns it harshly and I angrily throw the cup on the floor and step on it with my right, strongest foot. I want the cup to disappear, the green to fade into dark grey, the smell of coffee to become pavement smell, disgusting, strong, so gross it would become impossible to define.
Like me.
I run. I try to run away from me. I know it's impossible and I run faster. I wanted Clarke to run away from the monster I am, she did, but it hurts. It's not my ego screaming, but the broken heart who was trying to express itself, to call for help, but it only bleeds more now, and my tanned skin turns into light red, anger, shame, heartbreak.
Clarke
I couldn't stay. It would have been wrong. She's just like her, I can't listen to her lies. She's such a good actress I almost believed her when the pain shadowed her face. I thought, for the briefest instant, that she was like me. She had been fooled. Severely fooled. I thought that, maybe, so much was taken from her and that's why she was acting like this. Like a curse which falls on you, grabs you, slowly tightens its grip day after day, for weeks, months, forever even when you think it's gone.
That's it. It's never left. She never left. She's still here. She broke my heart, my family, my mind.
I'm sitting on Raven's doorstep. I may have bought a bottle of vodka on my way. The cheapest one. Still expensive for someone homeless, but I'll find a new job soon and take an apartment somewhere. I don't know.
I want to ease my mind. My mother pointed her finger at me in the worst way possible. I needed to tell Raven that, or Octavia, or Monty, or any other friend who made me swear to come to them in times of trouble. Raven told me she'd be out of class soon. I hope no one will see me sitting in this dorm's corridor and tell me to get the fuck out. I'm no longer a student, I'm not even an employee here, I'm just a drunk odd girl, the one they know as the 'girl-who-dropped-out-then-worked-as-a-cleaning-lady-and-now-we-don't-know-shit-about-her-because-she's-nuts'. Something like that.
I drink. Wait. I want to stop thinking of her. The more I think of her the more I think of Lexa and that's unbearable. I can't have someone like her back in my life, I'm miserable enough.
My body feels heavy. I'm lying on something. My head spins. I hear voices, random words, I don't understand, but they disappear and something's getting close to me, very close, until I hear words again. They're calling for me. Whispering. Asking me how I feel. Am I awake ?
I try to open my eyes. No light to blind me. There's a gentle light on the left corner. I think I know where I am.
"Ah, finally," I hear. I recognize the voice. It's Octavia. But she's not the one beside me.
My eyes open wide, my stomach flips, I roll on my side and throw up.
"I suppose we were right," Octavia says again. "She did throw up. You placed that bowl right."
I didn't throw up on the floor, I find out. There's a red bowl inches from my face. I lift up, lying back on the bed. I smell vodka. I drank too much. Not for the first time.
My friends know me well. My hands are cold and trembling, but my head and chest are boiling.
"Hey, Clarke, are you with us ?" Raven asks me, laying a gentle hand on my shoulder.
Tears tickle my eyes, because earlier, when I was drinking on that doorstep, I didn't want to be with them. I didn't want to be with anyone. I wasn't sure I wanted to wake up. And it hurts, because I don't want to die. I want things to get better, but I don't know what to do.
Octavia sits on the other side of the bed. I'm in Raven's room. My former room. I guess they found me sleeping on the floor, the supposedly empty bottle of vodka in my hand. I don't think I drank the whole bottle. I don't think I would've woken up if I did. But I don't know. I'm reckless.
I look at each one of them. My friends. The ones I thought would be angry with me but only look at me with concern. Raven. Octavia. Bellamy. I'm lucky they're here, I'm so lucky, because I have nowhere else to go.
I want to sit up, but I can't, my head is spinning around the room fast, my stomach is threatening to empty itself. I find the strength to whisper a few words, I need to tell them.
"My mother still thinks I killed him." It's said. I close my eyes. I don't want to see their reaction, and my head hurts too much anyway. I'm crushed by pain and exhaustion. I let myself fall back to sleep, ignoring my friends' comments. I couldn't answer them anyway.
I've spent the night in Raven's room, her and Octavia watching over me. They've helped me all night, never yelling at me, never complaining. It's around ten in the morning now, Octavia left to class, she has an important project going on, Raven told her she'd stay with me.
She fetched us breakfast. I sipped a bottle of water and swallowed aspirin, and I'm currently trying to eat biscuits. Raven bought them at the British shop downtown while I was sleeping, right before Octavia left. They're lighter on the stomach than the muffins we often get at Starbucks.
Lighter, surely, but my stomach is still telling me to go easy on him.
"I'm sorry," I finally tell Raven. I didn't speak for the whole night, but apart from the headache and stomachache I feel better now.
Raven nods. She knew I was going to apologize at some point, but it's not what she wants me to say. I expect her to ask me what happened. "Your mother won't let you come home ?"
I look down. It's more complicated than that. "She would if I get a job there. But..." I don't know exactly how to explain. I feel stupid. "She's mad at me for dropping out and... and she says I ruined everything." Raven doesn't think I'm stupid. Raven understands. I see it on her face and I'm glad she's here, I'm glad she's my friend, I'm so glad she exists !
"I saw your texts," she tells me. I tried calling her, and O, and Bel, and Monty, and everyone actually. Then I sent texts to the first four. I didn't know what else to do. "It took you some time to ask for help, but we're still here." She pauses. I feel the next words coming, I know what she's going to say. I don't like it, but I need it. "Your relationship with your mother will get better with time, for sure. But for now you have to do something with your life. I know you feel guilty about your father, but life goes on for you. If you want to get better, you have to talk to us, and do something with your life. You can be happy again, you know that's the best way to make your father's sacrifice worth it."
She's right. She's absolutely right. It's been a long while. Years. I'm still trying to deal with grief. Guilt and sorrow aren't easy to push away. I pretended to be okay for the first three years, but I can't fool anyone anymore. I have to tell everything. But some of my friends knew, back in high school, they warned me about her, and yet I didn't listen.
I never told them because I know they'd think 'I told you so' and I wouldn't bear it. I want to talk about it, but not to them. Their judgement would end me.
Flashes of yesterday come back. Lexa's face hits me. She said she had some her, and it destroyed her. I wonder if this her is real. I don't want Lexa in my life, not if she's gonna play me just like she did, but I can't forget about her, I have to clear everything. I have to know if she had some her, like I did, or if she made it all up.
I think about it now, I think about Lexa because I'm alone with Raven and I can't get myself to talk about what happen with her that night my father died. They know the whole thing, but not my part, not what I lived, what I went through, and I never told them because it's my fault, I trusted that girl and lost her game. That's what I was to her, a game. And I lost myself, losing my Dad in the process.
What can I tell Raven ? She expects me to say something, but I don't know how to explain. I try to say something, though, because Raven has taken care of me the whole night, I can't just leave like that. I have to give her something.
"I know I have to talk about it. I don't know how. It's... it's hard, thinking about it."
Yet I often do. It never really leaves me. She's in my mind while the warming figure of my father slowly disappear. I'm forgetting him. How he looks like. How he talked. In a few years he'll be gone and she'll still be here.
"Do you know... do you know what happened to Lexa ?" I ask, realizing I spoke out loud.
She looks at me with blank eyes, but her brows furrow and she puts the pieces together.
"Did she do anything to you ?" she asks. There's a bit of anger in her voice. I guess she saw Lexa stick to me at the pub.
"No, well," and again, I regret saying that, because I don't know how to explain. "I mean, she did follow me around but... there was something she said. I just want to know if she lied, that's all."
She thinks. Seconds drop. I'm wondering if she does know something but she doesn't seem to. And she answers. "I only know she hooks up with any girl she can get." She closes her mouth, then opens it again. She has something else to say. She hesitates, ends up saying it anyway. "I always wondered why she was acting like that. I mean, I heard she's a very good student, not the pretentious type, but when I hear about her as a person, outside of class... she's just a bitch. How can you be so clever, morally good, and yet act like that every day ?"
I ask myself the same thing. Raven's thought is enough to convince me to go talk to Lexa. I freaked out yesterday, when she told me she was broken by some her, but I'm not so sure why I got scared anymore. I guess I was afraid to find out Lexa was who she was now because of a girl, because then I'd understand and forgive her. I would want to listen to her. I would want to know. And I would have no reason to hate her. Because she'd be in the same team as me. The team of the used, broken ones.
I stand up. I put the biscuits aside. My legs are weak from the time I've spent lying down, but they'll get back to walking fine. Raven looks at me with surprise. I go to the door, meet myself in the cupboard mirror on my way. I look like crap, pale with messy hair, lips a bit purple, but I'll be fine.
I open the door, and before leaving I turn to Raven and say "I have to talk to Lexa. I'm gonna talk to her, and I'll tell you everything later. I promise. Thank you so much Rav !"
On my way to the frathouse, I try to think about what to say to her but my brain is rolling and rolling and rolling like a car who just pass through every tunnel in a flash. Then the tunnel is left far behind. Exactly like my thoughts.
I'm on the first floor of Lexa's frathouse. I don't know where her room is. The main door was open, leaving me free access, but what now ? I don't want to knock on each door and meet the guys. I don't want to see Matt again. I don't even know if he's here. I don't know if there's anyone in this house. I stand there, the stairs behind me. One minute. Then another. I feel silly coming here without knowing if Lexa is in her room. Without even knowing where her room is.
"Hi," I hear. Some man's voice. A nice one. Not Matt's. I turn my heard to the left and find a tall guy. Very short black hair. Dark skinned. The shadow of a beard. A little smile. He looks nice. Trustable. "You're looking for someone ?" he asks.
My eyes open wide. Right. I'm here to talk to her. "Yeah, Lexa."
He raises a brow, clearly surprised. Shouldn't he be used to see girls coming here to meet with Lexa ? He watches me for a moment and something changes into his eyes. "Wait," he suddenly says, "you're Clarke. Clarke Griffin."
"Yeah. So ?" I answer, knowing what he was going to say.
"Bryan is so worried about you ! They all are !" I didn't expect that. Bryan met Jasper on his first year here and he got into our group of friends. I guess they thought I'd disappeared, as I didn't tell them I was going home because I didn't know how he would go. In the end, I only disappeared for a day, because the reunion with my mother was a disaster.
I look closely at him, very closely, as if I was trying to recognize him, but I don't. I just guess who he is. Last time I spoke face to face with Bryan, he told me he had a new boyfriend. It was a few months back, but I guess that's him. I try to recall his name, but it's useless because I never really asked.
"You're his boyfriend, right ? Bryan's ?" I still ask, because I know I should care more about my friends.
"Yes, Nathan," he says, and I can see on his chewing of his lower lip that he's troubled. He hesitates, like they all do, and just like the others ends up telling me his thought. "Bryan told me a few weeks ago that he was worried about you. He hasn't seen you lately, and when the others started talking about you disappearing... anyway, go see him, alright ? Go see them all. You have good friends who care about you. You're lucky."
I know he's right, so I nod, tell him I've seen a few of them and will meet the others later, but for now I really need to talk to Lexa. He doesn't ask about her, but he's suspicious. Deep down, I'm sure he hopes I'm not going to do anything wrong, but I don't want to explain anything to anyone for now, because I don't know exactly what's going on.
I'm alone in front of Lexa's door. I take a deep breath and knock. I know she's here because I can hear loud music. Green Day, I think. No answer. I knock again, and again, and again, louder and louder until the door swings open and she yells.
"MATT I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE ME THE FU-Clarke." She's dumbfounded at first, then her tired eyes fill with anger and sorrow. I know that look. I've had it too. And I'd have it now too if I wasn't seeing it in her eyes.
"Can we talk ?" I ask. After all the times I pushed her away, it would be fair if she told me to go, but instead she looks lost. Her stare shifts from me to the wall behind me to the door she's holding. She's swinging from one feet to another, and looking more closely I understand she's not holding the door, she's holding onto it. She's drunk. Just like I was yesterday.
Seeing her like this reminds me of the headache still pressing onto my temples. I do my best to ignore it, this is too important. I focus on her and eventually she lets me in.
I may be making a mistake, but it may also be the last.
