"I have to go," I muttered under my breath. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt Shane's hand on my arm as he tried to pull me back, to get me to stay. I vaguely remember seeing confused faces of Michael and Eve coming out of their rooms. I think they may have been shouting my name, asking me where I was going. None of it mattered though. I ignored everything, my mind was in a haze. It felt like I was suddenly suffocating and I just had to get away. I had to be able to breathe.
The freezing mid-January air hit my face and as soon as it did, I took off running. I let my legs guide me even though I had no idea where I was going. I focused on blocking all thoughts from my mind. I didn't want to think right now. I just wanted to be left alone.
Eventually, my cardiovascular fitness (or lack of, in this case) caught up with me and I stopped in my tracks and put my hands on my knees as I wheezed desperately and gasped for breath. A metallic taste filled my mouth and my throat felt painfully dry. I needed a drink. It was only 6am, the sun wasn't even entirely up yet. I realized in the back of my mind that it must have still been quite dark when I walked out. Anything could have happened. Not that I cared right now. I still wasn't thinking, remember?
Now for the most important thing (somewhere in the back of my mind, I realized how stupid that sounded considering everything that was going on), finding myself something to drink. In Morganville when it was barely light outside, it was a struggle to find somewhere that would sell me a bottle of water. Suddenly, a dark thought entered my mind. I knew at least one place that would sell me a drink at this time considering it never exactly closed. The local bar. I hadn't been there before, only walked past it with Eve one time, but it didn't look like that highlight of society. But then again, who needed class when your parents just died unexpectedly. No. What I needed was a drink.
I span on my heels and still catching my breath, walked through the doors. I ignored the curious and confused looks from the group of men drinking by the door. I almost judged them for being rotten drunk at 6am before I realized that I was about to do the same. The whole place was dusty and it stunk of alcohol and urine. One part of me was desperate to get out of there and to go back home to where my friends were probably worried, and the one place where I would be safe. The only part told me that doing that would basically provide a key to all of the pain that I was storing inside a draw that was rattling to get out. I was ready to feel yet. I just needed things to go back to how they were yesterday before everything was ruined.
"Aren't you a little young to be in here?" the bartender asked, pulling me back into reality. He was middle aged with short, greying hair along with a name tag that said his name was Phil. He was the kind of guy who would have been hot if he was younger.
"I'm 18, but who cares anyway?" I told him coldly, surprising even myself with how different I sounded, "It's not like I'm going to tell my parents anyway,"
Phil growled, "How do I know that you won't? For all I know, you could be under cover, trying to shut this place down. You could be planning on running straight home to Mommy and Daddy to tell them all about the club that served you alcohol even knowing that you were a minor and they go straight to the police,"
"I can assure you that won't happen," I chuckled cynically.
He leaned over the bar, putting down the cup he was drying, "How can you promise that, little girl?"
I ignored the little girl comment, "My parents died this morning,"
Phil's mouth gaped open and he suddenly looked very guilty. Then he smirked, "Well then, you came to the right place. What can I get you?
"Who would've thought that I, little Claire Danvers who was always a boring little bookworm and goody two shoes, would be working for a vampire queen and a crazy vampire scientist," I started howling as I reached for my drink. My hand felt disconnected to my body and it took me a few seconds to grip it properly.
"I was destined for Broadway and now I'm running a bar 24/7," Phil countered.
"My parents are dead," I howled, though I had no idea why I was laughing. Maybe it was disbelief more than anything. Maybe I was just too drunk. I had drunk a lot. More than I drank on New Years Eve. Except that New Years ended with Shane and I curled up naked in his bed. Mm, Shane. He was kind of hot. I wanted Shane.
"I need to-" I hiccuped, then started again, "I need to find my boyfriend,"
As if on cue, my phone started ringing. It had been ringing all day, mostly. There had been a brief period where they stopped calling but then they started calling again. Then they stopped, and now they were starting again. I had no idea what time it was but my hazy mind processed that I had been at the bar for a while.
I picked the phone up, "Hellooo, Claire Danvers speaking?"
Shane's panicked voice came down the phone, "Where are you Claire? What's going on? You can't just take off like that,"
I shushed his sloppily, then slurred out, "Oh Shaney, I'm 18 years old of age, I can do whateverrr I want to. Talking about what I want to do, do you want to voulez-vouz in my room tonight?" I was vaguely aware of how desperate and inappropriate I was being but a mix of alcohol and numbness made me not really care.
I heard muffled voices and then the phone made a weird shuffling noise and Eve started screeching down the phone at me, "Claire, we've been so worried. It's nearly sunset, you've been gone nearly all day. Everyone is worried about you. We even called Hannah and got all the cops out looking for you. Please just tell us where you are so we can come get you. Please,"
Phil called over to me, "Claire, can I get you another drink?"
"Surprise me Phillip," I flirted with him gently.
"Claire, are you at a bar?" Eve gasped, "Are you drunk?"
I snapped without thinking, "I don't know Mom, am I?" Then I felt my mouth straighten and a sudden rush of guilt and regret rush through me. No. No. I couldn't think like that. I was happy, I needed to be happy.
"Claire are you there?" Eve called. I shook my head, even though she couldn't see me, "Nevermind, Shane thinks he knows where you are, we're coming to get you,"
I turned the phone off without saying goodbye. I wasn't a child, why did they have to spoil my fun by coming to get me? So what if they 'wanted to help'? I wasn't a baby anymore. I was now an orphan. I didn't need someone else taking my parents place. Eventually, Phil came back holding two drinks. One for me and one for him. The entire bar was empty now, except for the two of us. I guess people started clearing out once Phil became a one-client kind of bartender.
"Who was on the phone?" He asked, passing me my drink.
I took a sip and ran my fingers through my hair, slurringly replying, "My boyfriend, and my friend. They want me to come home,"
"And do you want to go home?"
"No," I told him simply, my drunk mind unable to detect the dangerous tint of his voice.
He moved closer, "Well maybe you can come to my house,"
"What for?" I blurted innocently.
"You know what I want Claire," I gasped and suddenly, I sobered up. I tried to run but as soon as I stood up, my legs turned to jelly. Huh. I guess I was drunker than I had originally thought. I swung around and nearly fell but Phil caught my arm. He pulled me up to his height and planted a kiss on my lips. He held my face terrifyingly close to him. I could feel his gin-stained breath as he leaned in for a second kiss. I tried to pull away but the grip he had on me was like steel. He was inches away from my face. He was going to kiss me, then probably do worse. I closed my eyes to shield myself but nothing happen.
"Take your hands off of her," That was Shane, "Now,"
Suddenly, Phil was swept away from me as he fell onto the floor in a heap. I saw him groan and reach for his nose in pain. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders and Eve came into my line of vision. She looked me up and down, obviously double checking that I was okay while Michael and Shane dealt with Phil.
"Oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay! That creep nearly got you," she pulled me in for a hug and squeezed tightly. I tried to hug her back but my stomach started turning. I pushed her away and turned around to empty the contents of my stomach (which, admittedly was mostly some form of alcohol). Luckily, Eve seemed to know what was going on before even I did myself. She managed to grab a bin and stick it under me just in time. It made me wonder how many times she had been drunk herself in the past.
"Eve?" I heard Michael's concerned voice call from across the room. I looked up quickly to see him and Shane looking at me with fear in their eyes.
"She'll be okay," Eve reassured them then signed and rubbed my back gently, "Let's just get her home,"
Muffled voices. Thumping. Need water. Parents.
I shot up straight. For a second, I was overcome with utter confusion. How did I get here? What happened? Then reality started to sink in. Yesterday was more than a bad dream. Yesterday had been hell. It was real. It happened. Memories were coming back to me sporadic and shattered, like a broken jigsaw. I remembered going to a bar. Then I remembered the bartender, what was his name? Phil, was it? It was. I remembered a phone call. Then Shane. Oh god, he must have been so hurt when he came in and some other guy was all over me. Hell, I still can't believe he saw me in that state. I know it was probably the least of my problems, but still. I almost prided myself on being the calm and collected one and maybe I was a little upset that I had given in.
I was broken out of my thoughts by my need for water. I tried to stand up but my head felt like it was going to spin away from body. Jesus. This is what a hangover felt like, then. Water. Just concentrate on water.
I started heading downstairs but stopped in my tracks when I got to the top of the stairs. Everyone was already downstairs, and talking. About me, it seemed. They're up early, I thought. I glanced down the hall at the old grandfather clock and saw that it was half 12. Or maybe not. I heard my name, but couldn't quite work out what they were saying. I sat down gently on the top of the stairs and leaned as far as I could towards the living room, resting my head across the bannister. My throat burned but my curiosity won over and I became desperate to know what they were saying. A small part of me was slightly paranoid that they were angry at me, even though I logically knew they probably weren't.
"She's probably just..." I heard Eve say.
"... I don't even know," That was Shane.
Michael added in this time, "Yeah but you..."
This was useless. I couldn't hear anything. Well not anything worth hearing at least. I needed to get closer. I slowly shuffled down to the next step, feeling like I was 7 years old again and I was listening in to my parents conversations about my birthday plans. Damn, a pain struck me in the chest. They were gone. They were really gone.
Once I'd reached the bottom step, I slowly lifted up and tiptoed to the wall. I slid across until I was right outside. I could hear everything now.
"I've never seen Claire like that, though. It just shocked me, you know?" That was Eve.
"Guys," Michael.
"Well I know what it's like to lose a parent and that was pretty tame compared to what I was like," Shane.
"Guys," Michael tried to get their attention. He sounded more forceful this time, "She's outside,"
I felt myself blush. Did I really think I could listen in to a conversation including Michael. Of course he would be able to tell. I slowly pulled down the handle and walked into the room. There was an awkward pause for just a second as nobody quite knew what to say to me. It was quickly intercepted by Eve, though.
"Good morning sleeping beauty," Eve chirped fakely, her voice too loud and her too tone to cheery, "Do you want me to get you anything? Coffee? Aspirin?"
"Yeah," I croaked, then coughed and spoke normally, "Please. And water,"
Eve nodded and hopped into the kitchen. I saw Shane roll his eyes dramatically and Michael chuckled then put a hand on my shoulder before following Eve. I flopped dramatically on the couch and groaned. I closed my eyes and trained to clear my brain. After a few seconds, I felt my legs being lifted as Shane slid underneath. He started massaging my feet gently. It was nice. I opened one eye and gave him a tired half smile which he returned.
I took a deep breath and thought about whether to say something or not. I changed my mind three or four times before deciding to just ask, "What were guys talking about?"
"You," he said bluntly, but not in a mean way, just matter-of-factly, "Are you okay? Really okay?"
I sighed, "I'm fine,"
"Claire-"
"Honestly. I pretty much got it out of my system last night,"
"You can't just get something like that out of your system. It's not that easy,"
I shrugged and took a warm cup from Eve, "Maybe it is for me,"
He looked shocked, "Claire,"
"Don't do this," I told him. He shook his head. He wanted me to talk, obviously. But I didn't see what there is too talk about. I slipped up last night. No big deal really. And about my parents? Well of course, I was upset, but I couldn't dwell on it. Life went on. My life went on, at least.
"Thanks for the coffee, Eve, but I think I'm going to take it up to my room," Eve's mouth gaped like a fish as she looked towards Michael then back to me. It was obvious she wanted me to talk too. Well it wasn't happening. I pushed off the sofa and headed back up to my room to bury myself in work. Or music. Or reading. Or anything at all to distract me from what I'd lost.
The funeral was on a Tuesday. I had always hated Tuesday's, but now I had a reason. I had worn a black skater dress with black tights to match the weather. It had poured down all day, and the rain had been torrential. One of the worst climates that this part of Texas had seen in a few years. Ironic, isn't it? The service had been tiring. Nearly everyone I spoke to felt the need to describe to me (with complete actions) the exact height (or lack thereof) I had been when they last saw me. Why did it matter, anyway? People grew up. People died. That was how it worked. I was used to it by now.
It seemed like everyone my parents had ever known were all clamored like sardines into one small church. It never failed to surprise me how you never really appreciate how many people cared until it was a funeral. Wasn't that always the way? You didn't know what you had until it was gone?
I'd spent the week tiptoeing around my roommates, making sure that they believed that everything was fine. I had even dotted concealer around the bags under my eyes to make them think I had been sleeping well, even though I had vivid, terrifying nightmares every time my eyes closed. I waited until late at night to throw away all the food they'd made because I couldn't eat it. My parents had died. Shouldn't they be tiptoeing around me?
In all honesty, though, I couldn't exactly expect them to act like typical friends of the grieving when I wasn't acting like a typical griever (was that even a word?). They thought I was putting up a wall, blocking them out. That wasn't true though. Besides the nightmares and the lack of hunger, I wasn't hiding anything from them. I was just numb. Everything was grey and cold and I didn't feel anything. I was terrible daughter. I wanted to sob hysterically and talk honestly about how much I missed them already. But nothing ever came out.
Maybe that's why I loved the weather today. It was about as cold as I was.
As soon as I got the chance, I slipped away into the kitchen. Before I got to the door, though, I was stopped in my tracks. Somebody was already in there. Multiple somebodies it seemed. I put my ear up against the wall to listen.
"She hasn't cried once," I heard Shane saying. A growl rose in my throat. Why was I always catching them talking about me in whispered tones lately? Why were they talking about me at all?
"Dude, you want your girlfriend to cry?" Michael countered. I smiled slightly. Michael was always the voice of reason in annoying situations like this. He always gave people a good dose of reality.
"No, you know that's not what I meant," Shane explained, "I guess I expected her to be upset or to feel guilty or something,"
My heart stopped. I expected her to feel guilty. Did that mean that he thought I was in some way guilty for their death. It'd been a car crash, and I had nothing to do with it, but I had been harsh on them on the phone. Where had they been going so late at night? Were they coming to see me? I felt bile rise in my throat. Maybe that's why I hadn't been grieving probably. I was guilty, and subconsciously, I knew it. I killed them.
The air which had just a few seconds before been icy cold, suddenly felt stifling hot. It was almost like there wasn't enough oxygen to go around. I had to get out of there. I started rushing towards the front door, pushing past distant relatives and friends as I went.
"Claire, are you okay?" Eve asked as she appeared in my line of vision. Her eyebrows were furrowed and her grey eyes looked concerned. I couldn't focus on that, though. Only one word was circling around my brain like a broken record stuck repeating the same thing a thousand times: Murderer.
My brain registered that it was pitch black as I ran out into the street but I didn't turn around, despite the dangers. I had to keep going. I just ran up and ran until I couldn't run anymore. My hands and legs were numb and I eventually collapsed onto the floor beside a bench and rested my face against the rough wood. I was gasping for breath but I couldn't keep any air in.
"Claire," I heard someone call at me but I couldn't make out who it was. It wasn't deep enough to be Michael or Shane but I knew Eve's voice so it couldn't be her. They called my name again and I was vaguely aware of them getting closer towards me. The world was spinning around me. My fists were curled tightly for dear life against the bench and I was still gasping desperately for air.
"Claire, you're having a panic attack" The voice told me, "You need to take deep breaths,"
"...Can't," I whispered breathlessly.
"You can. In through the nose and out through the mouth. You will only make yourself worse," I tried my hardest to do as they were telling me and after a few seconds, it started to work. I closed my eyes and took long, deep breaths. I was okay. I would be okay. The fuzz in my brain started to clear up and I felt my muscles relax. After what felt like hours, I opened my eyes. I was blinded for a few seconds from the darkness. It really was pitch black. It hit me how much danger I'd been in when I bolted. Anything could have happened. A shiver ran up my spine just thinking about it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a flash of blonde. I automatically turned towards it. I couldn't hide the shocked gasp that escaped my mouth. Amelie was sitting on the bench, gazing into the distance. Disbelief came over me. Amelie was the voice? Seriously? But she had been so... Kind. Amelie wasn't cruel, as such, but she wasn't exactly kind either. I hadn't even noticed that she was at the funeral, let alone noticed her running after me. Why had she bothered? She never cared about my well being before. Not really. Why now?
As if hearing my thoughts, she turned towards me, "You helped me with Sam,". She shrugged and I felt myself freeze from shock. A shrug was so un-Amelie that it looked strange coming from her. She was lying, it was the only explanation. There was another reason she followed me here. I instantly thought back to Myrnin's letter from Amelie. It felt like a lifetime away now, but I still remembered how secretive and angry he had been about it.
Amelie stood up quickly, breaking me out of my thoughts. She smoothed down her black skirt and nodded at someone in the distance. I followed her gaze and saw a smooth black limousine waiting on the side of the road. Amelie turned to me, "You should go home. I would imagine your friends will be worried and it's not... Safe, at this time of night for a human girl like you,"
I almost gave a sigh of relief. She was sounding more and more like her normal self with every passing second. I stumbled into her limo and she ordered for the driver to take me home. An awkward silence filled the vehicle as thought after thought filled my brain. Myrnin's secret letter from Amelie. Amelie attending the funeral. Amelie chasing me out here and actually helping me and being nice. Something didn't add up and I could bet my life that it had to do with my parents. Whatever it was, Amelie knew.
And I was determined to find out.
