Crimson Wings

by kate langdon

He thought that once he slept with the Princess, this feeling would go away. No more would he have to deal with the crushing weight pulling at his stomach whenever he saw her. He thought that she would no longer weigh him down, or hold him captive with every kiss, every sigh, every look. He was wrong. He needed a cigarette. (Billy/OC)

21. Mother, Mother, Sister, Brother

(I know I said a super long chapter… but I ran out of time sorry. It's the normal length now)

Yo, disclaimer: Any homophobic/racist views expressed are not my own views. Clare's views on homosexuality: she's lived a very sheltered life, so if any language she uses is offensive, then I apologise. I was trying to convey how someone from the 80's who doesn't know/accept as much as someone from 2018 might think.

IT'S THE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF THIS STORY! WOO! It's was a struggle sometimes but all of you guys' favs, follows and kind words have kept me going. Thank you all!

I hope you enjoy this chapter! Merry Christmas!

…

Chapter 21: Mother, Mother, Sister, Brother

Fingers, long and thin and razor sharp, pressed against my scalp. Its talons embedded themselves into my skin. Red copper dripped into my eyes and fell off my flesh before merging with the black sludge. It bubbled and twisted up as more of it emerged from the rusted sink hole. A blob of it spurted fourth and hit my cheek.

Something grabbed at my shoulders and pulled me back. The unknown-something pulled me from the sink and we fell back onto the tile floor. I was grateful to be away from the spitting sink hole, yet I knew I wasn't out of danger. I whacked at the thing, trying to free myself.

"Stop." His voice broke through my panic, piercing my ears. "It's me."

"Billy…" I sobbed. I wrapped my arms around myself as I curled up between his legs. His arms came to rest around me. I nestled into his naked chest and breathed in the scent of him.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Didn't you see… see…" I said.

"No, that's why I was asking."

"There… there was this thing." I said as I pulled my head up to look in his eyes. "Didn't you see it?"

"I didn't see anything." His brow creased deeper than it was.

"But there… you didn't see it?" I pointed at the sink. "Go look. Billy, there's… go… there's- it was coming out of the sink…"

"It's just water." He said, his eyes searching mine. Was he worried?

Water was spurting from the broken faucet like blood from an artery, spilling onto the floor, spreading closer to us. I shrunk back and into Billy's body.

He spoke but it didn't register in my mind.

"Wait! No, no, wait. It got on my face. Look! Is it on me? It's on me." I scratched at my cheek.

"Don't do that to your face." Billy said as he snatched my wrist away and cradled it between his hands.

"Look, please! Is it on my face?"

"Is what on your face?" He asked as his thumb began to rub circles into my skin.

"The black-"

"There's nothing there!" The thumb circles stopped.

"Nothing… No, there is." I said, wrenching my wrist away and standing to look at the mirror. The face I had drawn had melted away. Instead, my naked reflection met me. Tears fell warm against cold red cheeks. My thumb smoothed the skin where the black mess should've been. There wasn't even a point in checking the sink hole to see if the rest of it was there. I knew it had vanished too.

A dry and bitter feeling passed through me and settled in my bones. This feeling was familiar. Had I just had another episode? Was I bad again? With eyes closed, I let my arms snake up to cradle my shoulders as I wept. I felt Billy move behind me. He brought something rough against my skin before wrapping me in it. He'd found a towel for me.

…

Billy, with a stony face, had gathered me up in his warm arms and carried me to his bedroom before he lay me on the bed still smelling of him and us and sex.

"Has that happened- was that an- an 'episode' or…?" He asked as he went to pick up gym shorts. He slid them up toned legs and over his behind and I reluctantly watched. The shorts were followed by a black tee which covered up his stomach and the tops of his arms. I was left in my towel.

"An episode?" I asked.

"Because if it was…"

I wasn't sure if it was.

"…I think we should tell Steve." He rubbed his hand along his forehead.

"No."

"He's your brother. They should help their little sisters. They should always know what to do. And I know me and him don't like each other but you were… and when I found you I was so-"

"Scared?" I asked.

He didn't reply.

"You were scared. Join the club." I said.

He scoffed. "I'm gonna sort out the sink. You should get some sleep."

"Don't. You can't leave me alone. Not after that."

"Look, Clare, there's no proof." He shrugged.

"What?"

"Clare-"

"Don't you mean 'Crazy Clare'?" I asked, sour.

"What?"

"You obviously don't believe me. No 'proof'?" I let out a sour chuckle. "So, you didn't believe me when I told you about the upside down and the monsters, right? There wasn't any 'proof' of that. You were there when I made the roses come back. That's evidence enough, right? Or did you just want to the fuck the freak?"

"Oh, fuck off."

"You wanted to fuck the girl with freaky powers."

"You know that isn't true." His arms crossed.

"Do I? I haven't got any 'proof' of that." I tilted my head. "How am I supposed to believe anything you say without 'proof'?"

"Oh my Go-" He cut himself off. "I don't know what I believe, okay? I just meant that all this shit about an upside down, sideways, whatever world and- and monsters is a little crazy. So, don't blame me if sometimes I have my doubts."

"'A little crazy'? Don't you mean a lot crazy?" I asked. "Crazy like Crazy Clare."

"Christ's sake. That's not what I meant." He thrust his hands in the air. "Put yourself in my shoes. If I told you about all the shit in this town, would you believe me? And don't say you would. I know you're stubborn enough to, but don't say it or I swear to God…"

I wiped away a stray tear before running my hands through the ends of my hair. I hissed when my fingers caught a not and was made aware of a lightly throbbing pain on my scalp.

The talons.

The talons were proof. They'd cut into my scalp and made thick blood flow from my veins. I brought my hand up to my hair and frantically felt around.

"What are you doing?" Billy said, as a hopeless glint settled in his ocean eyes.

I ignored him. My fingers searched through tresses of damp hair, the roots warmed and nearly dry from my temperature, until I found them. On the left side of my skull were two marks, still fresh and sore. I searched further and found three more, all slowly weeping blood. I brought my hand back and saw red. Billy saw it too.

"What's that from?" He asked.

"The thing that was holding me down. It was real." I said, more to myself than to him. "The nightmares are real."

"Maybe you just hit your head."

"And cut it open in five separate places?" I scoffed.

He shrugged. "Look, for once, I'm actually not in the mood to fight more than we already have. Just get some sleep and I'll go fix the sink."

"But-"

"I'll stay until you fall asleep." He said as he took a seat next to me on the bed. "You won't be alone."

"That's not the only thing I'm worried about."

He frowned.

"What if it gets you too?" I asked, sliding my hand onto his.

"It won't." He shook his head. "I promise."

"Don't make a promise you can't keep."

"What do you think is actually going on?"

"Do you want a serious answer?" My hold on his hand tightened.

"What else would I want?" He asked as his wrinkled brow deepened.

"'Proof', but I haven't got any. Not any that's enough for you to believe me."

He rolled his eyes.

I racked my brain for what to tell him and then my mind clapped like lighting on one single thought; his sister. The little girl, with ocean eyes, matted hair and translucent skin in a soaked through nightgown was her. I knew it. Or maybe it was something that had taken her form.

But how would I say any of that to Billy?

'Hey, your dead sister, yeah she's haunting me.'

'Your sister, whose death you blame yourself for, yeah, she's back as a ghost who likes to have tea parties with dead Barbara Holland in the upside down.'

Best case scenario; he tells Steve and I end up in the loony bin again.

Worst case; Billy never talks to me again. And the sweet dream of him and I would be over. I don't think I'd ever care for someone like this ever again. The thought of him leaving – it was like all heat abandoning the sun in one fell swoop, leaving it a ball of useless dead rock, rotating endlessly, cold and alone in eternal dark.

I took his hand into my lap and traced along his life line. Then his heart line.

"Billy was your… please don't freak out… did you sister have blue eyes, blue like yours?"

He looked at me disgusted. I nearly aborted the whole thing and rushed to gather my clothes and run. But then he nodded.

"And… uh, did she have tea parties?"

"…All the time." His blue eyes glistened.

"Did she want a dog?" I asked. She'd told me that before in a nightmare, just before I'd gotten the call from the vets telling me that the dog we'd saved was dead.

"We couldn't get one. Mom was allergic." His fingers took hold of mine, halting my exploration. "How…?"

"I think I can do more than bring the dead back. I think I can see them too. Dream about them." I said, vision becoming foggy.

"I…" Billy started, eyes on his window. My eyes followed his seeing the twisted forest just behind his house stirred the memories of all my dreams about the little girl. She had wanted me to drink that sludge, but I couldn't fathom why.

"Billy, I'm-"

"No. I… I can't…" He trailed off. His eyes, blue and wide and teary, were lost. They departed from the window and darted around his room, searching for meaning or something, anything to cling on to, but there was nothing. Absolutely nothing. I wanted his eyes to find mine and cling to me, but he chose not to. He instead, got up from the bed and took long steps to the door, opened it and left. I heard a door shut and assumed it was him entering the bathroom.

My nose prickled, and warmth began to trickle down my face and onto my neck, tickling the skin as it went. I wiped the wetness away. The pillow and the smell of him enveloped me as I lay back. My eyes closed in an attempt to stop the tears. But closing them only made them flow freer down the sides of my face.

…

It was dark inside his room. Despite being beneath his bedsheets, I was cold – which was my body had come to expect when Billy wasn't around.

I recalled hearing the slam of a door somewhere – it must have woken me. Who had slammed it? My heart beat faster as thoughts of talons and monsters filled my thoughts like smoke in black lungs. Trying to calm myself, I rolled over and breathed in the musky scent locked into his pillows.

Heavy footsteps and a loud voice broke the ice of silence.

"What happened to the sink?" A gruff voice demanded.

I jolted upright and held the towel tightly to my chest. Billy's voice was softer than his fathers.

"…accident… happened after you left this morning…"

As the footsteps got closer, the voices became clearer.

Billy said, "So, I took Max to school and came back and tried to fix it-"

"Who else is here? Are they responsible?"

"What? No, dad. No one is here." He pleaded. "Dad, just chill."

"'Chill'?" Neil asked. "The sink is broken, and you skipped school. Again."

The footsteps got closer. Neil was coming here.

I gathered up my clothes and rushed to the wardrobe. I looked back to check if I'd left anything. There was a sock. A single frilly sock which peeked out from under the bed. I stepped forward but before I could get it, the door handle began to turn. I dove into the wardrobe.

Heavy footsteps followed by lighter ones invaded the space.

"See? I told you; no one's here." Billy rasped.

"Whose shoes are by the front door, huh, boy?" Neil asked.

"I don't know! Maybe Max got new ones."

"Don't lie, you little shit." Neil growled.

"How do you know if I'm lying or not?" Billy said, challenging him.

"Maxine wears sneakers, not loafers." Neil said as a floor board creaked under him.

"Oh, paying attention to shoes now are you? Careful, people in small towns don't like fags, remember?" Billy said, toying with him. "That is why we moved here, right?"

"You're the fag here. I wasn't caught with some black boy on my cock."

My eyes widen.

Did he mean…? Was Billy…? But we'd had sex… I thought he liked girls. I thought he liked me, or was I just his cover? No, I couldn't be – his dad hated me. Why carry on with a girl if your dad hates them?

"Dad-"

"Shut it, boy." Neil growled. "And you call me 'Sir' from now on."

Silence fell, and it was as oppressive the darkness which had draped itself over my body when I had shut the door. Was Neil looking around the room for the signs of a stranger? Did he spot the sock I abandoned in my haste? Could he smell us and what we'd done? Did he note the messy bed sheets, creased and smelling of sex? Could he hear me breathing short and shallow gulps of stale air?

I covered my mouth with a clenched fist and held onto my breath. I was going under stormy waters and I wasn't sure of when I could breathe again. A tear formed from fear clung to my weak eyelashes.

I heard a heavy footstep. And then another. One after the other, all in my direction.

A final one came, and I felt the weight of a stolid form bend the wooden flooring. He was outside the wardrobe.

The tear fell from my lashes.

The handle of the door creaked under a heavy hand.

"You swear, do you?" Neil asked, voice low.

The door handle twisted. I wiped the tear away and braced myself. Dim yellow light flooded into the space. I looked up. There he was. Stood there. Eyes cold. Corpse-cold. And yet, full of fire and fury and rage. A rage I couldn't understand.

His rough hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me from the wardrobe. I held onto the towel, making sure it wouldn't fall from me.

"Dad-"

"Not only have I told you no girls in the house, but I also thought I made it clear that-"

"Dad, just…" Billy started.

"Just what, Billy? What could you possibly-"

"Mr Hargrove." I interrupted.

"What whore?" His grip tightened.

I wrenched my arm from his grip and stood back against the wardrobe, clutching at the towel. Neil's eyes – the same color as Billy's yet so starkly dissimilar – pierced into mine. His form was only inches away from mine.

"He's told me about what you do to him." I said.

His eyes remained the same. There was no panic, no shame.

My eyes found Billy, whose mouth was agape and whose eyes were full of fear.

"Leave him alone from now on." I said.

"And what are you, little miss priss, going to do if I don't. He's my son after all. I can do what I want." Neil said.

"I'm friends with Jim Hopper. Chief of police." I said, chin tilting upward. "So, I'd suggest that you never lay another finger on him ever again."

He shook his head, scowling at me. Then a sickening smile spread across his face. He stepped from the room, never once looking at Billy. Neil closed the door, quiet and slow. His footsteps pattered down the hallway and then the front door was opened and closed. A car engine started and drifted away down the street.

He was gone. The nightmare was over. A smile took over my face. My eyes found Billy. His brow was creased with anger.

"What?" I said. "He's gone."

"For now."

"Yeah, I know. But you can always come to mine. And if he ever touches you again, I'll tell Hopper."

"Didn't we already have this conversation earlier?" He asked with arms crossed.

"What?"

"I don't want the chief knowing about this. I don't want anyone to know."

"And I won't tell them."

"But you just said-"

"It was a threat. He can't hurt you now because he'll think that I'll tell Hopper and he'll be locked up."

"Clare, he'll still do it. I know he will. And when he does it and doesn't go to jail, he'll know you're too chicken to tell anyone."

"But I'm not too chicken." I said.

Billy's eyes narrowed.

"I'm not saying you're chicken either."

"Of course." He rolled his eyes as he plopped down onto his bed.

"Look, if it happens again then we'll deal with it. Together. Okay?"

"I think you should get dressed." He looked at his watch. "I have to pick up Max from school soon."

"Oh, okay." I said, voice laced with disappointment.

"Do you want to come with me?" He asked.

"I'd love to."

…

His Camaro's engine growled to life beneath us.

As I got changed in his room, the silence between us grew tangible. There was one thing gnawing at my fried brain. Neil had mentioned Billy and another boy… doing things. And I didn't know much about those things, I'd never met anyone like that before – not to my knowledge at least. But they must be fine, despite what others preach. And if Billy was one, then that didn't change him in the slightest. He was still the most annoying prat I'd ever known. And despite this, I felt as if we were friends. Who he had liked in the past wouldn't change that, but I couldn't help the ache in my heart when I thought of him with another.

And now as we sat in his car, I had nothing yet so many things to say. My mouth opened and words came forth like vomit.

"I heard him, y'know." I said.

"About what?" He asked.

"You know."

"Do I?" He asked.

"He called you a-a 'fag' and said you… he caught you…" I mumbled. "But you… you still want me though? Right? Because if I'm just a cover for you…"

"You're not. You're not that." He said.

"Then… what? You like-like both or…?"

"Yeah. I guess I do. I mean, I don't know…" He trailed off, eyes on the muddy road.

"Talk to me. That's all I want right now. Talk." I sniffed as my hand lay on his knee. I caught his eyes and tried to give him strength.

"I'd never, ya'know, been with a boy before. It was new. And he was new. New to our school and we got along. My dad hated him, obviously. But we still hung out. And it just went from there."

"Sounds so normal." I said.

"It kind of was apart from the sneaking around. But then last summer, he came over to mine when Neil, Susan and Max went out. Max felt sick and they came home early."

"Your dad found you."

Billy nodded. "Look, I know it's wrong-"

"'Wrong'?" I asked.

"Being with, y'know… another guy."

"That's not 'wrong'. Don't be ashamed. I mean, you've been with plenty of people… and you shouldn't be ashamed of being with any of them." I bit my lip. "Did you love him?"

His brow furrowed in thought. Jealousy as hot as a fire poker stabbed at my flesh as I thought of him and his summer lover. How thrilling that kind of love must've been. Like Romeo and Juliet.

But then Billy answered my question.

"No, I didn't. I liked him. But it wasn't love, I know that now…" His eyes pierced mine before he took a deep breath as if his next words were painful. "If you don't want to be with me now, I'll leave you alone. If that's what you want."

"What? No, that's, no I don't want that. Ever." My hand tightened on his knee.

"But I would leave if you wanted. 'Cause I care about your feelings more than mine. I've never felt that way before. Not about anyone. Not ever."

"I don't want you to leave." I said. "I want you. As you are. I want all of you, for always."

"For always." He whispered.

"Well, if we're exchanging secrets, I may as well tell you one of mine."

"You're gay too?"

"Ha ha." I rolled my eyes.

"What is it?" He asked.

"You know earlier, when we were at mine and my mom- mother was there? She wanted to talk to me about something…"

"Yeah. And that 'something' is?" He asked.

"She's not my real mother."

…

Wednesday 5th December 1984

The evening settled over Hawkins like death.

"You used to sleep walk." Sarah Harrington said as she sat across from me in the living room. The pale wallpaper matched her blonde locks and I was once again reminded that she was not the woman who birthed me.

"When you were little," she carried on in a trance, "you went downstairs and brought photos up to your bed with you, all while you were asleep." She smiled sadly. "My mind keeps going back to that. Back to when you were young and cute and didn't know anything. Back to when you didn't know anything about me and your father…"

"But he's not." I said with a voice as cold as Sarah Harrington normally was.

"No. He isn't your father." She reached out to me but then, as if realising her mistake, she withdrew he hand with a flinch and placed it over the other one in her lap. "And I'm not your mother."

"Can I tell Steve?" I asked. "I mean, I don't know why I'm asking. It's my secret. I can do what I want with it."

I stared at my reflection in the mirror which jutted out from the wall across from us. I looked older, more like Joyce. I had the veil of loss covering my eyes and I wondered if this made me an adult.

…

Thursday 6th December 1984

"So, mom and dad being back early…" Steve began as he brought the car to a stop in his usual place of the parking lot. "What do you think about that?"

"Um, there's nothing really to think." I said, leaning back against the window. I studied the students streaming in through the double doors and past the 'Go Tigers' sign and thought of whether they had normal boring lives or perhaps they all went through crazy shit like the gang and I had.

"You seem unsure." He said as his head tilted.

"I'm unsure about a lot of things." I said before I opened the door and stepped out, slamming it shut behind me. Steve followed suit and then came the slam of his door.

"You okay?"

"There's something I need to tell you." I blurted. "Some things, actually."

I needed to tell him about Clara Hertz, about dad (my uncle, really) working for the lab, and Billy… as much as he'd hate it, I needed to tell him I was with Billy now. And there was something else too – the dreams, no, the nightmares. I knew Steve would understand those – the bags under his eyes told me so.

"What?" He asked as he walked around the car to me.

"I-uh… I'm just not sure what to start with or how to tell you." I said as his broad shoulders blocked my sight of other students.

Just then, an angry car engine roared through the parking lot. I went on my tip toes and searched over Steve's shoulder for his Camaro. My eyes found the blue immediately.

Steve, who had followed my eyes, said, "Is this about him?"

"No, yes. Partly." I said.

"What's happened?" He frowned.

"Don't go all big brother on me, okay? Me and Billy-"

"Hargrove." Steve said, voice furnace-hot as he crossed his arms. "You used to call him Hargrove, not Billy. What's changed?"

"He's my…" boyfriend.

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"…friend." I said, unable to ignore the shame that bubbled in my stomach. I should've told him. That was my moment and I blew it.

Steve leant back against the car and all the parking lot was in view again. My eyes caught onto Billy and Max talking just like me and Steve were. Big brother, little sister. Images of Billy's other little sister stirred in my mind like water draining down a sink hole.

"What aren't you telling me?" Steve asked.

I wasn't sure if telling him about my nightmares would do anything other than worry him. Telling him about the sink incident would mean telling him I was at Billy's house and I wasn't ready to deal with his need to protect me this early in the morning.

I was sure Billy didn't believe me about the sink. Why couldn't he just trust me? And we didn't discuss his little sister in full which was something I had to do – but not yet, if ever.

My eyes went to Billy again and watched as him and Max parted, each of them walking to their buildings. Among the waves of people, Billy vanished through the school's entrance.

"If I tell you, you'll think I've been having episodes again and I swear I haven't been." I said before biting my lip.

"What? Fuck, Clare. Is that why you saw that doctor a few weeks back?"

"No. And I told you, the doctor I saw was a body doctor, not a mental one." I shook my head. "I've been having nightmares. Bad ones."

"Same here." He said, voice gruff, as he looked behind me. Darkness settled in his eyes and replaced nearly all his warmth.

"What're yours about?" I asked as I stepped closer.

"They're the same as yours probably. They're about the Upside Down."

Silence fell over us. I leant against his car and pressed my head to his shoulder for a second before I pulled away.

"Class is going to start soon." I said. "We should get-"

"I was hoping you'd tell me." Steve said. "I thought if I steered the conversation in the right direction, you'd tell me."

"Tell you…? Tell you what?" I asked as I stepped away from the car.

"I heard you talking last night with mom. She said her and dad weren't your parents which- that's just not true. It can't be. Not when we look so much alike. How could you not be my little sister?"

"Steve…"

"It's not true, is it?" He said, eyes focused on mine.

"You're my cousin." I said. "Dad's sister – your aunt – that's my birth mother."

He shook his head, unimpressed.

"I've known for a few days now." I said.

"Oh, have you?" Steve said, sour.

"Yes."

"Who else knows?" He asked.

"Joyce. I told Jonathan about her but I don't know if he's aware that she's my birth mother…" I trailed off.

"Jonathan?" He whined. "He knows? Him? Oh, and for God's sake, please don't tell me Hargrove knows."

I didn't speak, instead I let silence fall over us. Steve's eyes widened.

"He knew? What, are you going around telling everyone?" He waved his hands about.

"No." I said.

"Then how come he knew before me?"

"I told you. He's my friend."

"But I'm your brother!" He said, and pain took over his features as he concluded something. "But… I'm not your brother. Am I?"

My nose started to tingle as my vision blurred. I caught a glimpse of him before he turned from me and I saw that his features mirrored mine – glassy eyes and red cheeks.

I stepped toward him and put my hand on his shoulder.

"But you are. And you'll always be my brother. My stupid over protective brother who loves to bake and baby sit and always leave the toilet seat up and hates writing stupid college essays."

"Everybody hates writing those." He sniffed.

"I like essays." I said in mock insult.

"Nerd." He said as he turned back to me, a playful smirk on his lips.

I scoffed and whacked at his arm.

"There's something else." I said, regretful that I had to drop even more on top of his shoulders.

"Fuck. What?" He asked.

"Dad worked at the lab."

…

Friday 13th October 1967

Clara Hertz

I had no money, I had no home.

Steven and Sarah's new home was decadent. White walls and cream rugs and vases spilling with flowers. It looked like those home magazines I used to read when I used to dream that one day it would all be mine – the nice house, the loving husband and the beautiful children.

"Steven, you're my brother." I said from my spot in the foyer. "Please, help me out."

He was halfway up the stairs and he looked down at me with his dark eyes.

"It's not my fault mom and dad kicked you out when you got knocked up." He said, voice cool like he didn't even care. He probably didn't.

I scoffed.

He carried on, "…and it's also not my fault that the money you did have was thrown away on medical bills because of your little car accident."

"Well, I have nothing right now." My hand pressed to my stomach. Not nothing. "My baby has no one but me."

"What about the father?" He asked, taking one step down.

"This baby doesn't have a father." I said, head tilted up.

"He skipped town then." He said, face blank.

"You say that like you're not surprised." I shook my head.

"He's 27. You're 17. Of course, I'm not surprised." He placed his hands on his hips.

"Look, I just need some place to stay or- or food or money." I said. "And I thought you – as my brother – would help me… I'm thirteen weeks along. I'll accept anything."

He took the remainder of the steps down toward me, all the while his face was wrinkled as if battling his thoughts. Then, once on the same level as me, he spoke.

"I work the legal side of things at this… place. They pay good money to run tests on pregnant women."

"What place?" I asked.

"I'll take you there tomorrow." He put his hands in his pockets as his eyes left mine.

"Amazing." Relief flooded through me. "So, I heard your wife gave birth a few months ago."

"Yes. We called him Steven Jr." He said with pride shining in his eyes as he gave a tight-lipped smile.

"Can I meet him?" I asked.

He nodded.

I smiled at my brother and I felt my baby stir inside me. As I smoothed my hand over her, I wondered if she was as relieved as I was.

…

(I hope you weren't confused with that last part – I thought it would work if Steve was named after his dad, just like Clare is sort of named after Clara. It's okay if you skipped over it if you were bored.)

Hope you enjoyed this one (despite it being kind of fillerish)!

Last year, I wrote a Christmas chapter for this story and I've been writing what happens before that chapter this whole year and I'm gutted I didn't get to share that part of the story before Christmas this year :(

So…

I'm aiming for maybe another ten chapters (woop woop)! But I go back to uni in late January so after that time, updates will be sparse.

Be brutally honest with me, is the 'Clare's real momma' plot line good or bad? Is it a yay or a nay?