Hey, guys. Sorry it's been so long since I've written. College has been killing me, but tonight I felt particularly philosophical, so I typed this up. I personally have never been depressed, but it intrigues me. So thanks to tumblr for my inspiration. And of course, thanks to all my reviewers!
Myka had always known Claudia was smart. Really smart. It was obvious from the way she talked, the way she carried herself. Even with a photographic memory, Claudia could out think her a billion times over. But now, walking around her room as she disappeared, she began to see why.
Claudia liked books. Not as much as computers maybe, but it was obvious that the girl read and Myka was always very proud of that.
She examined the teen's bookshelf. Mostly 16th century, like when she first examined the cramped apartment Claudia was living in before the Warehouse. But Claudia also had great literary works too. Macbeth, Great Expectations… it went on and on.
Maybe it was because she grew up in a bookstore, but Myka was adamant about the fact that you were always able to tell who a person was based on the five most battered books on their shelf.
Her trained eyes landed on one. It was hidden way in the back, almost covered with the newer, shinier, less used books. But it was the most read by far. Black with a broken spine and gold lettering. The Bell Jar by Slyvia Plath. She remembered what Claudia had said to her once when Pete was having the life drained out of him by Sylvia Plath's typewriter. "Myka," she had said casually "I spent some serious time in the bell jar. I know who Sylvia Plath is."
But now as the book fell open in her hand, she felt as if she were invading privacy.
The yellowing pages were worn, with tear-stains and dog-eared over and over again. Notes were written in the margin with black ink, red ink, pencil. She could see the handwriting evolving over the years. Little scribbles depicting Claudia's most intimate thoughts.
This was Claudia before she knew her.
This was the book that Claudia kept. As a survivor? As a reminder to never again be that person? She didn't know.
It was the toughness that kept her alive. Maybe she will never understand what happened to Claudia. Maybe she can't. And that's not her fault.
But as she closes the book and places it back on the shelf, one particular scribble was branded permanently in her memory.
"Just because you're breathing doesn't mean you're alive."
The teen's outburst today only caused Myka to see her in a different light.
The girl would always have her support, for better or worse. And maybe Myka would always not know how to show her that, but if it came down to it, she would be there fighting until the end.
Because Claudia was Claudia. And Myka was Myka.
Always and forever.
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