A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! š This is part 2 of a 2 chapter update. Again, I wrote too much, had to divide it into separate parts haha. Similar to Chapter 29 "The Funeral," this will be told from present, to past, back to present, in order to get to the full picture. As a trigger warning, please note that these chapters will mention adult themes of sexual assault, though it will not go into explicit detail on this website. As usual, it will simply elude to it, though minimally and not descriptively. If you find this hard to read, please do not force yourself to. In addition, this chapter does mention drug usage, and violence.
"A bottle," Gray told Doug. "Jack Daniels."
He smiled over at him, rifling through the cabinet of liquor. "Hmm, I'm outta that. Shipment's comin' in after the holidays."
"Damn it," he said.
"How 'bout this Knob Creek instead? It ain't bad."
Gray considered this. He wasn't planning on breaking routine tonight.
Breaking routine. Just listen to him.
"Try a shot of it with me, son." Doug beamed at him, and Gray stopped feeling bad about sleeping with his daughter right under his nose, the second the bourbon hit his throat. It was good, it was always good and he really needed this.
"What the hell?!" He felt someone pull on the back of his shirt, trying her best to drag him away. Ann was too weak to hardly even move him, but he decided to drag his feet and comply with her anyway. Maybe it would get her to give him what he had been planning on asking her for.
"Lighten up," Doug called out to her. "We were just doing a shot!"
Ann glared at Gray, shoving him in the corner. They were nearāwait for itāthe inn's coat check closet.
That had felt like lightyears ago.
"You shouldn't be drinking, dipshit," she snapped. Gray had a feeling that she wouldn't be letting him leave with a bottle of anything tonightāAnn was physically weak, but persistent as hell. Whatever she told her father, went.
He immediately decided to change the subject to what he was needing from her. "Do you still have your Ativan?"
She looked confused. "Huh?"
The last time he slept with her back in the spring, after he went to clean up in her bathroom, he saw her anxiety benzodiazepines on the cabinet. She said she didn't like taking them anymore, but he had a feeling that she still hadn't gotten rid of the medication.
"I know you do," he said.
Ann scowled at him. "What're youā?"
"I know you don't take 'em anymore. Can you just give them to me?"
"⦠Christ, are you serious?!" Her cerulean eyes were flashing; she looked about ready to kill him. "You can't have them, Gray! Are you mental or something?!"
"Not really."
"You're high if you think that I'm gonna give them to you."
"I'm not high, that's what I'm tryna accomplish here if you just give me your friggin' benzos."
Ann shook her head in disbelief. She looked disappointed; this is how a lot of people were facing him lately. The worst was how he made Claire feel earlierāhe hated seeing her like that, and it was entirely his fault for it. All that he did was drive her father away from him, and closer to Trent.
"Gray, please don't do anything stupid," Ann said, her tone pleading. "Why don't you spend the night with us? So you're notā"
"All alone?" he finished.
She stared at him.
Gray shoved his hands in his pockets, ready to make his departure. But he still wanted to try one last time. "You gonna give 'em to me or not?"
She pushed past him, scoffing, making her way back to the bar as he followed suit. "You're a moron if you think I'm gonna support your self-destructive behaviour, and if you think that Claire is either, thenā"
"Screw off." He pushed Claire out of his mind; not wanting to even consider what she could be doing right then and there at Trent's. It felt like he had permanently ruined shit with her due to his inability to not be an asshole.
Doug tapped his shot glass against the tiled counter, trying to get their attention with the noise. "What's, uh⦠what seems to be the problem here?"
The two of them glared at one another.
"Nothing," said Ann with a scoff. "Gray was just leaving."
And she spun on her heel, up the stairs to her room. The door shut heavily, its slam echoing around the bar.
That was fine by Grayāhe'd get something stronger than a goddamn panic pill while he was at it.
"I love you, Claire." Trent's voice was so faraway in her ears. But when she weakly opened her eyes again, she realized that he was right there in front of her. "Say that you love me."
She felt like she was looking through a dizzying kaleidoscope. Everything was different, appearing as though it was all through a looking glass. Like Alice after Wonderland.
She could only bring herself to gently smile up at him, trying to press her lips against his, but lacking any and all energy. She needed to sleep.
"Say it," he repeated, more firmly.
"Mhm," she said, eyes shutting slowly again.
He took her face between his thumb and his remaining fingers, squeezing. The force made her wake up a little. "Say that you want this."
She couldn'tāshe was just so sleepy.
"Claire."
"I love you very much," she whispered. She shut her eyes; the dream that she was having felt so surreal. The bed under her was soft and pillowy⦠why did she anticipate it to be hard and firm?
Trent's hand traced its way around her skin, but it was a mere apparition in her mind; Claire needed to fall into a deep slumber. So exhausted... she was just totally drained. But there would be no more fighting, no more arguing, nothing. She was getting marriedāshe was getting everything she ever wanted. Her own family, her own life, and everything in between.
When his hand touched her, it caused her to weakly lift her head up. Everything felt like an underwater sequence.
"Trā¦Trent," Claire began, but her eyes started closing again. Was any of this real? It was like some kind of a hallucination.
And she was just so exhausted; she couldn't determine what was her fantasy, and what was her reality.
"Shh," he said. "Remember? You love me."
She heard buttons unclasp, listened to the faraway noise of a zipper being pulled down. They sounded unrealāmaybe it was all unreal.
Claire found herself relaxing, brought her head back down to the softness beneath her, staring up at his linoleum ceiling. She imagined every constellation ever in front of her, touched the Big Dipper with her finger, smiled up at Ursa Major. She traced out her zodiac constellation: she was a Cancer at heart, right on the cusp of Leo. The thought of a crab and a lion almost made her smile. She absently found herself enthralled with the archer's constellation: Sagittarius, doodling its intricacy into the sky.
That was Gray's star sign.
She immediately dropped her hands, feeling like she was about to cry.
Her skin felt colder, too; more exposed. She couldn't sleep like this.
"Blanket," Claire murmured, rubbing her eyes. She was sad and nodding off all over again.
"Don't worry," Trent told her. "You'll be warm."
Mary's parents were fighting like usual.
This was no shock to her, and it was why she never had people over. Her father was always in disagreement with her mother, and her mother was always trying to keep up this falsified lie that they were living.
Mary had to obey though; she was like a lap dog at their beck-and-call. She told herself that she would never be brainwashed, that George Orwell's 1984 would never become her reality.
But maybe Big Brother already kind of was.
"Where do you think you're going?" Anna demanded, storming out in front of her husband. She blocked his path, defiant arms crossed over her body as though this would stop him from leaving.
It never did.
"Out," Basil answered, scoffing.
"You're not going to spend the Starry Night Festival with your family?!"
Mary almost laughed. If this was a family, her mother needed to check out the Webster's dictionary that they kept downstairs for a better, clear-cut definition.
Still, she couldn't hate her mother; she always listened to her. Whatever she said, whatever she did, she had to take as gospel.
"I'll be back later," her father mumbled, removing his coat from their hallway closet. Mary sat at the table in their den, unperturbed. She polished her glasses absently, returning back to her novel. This fighting was nothing new to her.
"Like hell you will. Just try and you'll find this door completely locked tonight when you get back! And Mary will not be opening it for you."
The way that Mary saw it, her father would have never cheated in the first place if Ann's mother hadn't been the temptress that persuaded him to stray all of those years ago. Not to speak ill of the dead, but she was a menace, having completely betrayed her mom's trust. The destruction of Mary's family that occurred well-before she was born was all that woman's fault.
According to Anna.
It was easy to make a dead woman the scapegoat.
The drumming of someone's knuckles was prompted over their door. Anna froze, a worried look crossing her face.
"W-who is that? Oh, dear Lord."
Mary knew her mother must have been worried that it was one of her friends listening in on all the fighting. She had to keep feeding lies to everyone that she came across.
Her father scowled, opening the door with zero hesitation.
"Uh, sorry to⦠bug you."
"Not at all," said Basil, his tone levelled. "Why don't you come on in, before you catch a cold?"
Did Mary expect to see the town's volatile blacksmith at their door this Starry Night Evening?
Not a chance in hell.
But she was able to put two and two together instantly.
Gray was here for her father's side business. You know, the one that her mother must have discovered years ago, but that she pretended not to know about. Just to keep up their image.
Maybe all of this pretending from birth made Mary cynical by nature. Maybe she was always bound to be like this.
Gray simply nodded at her. He already looked wired. The guy had serious substance abuse issues, even if he tried to plainly hide it. And it made sense, given that his father decided to mix double the amount of Prozac with fentanyl-laced hydrocodone one night. Watching your mother die and then being unable to find a pulse in your daddy's neck would do that to a person, she supposed.
Mary didn't know if Basil was the one who supplied Gray's dad with the Vicodin.
And it wasn't like she could bring herself to ask him either.
"Grayson!" Anna cooed. "How⦠wonderful to find you here on a night like this. Do you want a water bottle? Mary can go and fetch you one."
Fetch? She really was like a dog.
"No," Gray said, rude as usual. Mary couldn't believe that once upon a time, she had tried to work him down⦠all for some stupid bet that she thought could make her fit in.
"Anna," said Basil. "Why don't you go upstairs a minute? I need you to find me my hat before I leave."
Her mother just glared at him, walking slowly up their stairs.
Jesus, just get a divorce already.
There was no way that Anna didn't know what was going on here. She was not a stupid woman.
Basil gave her an expected look, and Mary just obediently went into their kitchen, giving him the privacy that she knew he required. Though she could already picture his next moves as he walked over to the side of the living room, pulling out the fourth book on the left side of their shelf. It was where he hid his supplies.
Her spoiled, rich cousin in Forget-Me-Not Valley had a substance thing going on too; she only did designer drugs, but shit, who supplied her? Was there just an endless supply of drug dealers, the same way there were always mailmen around so that there'd never be any kinds of shortages? "Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night⦠we'll get your fix to you, no prob."
"You can't do this shit when my wife and kid are home," Basil muttered. "That's my goddamn rule."
"Man, screw off, will ya? You think they don't know what you got set up here?" She could almost hear Gray's smirk.
"You want a fix or not?" her father snapped.
"⦠Do you have any percs?"
"I have cody."
"Yeah, that's fine."
Her father pushed some books away quietly, rummaging though the big red one until she heard a bag being crinkled. He kept things in Ziploc bags, because orange pill bottles made too much noise. He could just keep them in empty Tic Tac boxes to keep things inconspicuous, but she digressed.
"Don't go mixing this shit with booze," Basil instructed, as though he was the expert on how to recreationally take codeine responsibly. She listened to the sound of money being exchanged for these goods and services. If you could call it that. "I'm not responsible if you die."
To her surprise, she heard Gray chuckle. "Yeah, sounds good."
As Mary emerged from their kitchen with a water bottle, her father took this opportunity to dart out their front door without saying goodbye.
She just handed Gray the Evian. None of this was surprising to her anymore. "Better stay hydrated."
Gray shrugged, taking it from her hesitantly. It was sealedānot like it could be⦠laced with drugs or anything like that. Pfft.
"What do you got goin' on tonight?" he asked her.
"Literally nothing," she said, pushing her glasses up her nose. She wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly very self-conscious to be standing this close next to him. Despite the fact that Mary had come to realize that she was asexual by nature, she still found herself tongue-tied when around someone as attractive as Gray. Shit head junkie or not, the guy was terrifyingly beautiful, with translucent eyes, sharp cheekbones, and a tall, built figure. His hair hung like a tousled, auburn mess over his head, lacking the presence of his usual cap. He was like an intimidating male model.
"Yeah, same."
Mary arched her brow. "I wouldn't call the experience of an opiate high 'nothing.'"
Gray stared at her, before deciding that a shrug would suffice as a response.
The fact that he had the balls to do this shit while living with someone as religious as Claire pissed her off too, for some reason. Much like her stupid cousin Lumina, this guy was also going about life thinking that the world was his.
"You know, if you're gonna do that in Claire's houseā"
"Jesus, Mary," he said, shoving the codeine in his pocket as he left. She watched the front door swing open as Gray disappeared into the wintery night before her.
Her mother immediately came downstairs, fuming. "Was that your father who just walked out that door?"
"Nope, town's apprentice blacksmith."
"Well, where is your father?" she huffed.
"He told you that he was going out."
Anna scowled, making her way into their kitchen to pour herself another glass of wine, her third one of the night. Mary stared out the window, at Gray's little figure that was already so far away in the distance, watching the snow fall with a frown.
"Can I go out, Mother?"
Not that she had anywhere to go, really.
Anna made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a laugh and a snort. "You are to stay inside, Mary."
"Yeahā¦" Mary slid her cheek into her hand. "That's what I thought you'd say."
It was a messed up world out there, after all.
There had been a sharp pain, a hand between her legs, and then nothing. Trent had looked so happy for a moment, until he cursed at himself and climbed away from her. He let out a series of frustrated no's and why the hell is this happening?! Swore madly at himself, hit his fist above her head in frustration, cursed and cursed as she listened to tissues being ruffled. His voice berated himself in disappointment.
He dabbed at a dark spot in his pants, at his crotch, before exiting the room in fury.
And Claire allowed her eyes to fully shut. She forced herself to try and get warm again, despite all of the cold.
Everything felt tender and sore.
Her memory was jaded, not a thing within her retained.
She was confused and achy, and it made her want to cry upon waking up.
"Good morning," Trent said, standing at the foot of his bed. He slipped on a sweater vest to go over his shirt, frowning.
Claire looked down, realizing that she was still in her clothes from yesterday. She had even packed a pair of pajamasāwas she too tired to change?
There was a kind of inflammation within her.
"Hi," she managed out, still so sleepy.
He nodded at her, walking over to his kitchenette.
She slowly rose from the bed to follow, but it was as though her body was lugging bricks. Her jeans were stiff against her skin, the buttons on it clasped.
And her fly was low.
She swallowed, trying to get herself to stand up without feeling unsteady. Each step felt like a mountain that she had to climb, everything was so sore.
But⦠no. It wasn't everything.
It was one thing.
Her skin paled; her throat felt as though it had sealed itself shut.
"What happened?" Claire asked Trent softly, seating herself across from him at his kitchen table. She wasn't sure how she found herself being okay with just sleeping next to him last night.
She wasn't sure what had even happened.
Trent simply pointed to her fourth finger.
There was a diamond ring on there, perturbed from her sleep. He carefully adjusted it. "Remember?"
She swallowed thickly again. "We're engaged."
"We are." He took a slow, steady sip from his oolong tea.
"But what else happened?" Claire's voice was barely above a whisper.
He frowned at her again. "You don't remember your exam?"
"My exam?" Her throat got tight. Every part of her felt coiled and wound up, like a squeezed elastic band ready to tear.
⦠Did she tear?
"You need better control of your liquor," he chastised.
"But it was only one glass, and I ateā"
"Is something the matter?" Trent knitted his thick brows at her.
"I-I don't knowā"
"What do you not know? I said I'd perform it when I got back, and you agreed."
"But⦠I agreed last night?"
He nodded.
"To do it last night," she clarified.
He nodded again.
"And⦠and that's all that happened?"
Trent set his drink aside angrily. "What are you implying? Or better yet, what are you accusing me of?"
"Nothing!" Claire held her hands out desperately. What was she implying? Her stomach dropped. "Trent⦠Trent I promiseā"
"Because I won't be having these disputed debates when we're married, Claire."
She felt her heart sink along, too. "I just didn't remember doing it, and it seems weird I agreed to on⦠on a holidayā"
He stared at her. "Do you hear yourself?"
She did sound stupid. God, what was wrong with her?! What was she trying to say? She trusted this manāher fiancĆ©e, and if he said that she agreed, then she agreed.
It just⦠why did it feel like a part of her got lost in everything? Was this how screwed up she wasāone gynecological exam and she felt like some kind of a broken promise to the world?
⦠Did this break her promise?
Did she initiate more when she was intoxicated because of everything she'd thought previously? Trent was the professional, did more happen because of her? Did she underestimate just how scared and unprepared she was for everything in life?!
Did she break her freaking promise?!
He looked disappointed. "Nothing else happened," he said firmly, narrowing his eyes. "But keep disputing."
Claire's cheeks burned. Why did she always have to go and ruin everything? "I wasn't disputing⦠Trent, I was just confused. I⦠I think it hurt, but I really don't remember. I'm⦠I'm just n-not sure if I was ready for that."
"You didn't bleed," Trent stated, staring at the wall. He brought his mug to his lips again, taking a long sip.
She didn't know why this provided her with a slight, fleeting relief, but it did. Maybe she was too stuck on the exam, maybe her head was swimming with the exhaustion of her thoughts and everything, but maybe this was just what she had been waiting to hear. "Oh, that's good, right?"
Good for who? Good for her health, or good for her hymen?
Trent seemed peeved, but he appeared this way even before she began bringing all this up. Like something had bothered him, like something had occurredālike she had done something horrible.
Her heart immediately fell all over again. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what had happened last night?! She felt like she was missing pieces of herself when he looked at her like this.
Why did she feel so different?
"You're always honest with me."
Oh, God. "Yes," she said softly.
"Always?"
Did she say something in her sleep? Oh, God.
"Trent, always."
"I'm going to be honest then, Claire: what's going to happen in a week?"
"... What's in a week?"
"Our wedding."
"A week," she said, dumbfounded.
"It's already been booked," he told her. He stared at his mug in front of him, then back at her.
"A week," she repeated.
"⦠Do you even want to marry me?" Trent demanded, burying his head in his hands.
She widened her eyes and rushed over to him. God, she wasn't ever going to tell anyone the true story of how her engagement came to be. How could she be such an idiot? She was busy grappling with the whole fact that she felt like she lost part of herself, but how could that be possible if it were just an exam, and then why was she so sore... and on top of all that, how could she be ready for anything life had panned out for herā
"Trent, I'm sorry,"
"You aren't even ready to make love to me." He got up from his seat, made his way into the examination room as she followed him hastily.
"I am!" she exclaimed. "I⦠I am."
Who was she kidding?
"You're going to goddamn argue every timeāClaire, when we're married, I shouldn't even have to ask!"
Her breath exited her body. Sex on command? That was what a husband expected, she supposed.
Claire felt beyond stupid. She had so much to know, to learn. How could she justā
"I love you," she told him desperately, and she kissed his cheek, her lips trembling because of the nerves, because of the nerves she told herself.
The nerves.
"I grew up⦠I was rough. Rough and wild, Claire. I was beaten senseless, do you know what that's like? This is why my family will not be attendance at the wedding with us. I mean, forgive me if I'm not a bit more gentleā"
"Trent," she said, trying to hide the shock from her voice. She didn't know any of this. "No, please don't apologize. I love you."
"Beaten. Do you know beaten, Claire? Hit, abusedāYou're the only thing that I've ever wanted, ever loved, and you don't evenā"
"I had no idea. You never told me thatā"
"Are you accusing me of making it all up?" he snapped, his words gnashing at her. "Fabricating this?"
"No!" she exclaimed, mortified tears burning in her eyes. "No. I⦠I just..." Abused? Beaten? God, maybe this was the only life that he knew. She forgot about her own broken parts, thought about Trent, her heart shattering for him. As usual, she wasn't making this any easier.
"Say you love me," he mumbled.
Something tugged at her gut, like déjà vu, but she shoved the feeling away.
"⦠I love you very much."
And Trent stared at her, lunged for her as he tackled her back on patient cot.
Claire staggered, dizzy. Her head hit the cold, smooth exam table, the cushion behind her hard and firm. Trent climbed over her, telling her how badly he needed this, how he couldn't wait another second.
He held her and moaned into her neck: say that this is what you want.
But she couldn't find the words. Her voice felt caught in her throat; she didn't know what was happening.
So, she just nodded eventually.
And told herself that this is what she wanted.
This is the way that things were meant to be.
It would be good practice.
Maybe it wouldn't⦠be so bad.
She said everything that she thought she needed to hear.
His fingers worked at the button of her jeans and she felt herself pale, swallowing hard.
It would be better to do it now⦠right?
Maybe it⦠would make things hurt less on their wedding night.
She couldn't say no because it would be proving everything that he said right.
She just silently begged her mother, begged her whole doctrine to forgive her.
Trent worked her jeans down her bum, her thighs. Claire was convinced that she wasn't breathing anymoreāall of this felt like a life that she had lived before, but she couldn't place any of it.
No more disruptionsā
The sound of the front door to the clinic chiming almost made her tear up on the spot.
"Eh? Doctor? Are you there?"
Claire managed to push Trent off of her, sitting upright on the exam table, its paper crinkling from underneath her every movement. The sound was lurid in her ears.
"Old man Barley," she whispered.
Trent cursed loudly, released her body from his grasp.
She allowed her oxygen to return, nearly crying from how grateful she was for this interruption.
That feeling should have been a red flag right then and there, but she snubbed it instantly.
Trent succeeded in composing himself, smoothing out his shirt as he managed a smile toward her. He grabbed his lab coat from the side of the desk, slipping it on.
And then he stuck out his hand to her.
Claire stared at it.
"I suppose I'm on the clock, now," he said with a laugh. His entire demeanor had changed. "Hey, why don't we go and announce our engagement to the first person this morning, together. And while I'm at work, you can go around town telling everyone."
She could only nod again.
"And thenā¦" His eyes held a lusted glint toward her own. "Tonightā"
"We could just wait a week," Claire said, cutting him off in a small voice.
Something crossed his face, and she really wished that she had just bit back those words.
But they were exactly how she was feeling.
Claire was petrified. She had already felt broken, and she didn't know what else to say.
It wasn't his fault, thoughāshe wrote off all of the blame on her stupid self.
To her surprise, Trent tousled her hair and smiled at her. He held her shoulders and kissed her forehead so lovingly. She shut her eyes and absorbed the feeling of his lips on hers, coming to the realization that being with someone like her was no easy fix.
She was always clinging to him as best as she could; there would be no slipping away now, right? The ring on her finger meant that he was here to stay.
But, commitment meant sacrifices.
Maybe she would have to come to terms with making some of her own.
"Tonight," Trent continued, miffed by her interruption. "Have your girls' night, see your friends, and then⦠who knows what will transpire! We could even show everyone up at the bar later on."
She just nodded again, trying her best to force a believable smile. She told herself to just focus on the good of last night, the part that she remembered: his proposal.
Her heart was racing, though not in the same fashion that it had been doing all winter long.
"Hello, Barley," he said, as they made their way to him, beaming. "You're the first person to officially hear about our engagement!" Trent grabbed Claire's left hand and showed off the ring.
She felt wobbly just staring at his fingers like that. Her mind was consumed not only with the fact that they were inside of her last night for the gynaecological examination, but that she didn't remember how they felt being there. She thought about how they were what made her so sore and achy today, convinced herself that maybe she was a little grateful that she couldn't recall how accidentally rough Trent was.
It was okay though, she told herself that it was okay, because at least she could find comfort in recollecting the softness beneath her that she had been laying upon.
"What derangement?" asked Barley. "Anyway, my leg's been actin' up."
But it was strangeāthe exam table was hard and firm. It wasn't soft at all.
Gray had spent the night alone with Maggieāthis was what he knew. All three Die Hard movies were playing on T.V., and it really was a Christmas Eve/ Starry Night bullshit to remember.
But the high was so nice. It was exactly what he needed, reminiscent of his days back in Chicago.
He wished he had the bottle of whiskey, though.
Yippee Kai Yay.
Claire didn't return until the next day, and by that time, Gray'd been gone.
He parked himself at the bar stool, and without Ann present to regulate shit, drank alone in a room full of people, because it was all that he knew how to do.
He didn't find himself in isolation for nearly as long as he would have liked, though.
"Lookit the size of that rock!" exclaimed Karen. Her mouth hung open, digging through Ann's closet while still catching long, repeated glances at the ring on Claire's finger. "Oh, man."
Claire took back her hand wearily, catching a sweater that had been absently discarded before it hit the floor.
Ann looked up from the edge of her bed, where she had been previously staring up at the ceiling. "Who knows?"
Karen stopped her rummaging to stare at the diamond for a really long time again, her eyes not leaving its sight. She waved Ann over. "Ann, seriously, c'mere and lookit the size of it!"
Ann shifted her gaze for a split second, then went back to the ceiling, like it was the most enticing thing ever. "I saw."
"C'mere though!"
"⦠Yeah. It's neat."
"Neat? Holy shit, it's massive."
Claire stared at Ann, trying to fold the sweater neatly in her arms. A stitch of fabric got caught on the ringāthat had been happening a lot. She wasn't used to it quite yet. "Just you guys know. And Old Man Barley. And Carter, I guess."
Ann arched her brow. "You haven't told the gossip squad yet?"
She shook her head.
"What about Gray?"
Claire stared down at the floor, handing the folded-up sweater back to Karen. She just distractedly tossed it away again.
Ann scowled. "You live with the guy and you still can't bring yourself to tell him?"
Claire narrowed her eyes. "K, it's really not thatāwe honestly just haven't seen each other. And you better not tell him⦠it's gotta come from me."
Ann shrugged, lifting up an old, beat up t-shirt that Karen threw away at her. "Believe me, I got no business in telling him."
"Why are you both bickering?" Karen asked, stopping what she was doing to place her hand on her hip with a frown. "Claire, keep it up and you're gonna lose that marital glow."
It was like she didn't hear her, though. "Why aren't you happy for me?" Claire asked Ann.
She sighed. "You're awfully young, it's a lot to think about."
"Well, it's not like it's something that you have to think about, though."
"Okay, okay," said Karen. "I'm Switzerland here⦠knock it off. Let's keep it neutral, folks."
Ann frowned, blocking her out. "I just dunno how Gray's gonna take it, considering that him and your fiancƩe aren't exactly simpatico."
Claire shrugged, even if this factor did gnaw at her. She didn't know how the hell she'd be able to face him, how she'd be able to even get the words out of her mouth to tell him. "He's going to learn to get over it, or he loses me in his life."
She couldn't believe that she had spoken those words into existence; it made everything all-too real.
It made her miserable to even think about.
"One glass of white wine," said Trent, nodding over at Doug.
Doug smiled, his mustache crinkling, returning with a filled, clear glass.
Gray was too busy losing count of how many drinks he had had.
Trent slipped something to Doug, a little manilla envelope, instructing him to open it tomorrow.
Doug frowned, but took it anyway, placing it in his breast pocket. He went to go bring a drink to a waiting table behind them.
Trent took a slow sip of his wine, smiling smugly at Gray. "How's it going?"
Gray ignored him; he was drunk as hell. What the hell did this guy want? Couldn't he just be left alone at the goddamn bar in peace?
"You know, I'll bet people ask you that question a lot, but they don't really want to hear your answer." Trent smiled at him coolly. "They don't really want to hear about how much you still harp over the death of one woman, how you can't bring yourself to let that shit go."
Gray stared straight ahead, his fist tightening instinctively. He was about three seconds overdue from knocking this shit's lights out. It was bound to happen; he was ready.
And⦠it looked like Trent was prepared for it.
"That's why you got yourself harping over one girl, still," Trent said, downing back his wine. "You have to accept the fact that she's done with you. You're going to be out of her life."
Gray didn't dare look at him. The second he did, his drunken fist was going to collide with his pretty-boy face.
Trent's voice came out again, his Southern drawl tainted with liquour. The guy didn't know when to friggin' stop.
"And you wanna know something else about her? I think you were wrong. I think she lied."
Ann simply stared at Claire. "Whatever. Tell him, don't tell him, doesn't make a difference to me."
Claire scowled at her. Figures, she's taking Gray's side.
"Ohh, my God," said Karen with a huff. "First of all, I will not be ignored. Second of all, like, Ann, you're just mad that you haven't been dicked down in centuries, and Claire, you're just mad that getting dicked down wasn't all that you thought it was cracked up to be last night."
They both glared at her in anger, scoffing. "So not it!" they snapped simultaneously, before turning to each other with a short laugh.
"Ha, jinx, so funny, you both said something at the same time, how hilar." Karen rolled her eyes with a wave of her hand, before winking at the both of them. "One day, I will get you guys drunk as hell, and I will learn all of your secrets."
"I wish you kept secrets," Ann said with another snicker. "I hate the fact that I know how many sex toys you own."
"It's more than one?" Claire had to giggle. "Yikes, Kare."
She huffed. "Different variations for different moods. Duh."
"Duh," repeated Ann, shaking her head with a smile. "I do like that vibrator you gave me, though, if I'm bein' honest. Even if it was the weirdest present I've ever received."
"See? You can't hate." Karen winked again, before turning to Claire, giving her a tap on the bum. "Let's do something fun together! Now that you're no longer gonna be a free woman."
Was she right, in a way?
"You're dumb as shit, Kare," said Ann, with a roll of her eyes.
"I'm the married one here. I know how this shit operates. Now put this on!" She threw Ann's old soccer uniform at her. "We can accessorize it."
Ann rolled her eyes, complying so that she didn't have to hear it from her. She took off her shirt, slipping it over her torso. "I could cut it up, actually," she said, surveying the old, green fabric.
"Try this on, Claire!" Karen exclaimed, tossing a tank top at her head.
"That's gonna be way too tight on me," Claire said with a grimace, holding out the baby yellow top. Oh yeah, not happening. "It'll look soā¦"
"Slutty," Karen finished.
"I don't really like that word."
"Neither does Ann," she said. "'Cause it's like her second name."
Ann chucked a ball from her floor at Karen's head, snorting. "You're actually such a bitch."
"Takes one to know one!" She stuck her tongue out at her. "You better put it on, Claire, or else you totally suck."
Claire shook her head and laughed, tossing an old pair of Ann's windbreaker pants at her. "Only if you put these on!"
"Wow," Ann remarked. "This'll be the first time that anyone's actually seeing you in clothes, Kare."
She flipped her off, laughing. "Screw you."
Claire just smiled, removing her sweater to put the top on. It was practically see-through, and her dark blue bra was totally visible underneath it, but she was having too much fun getting her mind off of things to care. Her breasts were suffocated and pushed up as a result of the tight fabric, which Karen claimed was a very sexy, new look on her. She had to laugh at this.
They forced Karen to throw on a windbreaker outfit, grabbing a Tommy Hilfiger hoodie to go over top of it. Ann was in stitches, telling her that she looked like an extra on All That, and Claire felt so grateful in that moment to have friends like these.
Karen just pulled out a dark Maybelline eyeshadow quad from her discarded shorts, coaxing the sparkly shadow onto both Ann and Claire's lids, signifying that her vision was almost completed.
"Wait'll Trent sees you," Karen told Claire. She managed to convince her to put on a very tight denim skirt as well, in order to finish the outfit. "Like, damnnn, girl. You look smokin'."
Claire laughed. She did not look "smokin'." In fact, she looked ridiculously provocative. "This skirt is like a freaking belt."
Karen shrugged, applying lip gloss in the mirror. "That's Ann for you."
"That's your skirt, Karen," Ann laughed, trying to noogie her.
"Haha! Ah, shit."
Claire stared at herself in the mirror. The mini skirt was riding up her thighs if she so much as breathed, and the dipped low tank top was forcing her chest up. She wondered what Trent would think of her if she came to him wearing even less, like a more understated, lingerie outfit.
"Okay, it's freezing," she stated, trying to warm up the goosebumps on her arms.
"That just comes with the territory of dressing sexy," said Karen with an eye roll. "I'm dying in this windbreaker bullshit."
She laughed. They all looked insane. With Ann wearing her old jersey and snow pants, Claire in her⦠very revealing, club-esque outfit, and Karen in whatever the hell concoction she had on, they looked like some kind of next-gen hip-hop artists, ready to take over MTV.
"We need a name!" Claire told them.
"Powerpuff Gals," said Karen, like this was some sort of a revolutionary change from the show's original title. "I'm Buttercup 'cause my hair's naturally her colour anyway."
Ann snickered. "Also, you're a bitch."
And Claire couldn't help but smile along with them. Maybe everything was going to be okay after all. Plus, she'd have to start getting comfortable with accepting her body eventually... right?
The sound of a commotion reverberated from downstairs. It was loud and booming, like a crowd of people going wild.
Karen raised her brows. "Oooh. Bar fight?"
Ann rolled her eyes. "Go check. I'm changing before anyone sees me like this."
"Same," said Claire, searching for her sweater through the disastrous piles of clothes that they had all created. Karen discreetly tip-toed to the door, as though anyone downstairs could hear her over the uproar.
And she gasped.
"What?" Ann exclaimed, immediately rushing over to peek through the doorway. Claire tilted her head, frowning while trying to find her top.
"Oh, shit," she heard her say.
And something within her just sunk. She had a feeling.
A bad feeling.
Wearily, she walked over to where they stood. Karen tried slamming the door shut, but it was too late. Claire inhaled sharply when she peered over it.
No.
She wildly ducked underneath Karen's arm, panicking, leaving Ann's room to run down the stairs of the inn. She took the steps two at a time without even thinking. It was cold.
It was so freaking cold.
"I think you were wrong," he says, after Gray has said nothing. He puts his wine down with a loud clink, its sound vibrating against the tiled counter. He takes a step closer as Gray just continues drinking from his glass, the cognac eliciting a burning pain from the back of his throat. But he needs this drink, he missed drinking and he friggin' requires it. Doug stands behind the bar, polishing an empty glass with worried eyes. The inn is bustling tonight; people are talking and laughing about. They all seem so far away though, their chatter a remote noise in the background's distance.
"I think she lied."
The glass stops before it touches Gray's lips. He waits, but the rage inside of him has already built itself up.
It's about to boil over.
"She wasn't that tight last night."
And he extends out a skimpy piece of purple fabric, holding it right under Gray's nose.
Trent's words make it feel as though all of the air has been forcibly removed from the room.
His mind is swimming with thoughts, with doubts, with everything, but he isn't even thinking coherently right now. Gray grabs the fabric from him, and it's underwear. It's freaking underwear⦠it's her underwear? He clutches it in his hand, shaky fist balled up tightly.
And he effectively delivers a sucker punch right to the edge of Trent's jaw.
A girl screams from far away, but it's all the edge of a distant blur for him now. He keeps going.
He can't stop.
"YOU SICK FUCK," Gray shouts.
He can hear someone hollering, but then his ears are ringing and there isn't much more after that. He drags his fist back, then slams it into Trent's nose, a glorious cracking sound eliciting. Freaking glorious.
Trent wobbles, his fingers instinctively reaching to his gushing red nose in horror. Whether he expected two punches in a row like that, Gray's not sure, but regardless, the pain written across his face is immense. The townsfolk gather out of their seats, watching in shock at what is transpiring before them.
Tonight's dinner is being interrupted by an impromptu MMA fight right before your very eyes, folks.
Trent simply stares down at the blood on his fingers like he's in a trance, before screaming, lunging at Gray as he tries to punch him back sloppily. Gray maneuvers his head away from Trent's blows, until the doctor grabs the bottom of his wine glass from the counter behind him, shattering it across the back of Gray's skull.
He's a dirty fighter, that shit head. Gray shakes the glass out of his hair, the room fully spinning at this point. He wobbles, trying his best to stay steady, before falling to the ground. Trent looms over him, clutching the broken piece of the bottom of the wine glass, but Gray manages to get himself up like he's always done, rising slowly, fighting with everything left in him.
It really doesn't take much. Despite being roaring, piss-drunk, and despite the fact that Gray can feel the blood trickling from the back of his head, this is long overdue. And he's not going down without a fight, without making Trent suffer the way that he's been suffering. He doesn't care if it's messed up to say; he's glad that all of this is happening.
Gray shoves him back to the floor and begins wailing on him. He claws, punches, goes to town on Trent's stupid pretty boy face. Surprisingly, he actually tries putting up a fight, but slowly begins to give up, weakly taking every single punch that Gray throws at him with wrecked groans. The blood from his mouth splatters everywhere, and his skin swells, bruises reddening instantly at the surface.
Gray hears Doug run out in a panic to get Harris, listens to a series of strangled noises that can only be from his own grandfather amongst everyone else in the crowd. Someone is begging him to stopāManna? Another cries out that Gray is going to kill Trent if he keeps goingāJeff? He can smell Cliff's cologne, or is it Rick's? Whoever it is pulls on his shirt to get him off of Trent, but it's no use, because Gray just shoves them away with his shoulder, continuing on as he rolls with the punches.
Ha.
He just keeps going.
And going.
And freaking going.
Someone gasps, and another person cries out again. The sounds could be from far away, or from an inch behind him, Gray isn't sure.
He doesn't even stop himself when she runs out in front of him.
Tells himself that he's just not seeing straight.
Even accidentally almost catches her in the crossfire.
No.
The second that he hears her broken voice, his fists come to a screeching halt.
"GRAY, STOP IT!" Claire screams, holding her arms out in front of Trent. She desperately tries elbowing him off, and from the shock of it all, Gray releases him immediately. The back of his head falls to the floor, a groan exiting out of his bloodied mouth. Upon drunkenly surveying the damage, he's got a fat lip split in five different places, a broken nose no doubt, dislocated jaw maybeā?
"WHAT⦠WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" she screeches, her words shrill and high-pitched.
No; it isn't what it looks like.
⦠It's exactly what it looks like.
"Blondie," Gray mumbles, sitting back on his knees. The adrenaline is slowly wearing itself out, the room goes all fuzzy, blurry, hazy; he feels like he needs to empty his stomach outside. He tries to maintain an upright, straight composure, but he's tilting beyond belief right now.
She's here though. She'll realize, she'll know.
She didn't sleep with him⦠did she?
"DON'T," Claire snaps at him, when Gray tries reaching for her. She weakly lifts Trent's head into her lap, but he just softly groans. His whole face is swollen, black, blue and a bloody goddamn mess. The entirety of his nose looks crooked, and Gray wonders if you can break that bone clean, or shatter it into a million different pieces.
Her eyes shoot out daggers at him. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO HIM?!" she demands, tone wavering and breaking.
Gray has nothing to say though, no response that would suffice the question. What's he supposed to answer with: that he kicked the shit out of her boyfriend in front of the whole town?
When he stays silent, Claire just starts to whimper, crying as she holds her bloodied, mangled boyfriend in her arms. He's breathing, but only shallowly.
Gray touches her bare arm, but she jerks it back, eyes blazing.
"GET OUT."
He frowns. "Listen-"
"NO." And Claire stares down at his split fists in horror, a jagged breath exhaling from her body. She grabs the purple fabric that he didn't even realize was still balled up in his fists, her cheeks burning and her eyes flaming. "WHY do you HAVE THIS?!"
Shit.
This looks bad. This looks so bad.
"That wasn't me," says Gray, in a grating voice that he didn't even know he possessed. He points an unstable finger to a hardly-conscious Trent. "That was him."
"YOU LIAR!" Claire pushes at his chest, screaming and crying. "Why the hell do you have my underwear?!"
He stares at her, and amidst his drunken headache, realizes in that moment that she'll never listen. She'll never understand, she's blinded by love.
Those two made their bed, and now they can goddamn lie in it.
"You let him fuck you?" Gray snaps instead.
If it's possible, Claire's cheeks flame even more. She tries to keep her angry demeanor up, but it's wavering, and she looks afraid now. So goddamn afraid. "W-what?"
He glares at her, his head throbbing while he makes out the whole picture in front of him. As far as he's concerned right now, in his inebriated mind, this isn't Claire anymore. She's changed; this is someone else entirely different.
The chick in front of him's got on pounds and pounds of heavy, caked eye makeup, wearing a top which shows off her tits in full display, and a skirt that leaves zero to the imagination. It's so, ridiculously short, that when she's kneeling on the ground like this, he can see the white, cotton panties she's wearing between her legs.
She looks like all of the girls who were willing to "put-out" for him.
And Gray regrets the words as soon as they escape his lips. Even in this drunken state, he knows that they aren't true; but he says them anyway because he really is human garbage. "I should've known you were easy."
She stares at him, stunned, as though he's just slapped her. Her mouth drops into a little o, and it's like the both of them are suddenly fully aware that it's not just them two alone right now. The whole town is around them, crowding, gawking as this entire freakshow unfolds. Claire's breathing goes all heavy as she looks around the room, seeing the judgmental faces upon faces staring back at her. Her cheeks are fully red now, and her eyes instantly well up with tears.
Ann's expression sticks out in the crowd, evident and horrified. She's looking at him the way that she did when he told Claire off, the morning after they'd been caught by her together.
Claire's eyes go all red-rimmed, her lower lip quivering as hatred and pain sear throughout her vision. He's embarrassed her, he's held something against her that only she revealed to him from her yearbook, and now he's labelled her as a whore in front of the entire town, even though she's the farthest thing from that. The tears start rolling down her cheeks in heavy track marks as she balls the silky, purple fabric into her hands, pushing at his chest. "F-fuck you, Gray!"
And through his foggy, drunken mind, this is how he sobers up to know that he royally screwed it all up. Hearing her swear at him like this, curse him and cuss him the hell out⦠shit, he deserves way worse, but this is just how he knows that they've both passed the point of no return.
If Claire wants to have sex with her boyfriend, then why is it any of Gray's business? Why has he stuck his nose where it doesn't belong, why should he care, why is he even mad?
Because Trent came here to brag about it, to gloat and shove her thong in his face, to have Gray react like an animal in front of everyone; his way of making sure that he really is out of her life for good.
Claire is screaming at Gray incoherently, pushing his chest away from her. His posture staggers, but she just keeps hitting at his chest again and again.
"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" she shrieks, clawing at him. He stares at her, just stares. And no one tries to pull her away either. The townsfolk watch in dismayed shock.
"YOU'RE OUT OF CONTROL." Claire's voice is devastatingly harsh. She breaks with every syllable, and he can't believe how bad he's let himself hurt her.
Gray knits his brow, but even that causes pain. He's suddenly very aware to the gash that the wine glass shattering against his head must have caused.
"Blondie, you have no idea... What he didā"
"Don't touch me!" she sobs, when he seizes her hands from hitting him again. It's not like it hurts, but she's hysterical and he's trying to get her to stop. She jerks her arms back as Trent groans softly in her lap. Looking down at him worriedly, she snaps her attention back to Gray, eyes raging. As Doug quickly returns, he steps in to hoist her boyfriend up in his arms like a limp rag doll, readying him for the clinic. Claire points at Trent, tears streaming down her face as the black from her makeup mixes with them. "Stay away from him, Gray. Stay away from me, stay the HELL away from us."
"Claireā"
"I hate you," Claire chokes out, hunching her back over. She buries her face in her hands, heaving racking sobs. "I fucking hate you."
Karen runs to her, toward the middle of the floor with Ann in tow. He rises slowly, feeling someone touching his shoulder amidst all of the commotion from the town. For a second, he thinks that it's Officer Harris, but it's just his grandfather, pulling him away from it all through the crowd.
And Gray just complacently follows, walks with him back to Mineral Blacksmith, where he can pretend that all of this is some kind of a sick dream.
A/N: Okay, now that everything's out of the way, Happy New Year ya'll š I hope 2021 is all of your best years yet :)
These two chapters were extremely difficult for me to write, and also, they were actually one of the very first parts to my story that I had outlined. The sexual assault is honestly disturbing to read, but as I wrote it, it felt like I myself was making sense of it in a way, if that makes any sense. The shock and pain that Claire has experienced from it all, the way that she blames herself, how she feels like she lost a part of her and just slowly forces herself to accept it is really all too real for some victims. If this is triggering for you to read, then I completely, totally understand.
Lots to unpack here. First of all, hopefully I conveyed it okay enough that Trent is lying about any kind of abuse that he experienced from his family, and just made this up to gaslight Claire as per usual. I didn't get into his perspective for this part, and if I did I would have made that clearer, but I hope that it translated! True POS, stg.
Remember Karen told everyone in "The Funeral" chapter that she had bought a kind of underwear for Claire? And what tf did Trent slip Doug? And what's the mystery behind Mary's family and Ann's late mother's feud? STAY TUNED I'm hoping I can get another chapter out soon to try and give ya'll answers to these questions. I'm hoping that some things are being pieced together slowly, but if you ever need any clarification on anything, please ask! I'll see if I can break down stuff without giving too much away, in case I was just not clear enough in the first place :-)
Also, excuse Ann and Karen's banter. I don't use the term "sluts" and "whores" in real life, like c'mon people it's 2021, but in the 2000's, I feel like it was so commonly used. They're just teasing one another like this though haha.
A WOMAN CAN DRESS HOW SHE WANTS AND IT DOESN'T MEAN JACK SHIT TO HER CHARACTER, SO ALSO PLZ DON'T THINK THAT I AGREE WITH GRAY AT ALL EITHER! Had to get that out of the way, alrighty then we can proceed.
I'm really glad that we got to see Mary again! Haven't written her in awhile. Not so glad at Gray's toxic masculinity, not so happy that Claire couldn't just enjoy a night out with her friends. And Trent... oh Trent. This ass-whooping was a LONG time fkn coming, just keep reading if you're down my dudes
Would love to hear all of your thoughts, and again, if this was difficult to read, then I completely understand. I just wanted to say that I really, really love you guys, and I appreciate you sticking around! Every time I get a comment on this fic, my heart feels so happy like I can't even begin to explain how much it means to me š ā¤ļø Thank you for following this story, and for all of the wonderful feedback and reviews and conversations that we've had together in 2020. I can't wait to keep going :-) While last year was rough, I am cheersing to a better 2021 š
Sidenote: I do this thing every year where I see how long it takes me in the new year to cry, like how many days of January I can go until I have my first cry I guess? LOL, and I watched Pixar's Soul last night... so I guess I made it until the night of January 1st. I literally could not stop sobbing at that film, it was so beautiful and I highly recommend it :')
K I'm done peace ā¤ļø
