Chapter Eighty-Seven

Claire jerked awake, looking down at John as he tossed and turned in his sleep, his hands gripping the sheets with white knuckles. "John." She placed her hand on his shoulder, gently shaking him. "Come on, Sexy, it's time to wake up." She winced as John's hand clamped around her wrist, brushing her hand through his hair to try and calm his fear from the dream. "John, wake up." She smiled as his eyes opened, the yellow slowly fading back to brown in the dim moonlight shining through his window. "Nightmare." She gasped as he threw the covers off of himself, watching as he paced around his room, almost like a caged lion. "John, it was just a dream."

He shook his head, heaving a breath as he raked his fingers through his hair.

Claire nodded, knowing that at one time it hadn't been just a dream. "John, come back to bed."

He took a few heavy breaths, his eyes landing on the bottom drawer of his dresser. He rushed over to it, ripping it from the frame as his hands clutched at the clothing he had inside of it.

"John!" Claire tried to pull him away from the mess he was making, unsure of what he was doing. "Stop."

He pushed her away, pulling something from the bottom of the drawer, letting the moonlight glint off of the steel edge.

Claire looked at the knife, wondering what was going through his head. "John…" She jumped as he turned on her, seeing something off in his eyes. "John… what are you doing?"

He dropped the knife, seeming to come back to himself as he looked at his hands like they were someone else's. He looked up at her, fear shining in his eyes.

She knelt beside him, slipping the knife away from him as she tried to get to the bottom of what was going through that damaged head of his. "What were you going to do?" She asked, wiping a tear from his cheek.

John made a fist, like he was holding the knife with the intention of stabbing something, jabbing the imaginary blade toward his own chest.

Claire nodded, pulling his shaking body toward herself, feeling his soundless sobs as he cried into her shoulder. "John… Sexy…" She pulled his head back, brushing his tears away with her thumbs on his face. "It's never that bad. I'm here for you." She smiled, kissing his nose as she pulled him to his feet to walk back to the bed. "I couldn't stand it if you died." She laid in the bed with him, looking at the open door. She stood, walking over to the door and closing it. She turned to John, her hands gripping the bottom of her shirt as she pulled it over her head. Standing before him in noting but her bra and the sweatpants she'd stolen from him. "Would it make you feel better if we…"

John gapped at her, looking at every curve of her body as she stood before him. He shook his head, picking up one of his old t-shirts and pulling it over her head. He had to force himself to not take her offer, knowing that she was only offering because he was such a wreck. He took her hands in his, kissing her knuckles as he opened the door again. He pulled her to the bed, letting her lay on top of him as he closed his eyes to try and fall back to sleep. He felt her nails tracing over his scars, knowing that she was pitying him. "D-o-n't." He managed the word, praying that she knew what he meant.

She looked up at his face, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he leaned into her touch. "Don't speak." She whispered. "You'll hurt your voice."

John nodded, holding Claire tighter as he tried to think of a way to tell her what he wanted to say. He opened his notebook, picking up a pen and scribbling down what he wanted her to know. "I'm sorry. I wish I was better."

Claire gave him a puzzled look, handing the book back to him. "Better?" She asked, hoping he could explain.

He scribbled a few more words down handing to book back to her. "You deserve better. I'm broken, and you deserve someone who doesn't scare you as bad as I do."

Claire shook her head, knowing that she had to show him that she was just as broken. She handed the book to him, walking over to her room a few doors down and returning a moment later with her diary. "Read it."

John took the book from her, opening it to the page that had the first entry on it. He read the writing there, reading the story of the day of Thomas and Clarissa's first big fight. He could see the tearstains on the pages, see how her hand had been shaking as she'd written the words. He paused for a moment, reading the line again, praying that he'd read it wrong.

I wish I could be taken away from this house. Even if I had to live in the hood with the burners.

John met her gaze, noticing a pale scar on her wrist. He took her hand in his, leaning closer to her wrist in hopes that he was seeing things.

She looked into his eyes, giving a slow nod. "I did it."

John pulled her to him, his fingers clutching at her back. How hadn't he known? He'd been tailing her for years, trying to make sure she stayed away from his group of riffraff and stayed clean and happy. The whole time he'd thought she was a perfect princess without a care in the world, the kind who wanted to live forever; but now he knew… he knew that she hadn't been happy. She'd been so upset with herself and everyone around her, that she'd taken a blade to her own skin to try and numb the emotions.

Claire rubbed his side, knowing that he blamed himself for her actions. "It wasn't your fault." She kissed the hollow behind his ear, laying him against the pillows to try and get him to sleep. "It was my choice." She brushed her fingers through his hair, smiling as he started to nod off after a few moments. "Go to sleep, Sexy." She whispered, kissing his neck as his breathing became slow and deep with sleep. "There." She smiled, curling up to his side as he began to snore. "I love you, Sugar." She yawned, the idea that she'd hit on his pet name making her content as she fell into a deep sleep.