Hello there to all the people who are still reading! This took a really long time, and I apologize. I didn't want to take this long, but unfortunately, life happens. Anyways, I'm so excited and after reading the chapter, I think you will know why. Hint, introductions are made.
Happy readings, but especially have happy holidays and a great new year, everybody. Hopefully, 2017 is a better year :)
Chapter Six: One of Us
"All it takes is a second and your whole life can get turned upside down."
—Jodi Picoult
"Is that her? The mistress that you told me about?"
"Yeah, it's her, but I think the wife is prettier. I mean look at that girl. Her hair is so ugly."
"I know, and look at her clothes. It looks like she got them from an orphanage."
Not so subtly, Darla pointed to another one of the customers who sat alone near the doors. Clara suppressed a sigh from her spot and looked over her shoulder to check the clock. Only three hours left.
The great thing about the diner that Clara worked at was that it always closed early. Or at least for her it worked out. Most of the diner business happened in the morning and mid-afternoon. By the end of the night, the diner would be incredibly slow. At times only having three or four customers, forcing most of the staff to sit behind the counter and wait for them to leave so they could do the same.
Clara would be among them, sitting down on a footstool listening to her coworker's gossip about different people that would come into the diner. Apparently, almost everybody there had relationship problems (except the man with the suit, nobody ever mentioned him). At the beginning, they had tried to include her, but as Sister Karen had told her once that gossiping was not right and it spoke poorly of one's persona, she had politely declined.
That led to her be discluded from everything which didn't really bother her. Clara could still hear them gossip from where she sat and tried her hardest to pretend that what they would say about her didn't sting her (although, one time she accidently set the fire alarm, getting all of them wet).
When the diner would close at eleven, the employees would usually stay for about half an hour to clean off the disgusting stuff that customers would leave on the tables and floor, take out the trash and share the tips they made. It was obvious that nobody in the staff liked the last part. Because it was a one man job, everybody would pull straws on who would be the one to clean it up.
So for the third time in a row, Clara was left to close the diner. She should be flattered at the trust that the manager had for her, but she was more annoyed than anything. She would clean the tables, booths and place the chairs back into its place. The nuns knew that she would come home late but she should never be home before midnight or else she would be forced to quit the job.
In the dead silence, Clara heard the door jiggling. She sighed, knowing it was probably someone wanting to get inside. It wasn't the first time that would happen. People always ignore the darkness and the signed that said 'Closed' and wouldn't stop until one of the employees would order them to leave.
"Diner is close," Clara yelled over her shoulder, not bothering stopping from wiping a booth. "Meaning, go away. Or else I'll burn you," she said the last part under her breath and cracked her first smile since she was left alone.
The jiggling continued, making her roll her eyes in exasperation while she moved to the next table. The person on the other side of the door would get the hint after a while. She did hope it was soon, the sound was giving her a headache.
Clara was still having a hard time adjusting to noises, especially the ones that were unexpected. At times they sounded so loud, they made her drop to the floor in pain. Thankfully, years of praying helped her concentrate and ignore the noise around her.
Clara was relieved when the noise died, but she could still hear the person on the other side, not moving. She thought about going to the door and show them the sign. She never got the chance, because that was when she heard a strange whooshing noise and Clara slowed down in her scrubbing.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The beat of a steady heartbeat. Someone was inside the diner, she realized and tried not to tense up. She heard the person move to the door and unlock it. One more person stepped inside, making two steady heartbeats. Suddenly everything grew loud in the diner. The buzzing noise of the refrigerators, the dripping faucet, the little mouse's living under the table, and Clara's breathing.
"Get out," she said calmly, not looking back. There was a low murmur she couldn't make up. That made her tense up. She gripped the cloth tightly and tried to keep herself from not losing control. They couldn't hurt her, she tried to convince herself. She had an advantage that they didn't.
"I want to talk to you, Clara," a smooth, male voice said.
"Get out!" she repeated, more forcefully. She could hear other people around, they were loud, but from the way the man was relaxed, something told her the people around were with him. This wasn't an unplanned ambush.
"Don't be scared, Clara."
"I'm not scared," she said automatically.
"Then why won't you look at me?"
Foolishly, she turned around and was surprised to see the man who always sat in the same booth and order the same thing. Like always, he was dressed in nice clothes. His hair was neat and trimmed. Everything about him was impeccable, the opposite of Clara. She always tried her hardest to keep her clothes nice, but it was impossible after being a hand-me-down.
"I know you," she blurted out. She stared at him, her mouth opening in confusion. What was he doing inside the diner? How did he get inside? Why was he looking at her like he knew her?
"I should hope so, I've been showing up to this dreadful diner for the past two months."
"Huh?" Clara tilted her head, confused about what he had said. She had only noticed him for the last month, and know he was admitting to been coming for a longer time. He took a step closer to her and that's when she reacted. There was a stranger, it doesn't matter if he had been a customer, who broke into the diner at night, and may want to harm her.
"The diner is closed. Please leave and I won't call the police," Clara said as calmly as she could.
The man didn't look bothered by her threat and simply smiled. "Let me introduce myself. My name is Sebastian Shaw. You can Sebastian or Shaw, whatever you want."
"You should go," she said firmly, but squeezed her cloth tightly, afraid of what could happen.
"I want to speak to you, Clara," the man, or Sebastian Shaw as he presented himself, said in a cool voice. "I promise you, we'll make it worth your time."
Clara had been overwhelmed with Shaw's presence, that she had failed to hear the other person heartbeat, who was inside the diner, hidden behind the shadows.
"We...?" she mouthed, and took a shaky breath, suddenly hearing them clearly. She took a step back when she saw the smile grow in Shaw's face.
Clara squinted her eyes, only seeing one person. She could still hear another heartbeat. There were two other people in the diner. Shaw smiled and glanced back to the other person who was hidden in the shadows. The earlier noise she heard in the beginning sounded and she turned her head to the left and that was when she screamed loudly. It was one of the most terrifying things she had seen.
It was the devil.
She shrieked when she saw that it was a person of sorts. She dropped to the floor and crawled away from it, but was afraid to lose contact with that thing in front of her.
"Azazel, don't scare her."
"Get away from me," she gasped and scrambled to get away. She felt someone pull her up and cringed when it was that thing, Azazel.
"Azazel..." Shaw warned.
"No, let me go," she shrieked and tried her best to not touch him. Azazel let her go quickly, not because of her screaming but from the look he got from Shaw.
"I'm sorry, Clara. He's not used to being around girls," Shaw lamented. She flinched at the dark look he gave Azazel.
"Right," the man drawled.
"Are you the devil?" she asked, the question directed to the man behind her, not in front of her. Stories that Sister Rosemary told her and Caitlin replayed in her head. She had made sure to tell them when Sister Karen was out of earshot. Karen made it clear that the children should not be told the sins of the fallen angel, and focus on the other ones.
"Some say I am." The man appeared in front of her and the wicked grin that he gave her unnerved Clara. She breathed heavily, her heart beating loudly. She looked around, realizing that she was not getting out of this one.
"What... is he?" she asked, looking at the red man uncertainly. She rubbed her thumb with her palm. She could lose control and could hurt him if she wanted to. But he remained in his spot, not speaking, just staring at her.
Shaw smiled, amused at her fear. "Azazel. Don't worry about him. He can't hurt you, can he?"
"I don't know," she said, breaking her gaze from Azazel and gave Shaw a wry look.
"You must be cold," Shaw observed suddenly, his eyes trailing her bare arms.
"Not really," she said, feeling the opposite.
He nodded and took a seat on one of the booths. He motioned her to come closer, but Clara stayed in her spot. She stiffened when she saw Azazel move towards her. Clara clenched her fist, trying her best to keep it together.
"I would like to speak to you about certain things," Shaw said.
"Couldn't you have done that earlier?" Clara looked at him coldly.
"I don't think you would have appreciated talking about your mutation in public. I mean, after all, the hard work you have done to hide it and then for it to be exposed. That would have been a shame."
Clara frowned, not grasping what he meant. "What are you talking about?"
"Take a seat," Shaw simply said, motioning the empty spot in front of her.
"Can you please leave?" she pleaded, silently praying that someone would show up and do something or make them two go away. "Both of you leave. I don't know what you are talking about, please leave. I won't tell that you broke in."
"Even if you did tell, no one would believe you. After all, those kind of talks could wind you up in am asylum."
Clara swallowed nervously, feeling helpless.
"You should really listen to me," Shaw said, his tone darker. "Like I said, it would be a shame."
"Stay still," that voice said before she had left her orphanage. She still cried everything she thought about. Not again, she thought, panicking.
Her eyes darted at the door that was wide open, letting the harsh air inside. Without hesitating, she ran towards it. She never made it past the door before Azazel appeared right in front of her and grabbed her arm harshly, his nails digging into her. She tried to push him off but he was stronger than her. Clara froze mid-slap when she saw that Azazel had a tail that was going up and wrapping around her throat.
"No, don't—" she started and when she finished, she wasn't by the door, but in front of Shaw. She gurgled, trying to beg him to stop, her fingers clawing at his tail. All her pent up anger came out and she grabbed his tail tightly and felt a satisfaction when he hissed in pain. He let go of her, his tail still burning from her touch. She stepped away from Azazel, refusing to touch him and covered her eyes, a loud ringing echoed inside of her, making her want to throw up.
"Silly mutant," Azazel laughed. Clara glanced at Shaw, who although had done nothing, did look displeased. It took her a second to realize that he was angry at Azazel and not at her. When his eyes met hers, he smiled at her, as if he was praising her. She scowled and straightened up.
"Will you listen to me?" Shaw asked again.
Clara's hand went to her neck, still feeling the sensation of someone crushing her windpipe. "Do I have a choice?" she asked.
"You did have one, actually. You could have left and we won't bother you. But..." He paused momentarily, not saying what everyone knew. From her early escape attempt, that was no longer an option. "I do hope you don't go. That would be unfortunate."
His expression remained light, his smile wide and eyes bright, but his tone made it clear that she should stay. She reluctantly sat down in on the closest booth, and not the same one as his, and placed her hands under the table, clenching them tightly. The red man appeared right next to her, sitting in the empty spot of the booth. She jumped, hitting her knees and falling back to the floor.
Azazel laughed, enjoying her skittish behavior. Shaw sighed, annoyed at both of them. Clara scrambled to stand up and smoothed her clothes. She threw Azazel a dirty look and sat back down. She was not going to give him the satisfaction of moving, but she did stay at the edge of the seat.
"Are you going to kill me?" she asked Shaw bluntly.
"Dear, God. Of course not, Clara," he said, chuckling. "Why would I do that? Mutants don't hurt each other. We are one. And even if I wanted to, I don't think I could. I know what you can do."
"I don't think you do." She lifted her chin. "How can I know that you're not just saying that so you can kill me?"
"Are you not trusting because your only confidant died?"
Clara felt like she had been stabbed in the stomach. "What did you say?" she gritted. "Are you talking about Ms. Miller? Did you kill her?"
"I know that a lot has happened to make you like this. Paranoid. Distant. Distrustful. But you don't have to be like that anymore."
"You don't know anything," she said.
"I know a lot more than you do, Clara. Which is why it would be wise if you listened to me. I have a proposition that you will not reject."
"Can't or won't?" she said flatly.
He smiled. "I like you. You're young and full of curiosity..."
"You are disgusting if you are interested in me. It's a horrible sin that you will pay for," she said coldly, feeling repulsed all over her body. She felt crawling out of her skin, realizing what was going to happen.
That made Shaw laugh. "My dear, I'm not interested in you that way. But I do agree with you at one point. I do have an interest in you."
"I don't care what it is, I have no interest in you."
Shaw hummed, disagreeing. "Don't say no yet. I know that once you hear what I have to say that you'll change your mind."
"Will it take long?" she asked, her eyes darting to the clock. "I have to be back to the orphanage. Not that you care, but I am not allowed to stay late talking to strangers that threaten me and might possibly murder me."
Clara jumped when Azazel laughed, even it was for one second. It was loud and unexpected. She glared at him, as much as she could without looking at him, but she knew he got the point.
"Should've brought Emma," she heard Shaw sigh under his breath. "I'm sorry," he told Clara, giving her what was supposed to be a sincere smile. "Azazel seems to be forgetting that mutants don't harm each other."
"What did you just called me?" she demanded, already heard that word from him.
"That's what you are. What I am. What Azazel is. We are the children of the atom. Radiation gave birth to mutants. We are mutants," he told her solemnly. "And mutants should stick together. The world here is a dangerous place for a lone mutant, especially if they are so young and naive like you. I want to protect you."
"What the hell is a mutant?" She already hated the word. It sounded horrible.
"You don't have a clue?" Shaw asked, looking slightly surprised. Clara simply stared at him. Shaw then went to explain to an inpatient Clara about what a mutant was and what they were capable of. She listened to him go on how certain people, like him and her, were born with abilities and how at a certain age they would show up. He explained different aspects of them, the perks and dangers of being a mutant.
Clara, despite her resistance to him being there, was fascinated with everything he was saying. It was nothing compared to what she had found in the books in the library. She had no idea where he got all the information, but the confidence in his voice and how steady his heartbeat was, Clara believed everything he said. It wasn't until he got to the part of the dangers of a mutant being alone, did she interrupt him.
"Why are you telling me this?"
"Because isn't this what you wanted? To know about yourself?"
Clara could only stare at him. The way he spoke was as if he knew her and maybe he did.
"What makes you think I am like you?" she said.
"Because despite what you think, you're not different," he said. "You're like everybody else. You take part of a system where you will always be the same. The only small difference that you are a mutant. And you're parents didn't choose to abandon you, they died. Didn't they?"
She stiffened, a little nervous that he somehow knew about her history. She hadn't spoken to her parents in years almost ten years. He looked at Azazel and nodded to him. She flinched when he disappeared, leaving a red smoke, and after blinking a few times, Azazel returned making her do the same thing. She failed to notice him slide a file to Shaw.
"Your name is Clarissa Amelia Wechsler?" he asked.
"No," she told him, rubbing her eyes, annoyed how the smoke disoriented her momentarily. "My name is Clara Welsh. Not Wechler or whatever you said."
He tilted his head to the side. "Really? That's not what your birth certificate says. And I am positive that Wechsler is a Jewish surname."
Clara looked at the file and without asking permission, even though she shouldn't have, seeing that it was her own, she snatched it from Shaw's hands. She squinted, trying to read the small words in the darkness. Her stomach twisted into knots when she saw that he was correct. She had no idea that was her full name. She never assumed that Clara was short for anything. Now she saw that it was short for Clarissa and her last name was different from the one she was told that was hers.
Clarissa Amelia Wechsler, she thought bitterly. That was her name, but her last name was not Jewish. She was not one of them. She wasn't who Shaw thought she was.
"Aren't they still killing them?" Azazel spoke up, his eyes trained on Clara. She ignored him but took a shaky breath, her blood boiling which was not a good sign. "Is it getting hot here?" he asked to no one in particularly and Shaw ignored his comment.
"You know, it's so ironic," Shaw hummed.
Unable to help herself, Clara asked tiredly, "What's ironic?"
"You're Catholic when you weren't born one," Shaw said, his eyes trained on her small cross. It had been a gift from the nuns when she arrived the orphanage. She had no idea what it had been until they explained it to her and ever since that day, she never took it off, a reminder of the first gift she ever received.
She blinked, and touched it, feeling defensive at the whole situation. "What?"
He laughed, amused at how naive she was. "A Jewish who prays to a God and other Gods."
She felt stupid and saying the same word over and over again. "What?"
He laughed again and wasn't the only one. The other one made a sound that sounded like laughter. She flinched and edged slightly more from him.
"If you are suggesting that I am Jewish," she said slowly and flinched when she said Jewish, hating that he was associating with those people. Those people who were hunted down and killed like their lives meant nothing. "Then I should say that you are wrong."
"Then I must be wrong that you're a mutant?"
"I-I am Catholic," she said defensively. "And me a mutant?" The word was strange but the more it kept going around her head, the more it fitted. She was a mutant. He was a mutant. Those people were mutants. Or so that's what Shaw was claiming. "You can do what I can do?" she asked, imagining him bursting into flames and his body turning solid obsidian.
"No. We're all special in our own way."
Hearing that made Clara feel warm, but she pushed that warmth away, refusing to trust him. He could be lying about everything. But hearing Azazel shift next to her, his tail scraping the floor, Clara knew that he wasn't lying.
"Your mutation has helped you a lot. I know you've noticed. You were a sickly child, always something. And now you are stronger than ever. Capable of so much, unfortunately, you don't know. You've only scratched the surface."
"I-I think you are mistaking me with somebody else," she stammered, pushing her file away from him. "I am not-I'm not what you think I am."
It frustrated her the look that Shaw and Azazel shared. They pitied her. "You can trust me," Shaw said.
"No," she said automatically. "I can't."
"Why not?"
"Because..." you're a man, she wanted to say. Men lie and cheat and hurt.
She was not accustomed to being near men. Most of her life, she had been surrounded by women and the men she had been her, had only done more harm than good. She rubbed her arm as a form of reassurance, although she felt none.
"You're one of us. I want to protect my own. No one will understand you but we will, we don't have a lot to lose, Clara. In reality, you have a lot to gain with me. Don't be afraid of the unknown, be more afraid of what you know."
"I'm not afraid," she said and that time was not in a whisper.
Shaw gave her the same unnerving smile and took a step closer to her, getting in her personal space. Clara noticed that he never took his eyes off her, and she couldn't look at him more than a few seconds.
"What exactly do you want from me?"
"For you to join us, simple as that," he said. She frowned. That's what he wanted? Did he go all this trouble for that?
"I can't do that."
"Why? It's not like you have a family," Azazel said snidely.
"Clara," Shaw said patiently. "What I just said is true. This is only a part of it. There is a lot that you don't know and that need to learn about your mutation. I want you to join me. You have no idea what is going to happen."
She remembered her skin bursting into flames, the cuts that were in her hands that Sean once had, the once dead bird flapping their wings and how she could hear the faint heartbeat of animals.
"Can I have time to think about this?" she asked quietly and when she saw Shaw nod, she relaxed slightly, knowing they were done for the night.
He gave her a week. Seven days before he would appear again with the red man and force her to make a choice. But she already had made her choice. She wanted nothing to do with him. She only wanted time away from him because everything about him terrified him.
Clara didn't leave the diner right away as much as her brain wanted to. She was afraid that if she left the diner, they would be outside, more of Shaw's followers. Clara stared at her hands and traced her hands lightly, imagining of all the scars that should be in her body if she didn't heal.
Clara would have been dead, she realized. She had been hurt so much in her life. Whether by accident or on purpose. She lost count how many times she had seen blood drip from her finger, nose of mouth. Her mutation had saved her. She wrinkled her nose at the new word.
"Mutant," she said out loud for the first time and was surprised how natural it sounded.
You're afraid, that's normal. But it's not normal to always be afraid.
Those were the last words Shaw said to her before he disappeared with Azazel. The left the same smoke that had left her disoriented. Clara had already made up her mind, she was not leaving with a man who not only threatened her but hurt her in a span of a few hours. Clara had a home where people worried about her and gave her what she needed. Why would she ever leave it for the unknown?
Walking home, Clara was joined by another of the kid from the orphanage that was coming back from their job.
"Hey," he said, and Clara realized the kid was Ron. "How was work?"
"Terrible," she croaked.
"Tell me about it. Thank God tonight is over," he said. After that, they walked silently, side by side, not having anything else to talk about. Sister Rosemary, like every other night, was waiting at the door for the rest of the kids that had jobs to come back.
She was stopped at the door, Rosemary looking down at her. "Clara, what happened to your neck?" she asked.
Clara's hand went to her neck, not realizing that Azazel left a mark. "I got caught in one of the cook's aprons," she lied.
"Be careful, Clara," Rosemary said lightly.
"Is the last name Wechsler Jewish?" she asked bluntly. Clara swore she saw Rosemary tense, but couldn't be sure.
"I don't know," Rosemary stammered and Clara ignored how strange she sounded. "Why on Earth would you ask me that?"
"No reason." Quickly, Clara slipped into the house, not wanting to go into the conversation further. She decided to shower in the morning, physically exhausted of everything she had done that day. Her friends were awake, all huddled in the corner, whispering. They quiet down when they heard her open the door.
"Clara," May whispered. "Hi. Come over, we want to show you something."
Clara gave her a tired smile and walked over to her bed, sitting down. "Tomorrow. I'm really tired."
"It's a letter from Naomi," Caitlin said bluntly. Clara internally sighed, and stayed where she was. She discarded her sweater and apron.
After Naomi had left, she had sent a letter about a month after her departure, explaining that Sister Karen had been looking for her second cousin for a while, and when they found him, he had offered to have Naomi move with him. Naomi had agreed happily, but the only problem with moving with him and his family was that he lived in Tennessee and he couldn't go all the way to Chicago to pick her up.
That was the reason there was a rush of plans for Naomi to go with her cousin or uncle as he apparently wanted to be called. The discretion was because the nuns had to bend a few of the rules to have Naomi join her family.
"Come on, come on. We still haven't read it, we were actually waiting for you. Come on," May insisted, patting the empty spot in front of her.
Clara stilled and cocked her head to the side. Curiosity taking over, she walked over to them and went on her knees. She was in between May and Caitlin.
"You're so warm, Clara," May sighed in content, going closer to her. "And you just came from outside, how is that possible?"
Despite the cold that would come at night, Clara never felt it. She was always warmed, and during the summer, she had heard the complaints of her roommates. They didn't understand why their room was sweltering hot at night when it usually was only warm if they closed all the windows to preserve the temperature.
They're not complaining anymore, Clara thought grimly, the weather feeling like it was winter already. Even Caitlin, despite her anger towards her, leaned closer to her, desperate to warm her frozen hands.
"Warm body," Clara said wryly and tugged at May nightgown. "What did Naomi say?"
In the darkness, she could feel May beaming. "'Dear friends,'" she started.
"Wrong letter, I guess," Caitlin said, but got shushed by May.
"'I'm so sorry that it has been awhile since we've communicated, but sending letters from the middle of nowhere is really hard. Everything is good here in case you're wondering. It's not the same as Chicago, but it's not horrible. Just really boring. My uncle is working hard and at the same time making me work too. Good thing that I like the cows and roosters. Anyways, how are you guys? What is happening? Has anybody said anything about me? How's school? Are you growing your hair out May? Are you ever going to cut your hair, Caitlin? How's your job, Clara? I miss you guys, Naomi.'"
May squealed in delight, clutching the letter tightly against her chest. Her smile was so wide it hurt Clara by just looking at her.
"I thought he was her cousin," Caitlin frowned and snatched the letter to read it. May frowned and scooted over to her.
"Last letter, Naomi said he liked to be referred as Uncle Kev," Clara reminded her and Caitlin ignored her, her forehead creased as she concentrated. "Didn't it say that, May?"
"Who cares?" May said, oblivious to the tension from the other girls. "She wrote to us. I hate that she can't write to us that often."
"At least she writes us," Clara offered. "Her uncle is nice enough to drive an hour to the post office."
"Because it's on his way to the market," Caitlin said icily.
"No, it's not. The market is closer," Clara shot back. "Naomi write in her last letter that he has to drive more to get to the post office."
May nodded and gave her a bright smile. "That's true. Hey, by the way, how was work today?"
Clara stiffened at the mention of the diner and was thankful that it was dark so they wouldn't be able to see her grimace. "It was... boring," she said carefully. "Nothing new. Same old, same old."
"I should get a job," May said wistfully. "Others are getting jobs. I heard Ron and Jonathan are delivering the newspaper to a rich neighborhood."
"More like stealing it," snorted Caitlin. Clara shot her a withering glare. Caitlin shifted in her seat, pretending to not feel the heat from the other girl.
"I can ask in my job if they need any help," Clara said. May grinned at her. "They might be needing help." Clara paused when she realized what she said. They didn't need any more staff, but if Clara left, they would need someone to cover her.
"Really? That's wonderful. Imagine if the both of us worked together?" May said. "It would be so much fun."
"I'm sorry, but I'm going to bed," Clara said, getting up fast and going to her bed. She couldn't think about the future at the moment.
"Clara..." May's soft voice called.
"Leave her alone," Caitlin said. "She's tired."
That night, Clara had the same dream. Mud, rain, being all alone, the light. She woke up early in the morning, her skin full of sweat. The dream didn't fill her with the familiar dread, instead, she felt a strange anticipation. Maybe that dream was preparing her for the storm that would soon come.
The week passed like a blur, and it wasn't until halfway through when Clara realized what Shaw had done. What if he gave her time to make her more paranoid and when he showed up, he would actually kill her?
At the orphanage, where she should have felt safe, it seemed the opposite. Clara knew that Azazel would appear in her room because every morning in her desk there was something new. A dead flower. A can of corn. And one time a bible that turned out to be from the Jewish. She would hide it quickly, but not fast enough, Caitlin would always look at her questioningly. That made her not be able to sleep for the rest of the time, afraid that Azazel will strangle her in her sleep. He didn't strangle her but made her paranoid and that was worse.
Sister Karen had even yelled at her for not praying during one dinner. That had earned her looks from everybody from the orphanage. She had to clean the table and she swore she saw smoke appear when she turned around. That wasn't the only time she felt like Shaw was doing something to tamper with her choice. Every time someone did something that seemed out of the ordinary, she would look at them accusingly, knowing that they were working with Shaw. The only thing she received were strange looks and at times insults. The girls in her school could be really mean.
At her job, Clara couldn't help and glance at the booth were Shaw would sit. He wasn't there, as he had promised. She would stare at the booth, recalling the events of that night. Everything was still fresh in her mind, and the more she thought about it, the more what Shaw had said made sense.
He hadn't been lying, every time he spoke, he told her the truth. She could hear his steady pulse and how clear he sounded when he spoke. As crazy everything sounded, she believed him. He was like her, and he wanted to help her. She needed the help, it was made clear when he ambushed her without a struggle.
The whole situation was ridiculous. Being back in the dinner, she would remember that night and it made her feel the same emotions. But having an entire week to think about Shaw's offer, her initial decision didn't match her current emotions.
On the last day, Clara had woken up late, almost all the children were eating breakfast, from the sound of it. May was gone, Clara could hear her downstairs laughing loudly at something a girl said. Caitlin, on the other hand, was still there, forcing her frizzy hair into a bun.
"Hello," Clara said, giving her a cautious smile.
"Hi," Caitlin forced herself to say. She went back to her business and when she finished, went to her bed to put on her shoes.
You don't have a lot to lose, Clara.
"I'm sorry," Clara said, surprising herself and Caitlin. It was like a damn broke, and she couldn't stop talking. "I'm sorry. I honestly don't know what I did wrong to make you so mad at me, but I do know it was something."
Caitlin stared at her, her gaze not softening. "You don't know what you did?"
"Does it matter?" she sighed and got up from the bed. "I know you. You take everything personally as if the problem was you. Well, it's not. I haven't do anything to you. I'm not the problem."
"Are you saying that I'm making a big deal out of nothing?" That seemed to anger Caitlin. "Really? Do you think is that suppose to make things better? That's it! That's the problem! You think you've done nothing. You've pushed everybody away for some reason and when we try to help you, you ignore us. Everything's your fault."
Clara felt like her soul was being crushed. She just wanted to make it right with Caitlin, to prove wrong that man. But everything he had said was coming true. She was trying to make amends. Clara was growing desperate, knowing she had a short amount of time before everything changed, but Caitlin didn't know that. Without another word, she grabbed her clothes, deciding to change in the bathroom.
She heard Caitlin mutter about how crazy she was and that it was her fault. Clara waited for her to storm downstairs before she changed. Despite being in the middle of an argument, Clara made sure to pick up her nicest blouse, the only one that didn't have a hole in the sleeves, and her smoothest skirt. She wanted to look her best that day, whether or not something happened.
Clara for the rest of the day looked at everything carefully. To look at the small things in her life that she never gave a second glance. The street sign in front of the house, the cracked sidewalk, the sour smell of the school. It was all familiar, but those weren't the details she notices.
But the closer she looked at her life, the more she realized that she didn't have everything.
Her food portions were small because they nuns couldn't afford more food. Her clothes were old and thin because she would get the hand me downs from the older kids. Her friends didn't really talk to her because she had slowly been shutting them out. Her desk was squeaky and any moment would break because the desk was probably older than she was. Her manager would always put her on the bottom, forcing her to take the worst tasks because he considered her incompetent.
When school ended, Clara realized that her time was up. She was walking to the orphanage to change her clothes. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, she fidgeted and smoothed her skirt. The door opened and Caitlin froze.
"Oh. Why are you still here? You're going to be late," she said flatly.
"I know. I'm going," Clara said and hastily put her hair in a ponytail. Clara washed her hands, drying them quickly. Caitlin stopped her by the door, taking a step back to look at her. Clara took a step back, feeling trapped.
"What is up with you today?" Caitlin eyed her suspiciously, stepping into the bathroom. "Clara..."
Clara sighed at her cold demeanor, more irritated than upset. She had given Caitlin her space to get over her anger but time only seemed to fuel it.
Caitlin tried again to talk to her.
"I don't care," Clara interrupted her. "I tried a few times, but I guess I couldn't. I have to go, anyways. I'm going to be late."
"Clara, stop. I need to say something. Don't leave."
"I have to go to work."
Caitlin grumbled under her breath before she said, "I'm sorry." Clara blinked, taken aback by the apology. Caitlin hurried to explain herself. "When Ms. Miller died I wanted to help you, but you pushed me away. And, like you said, I took it personally. And then I felt bad, but you seemed to act like you didn't care, so I got mad that you didn't say anything. So sorry."
Liar, Clara realized. She was lying. She didn't mean what she said. But Clara couldn't say that she only nodded. Caitlin apology added a weight to her chest. She had no idea if she was only saying that to make actual amend or because she was guilt into apologizing. "Yeah, I'm sorry too."
Caitlin hesitated before, she did the same thing. Clara had to fight the urge to throw herself at her and punch her for being a terrible friend. Instead, she gave her a weak smile.
"I'll see you later, Caitlin," Clara said and ran out of the bathroom, even though she was already really late to her shift.
"Claire!" Steve yelled at her. She jumped and looked over to him, seeing him glare at her. "What are you doing? Get over here and start taking orders!"
She frowned and shook her head.
"Claire!" he yelled again. "Get over here!"
"It's Clara," she said shortly.
"What? What did you say?" he said. He got distracted by one of the cook's from behind the bar and dismissed her with his hand carelessly. He didn't care anymore. "You know what, forget it. Just get over here and start taking tables, we don't have time."
"My name is Clara, and I don't want this job anymore," she said, but no one was listening to her anymore, and went to the kitchen. She bumped into Darla when she was going to the back door.
"Where are you going?"
"I'm taking a break."
"Fine, but be back in fifteen, we need you," Darla said distractedly. Clara wanted to tell her not to count on it, she wasn't coming back.
Like always, she kept it to herself and walked out of the diner, feeling a small weight disappear. She had no idea where to find him, Shaw, but she would walk all day and night until she was with the people who would understand her.
No one will understand you but we will, we do
The streets were mostly empty, at times cars would pass by, but for the most time, Clara was all alone. She had no idea where to find the Shaw. He never said where he would be. She could have waited at the diner and hoped her would appear like he did last week, but with her nervousness, she knew she couldn't wait a few didn't stop until she reached an empty alley and slipped inside. Clara leaned against one of the grimy walls and buried her face in her hands, trying to collect herself. She did not want Shaw to see her fall apart because of him.
Maybe it was because she was afraid she would regret everything. Clara tried not to over think her decision, fearing that once she was with Shaw, she would regret it and would not be able to leave. Despite what Shaw had assumed, she did have a lot to lose. She had friends, school, her job, church, and herself.
She cared about people thought about her and dread to think about what they would say when they found out she disappeared. She already overheard the nuns discussing her mental state and had cried for an entire night when she heard Sister Karen suggest to take Clara to a hospital. It really was difficult for Clara to explain why she been crying to a concern May and Caitlin.
Clara felt her chest tightened and forced herself to stop at the nearest empty ally and slipped inside. Clara leaned against one of the grimy walls and buried her face in her hands, trying to collect herself. She did not want Shaw to see her fall apart because of him.
"I'm not scared," she told herself. You don't have a lot to lose, Clara. In reality, you have a lot to gain with me, Shaw words echoed. "I have nothing to lose. I am not scared."
"If you say so."
She saw Azazel, the man that looked like the devil. He appeared out of nowhere and that time, she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming.
"I'm not scared," she told him, remembering her previous thoughts, but her voice wavered in the end. I'm terrified, I don't want to leave, but if I stay...
To her chagrin, Azazel took a step closer to her and was close enough for his tail to cut her in the right arm. Blood seeped down her forearm, staining her skirt.
"Stop that," she snapped, not bothering to cover her wound. It quickly healed. She knew he did it on purpose, the malice glint he wore making her rethink her decision.
"He was right," Azazel muttered to himself, sounding slightly disappointed.
"About what?" she said and wasn't surprised when he didn't answer. She watched in fascination as he wiped his tail clean with the sleeve of his suit.
"I was hoping you weren't one of us," he said honestly. "We really don't want to deal with a child. But it looks like, we're going to have to get used to it. Emma's not going to be pleased. Shouldn't be surprised, Sebastian is never wrong when it comes to mutants."
"No, no. You don't understand," she said desperately.
"Clearly. I'm not insane like you."
"No, the whole idea of mutants is ridiculous. I mean look at you. You shouldn't look like that. I shouldn't be able to bring dead things back to life. And Shaw probably shouldn't do what he does, which I don't even want to know. This is not right. Why are we like this? What terrible things did we do in our previous life to end up like this?"
"I hear your parents were Jewish," Azazel said gleefully. As strange the entire situation, Clara realizes this was the first time she had openly complained about her situation without having to fear the consequences.
"This is..." She motioned between of them. "... is insane. It cannot be real. I mean, you could be the devil, and Shaw is just luring me to take me to an asylum. Why am I here? This could be a trap."
"Then why did you show up?"
She wanted to correct him and tell him that he went to her. Instead, she shook her head. "This is happening, isn't it?"
"It would be very stupid of you to leave," he said in a low voice, taking a step closer. "It may seem Sebastian gave you a choice, but he only gave you time for you to pick whether you go willingly or not. Sebastian has a plan, and you're part of it."
For the first time, Clara looked at Azazel directly. She still felt the same fear as she did the first time she saw him, but she told herself over and over again to ignore it. Somehow in the light, he was more menacing. He didn't look afraid that someone might appear and take a good look at him. That was what made her afraid of him; Azazel didn't seem to care about anything.
"Did it hurt?" she asked him, motioning his entire body. She wondered how old was he before he realized that he was starting to look like Lucifer.
"Nothing compares being burned alive," he said, giving her a knowing look. "Or so I hear."
She glanced at her hand and with a flex, her skin started searing as flames burst from inside and slowly turned into its hard state. It was only seconds before the flames started dying and got replaced with the magma. She watched him look at her with mild interest and disgust. It made her smile.
"It used to hurt so much, but now..." she trailed off. The burning didn't hurt anymore, or maybe she had come to enjoy the pain. She quickly forced her body to go back to normal, her skin slowly going stitching itself to its original state. "Are there more like us?" she asked timidly. "Like a girl?"
"Yes. Her name is Emma and she is going to make your life hell. I wouldn't trust her if I were you," Azazel warned. Clara nodded, not expecting anything else. "She's a mind reader. She can get inside your head and mess with it."
"I'd like to see her try," she muttered
He glanced down to his watch and pressed his lips tightly. "We should go. Sebastian isn't one who likes to be kept waiting." Azazel extended his hand and she was about to take it when she stopped, hesitating.
"Wait. Are we going to go to Shaw right?" she asked and from the look she got, she felt foolish for asking. "Is the teleporting going to hurt?"
Azazel simply grinned at her, his bright eyes taunting her, daring her to find out. Staring straight into his eyes, Clara reluctantly took his hand, knowing that she could have made a worse decision.
Shaw is here and he ain't leaving!
So what do you think? I'm so excited about this, I am vibrating with excitement. I feel like this is the end of part one (AKA the introduction), and now we're moving on to part two, the more exciting and dangerous part of Clara's life. While I am going to do that, I'm just wondering if anybody is curious of wanting a small chapter, showing the Clara with the rest of Shaw group. If I were to do it, the chapter would be small, and then I would proceed to the large time jump. And because we're moving on, there will be a large time jump, to catch up to the events of the movie, right into the nitty gritty things.
Thank you so much for everyone that has followed, reviewed and favorite. It means so much and I really am thrilled that people are interested and patient with my story. I want to do better in the updates and want that to be one of my resolutions for the next year.
I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but in my profile, I tend to place updates about when I might update. So check that out if it has been a while since I've updated. (Also, if there are any grammatical errors, I will go back and fix them. There probably will as I now am numb with reading this over and over). Sorry for the long note.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men or anything related to marvel.
Ella: Aww, thank you :) Hope this was soon enough.
erthjdtrjbh: Thank you for the review :) Yeah, it's slow in the beginning, and I sometimes wished that more could happen. But I wanted to make point of showing who Clara was before the other stuff happened to her (you'll see later on). Although you don't have to worry, that's the last of the slowness. It's about to pick up like this chapter set everything in motion as you saw.