Heyyy. I must say, 7 views for the last chapter? A little depressing… But anyway, my hope is that the more chapters and stories I post, the more people will read my stuff. Please review and tell me whether I'm doing an okay job or not… again, this is my first fanfic. Oh and by the way, I am thirteen so I only have gotten so far in grammar. Please tell me whether I have done anything wrong. Thanks!
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A red haze swirled inside my head. Memories, twisted and jumbled, flashed in a horrible collage of terror. Bits and pieces of my life were revealed in the sick, injured state I was in.
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"You're such a dunce!" The boy's face curled into a sneer, his hazel eyes fixating on Claire, the helpless twelve year old, whereas he was fifteen. "What kind of girl attends a self-defense lesson? Ha! Of course, how could I forget? Only the ugly and stupid ones do. Those classes are for boys!" Claire's eyes began to pool with tears as the boy continued to harass her. "And this hair," he purred dangerously as he twirled a lock of her short amber curls, which she had cut short to ease the tangling. His eyes pierced her chocolate brown ones and then he spoke again. "It sure does look like a boy's…" Then, almost randomly, he exclaimed, "I was told to never hit girls. But you look, act, and talk like a boy, so I guess it's okay to hit you!" Claire's eyes widened in shock as his pudgy hand cut through the air and struck her blotchy cheek.
Suddenly, as she lay sobbing on the cobblestone street in front of the school yard, a sharp voice full of authority filled the air. "What is going on here Eustace? Explain yourself!"
The fat little boy, Eustace, hissed, "I'll be back Claire." With that, he sprinted away as fast as those chubby legs would carry him, which was surprisingly fast, considering his weight.
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"You never think of anyone but yourself Claire!" Claire's older sister, Jane, shrieked in her face, spraying foamy spit, "I married him because I am in love! But no… you had to take it like I was deserting you! I would never! Just because I married him doesn't mean I ever stopped being your sister." Jane's face, livid with rage, hung just mere inches from Claire's defiant one.
"BUT IT DID JANE! YOU STOPPED CARING ABOUT ME OR MOTHER WHEN YOU CHOSE HIM!" Claire began to scream in frustration, "I HATE YOU! GET OUT AND DON'T EVER COME BACK!"
Jane gaped and gasped like a fish out of water and a few tears spilled over onto her cheeks, "Y-you? My own s-s-sister?!"
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Claire's hand moved across the paper, images of clouds, dragons, princes and princesses, and faraway lands being drafted across the page as the teacher taught arithmetic to the class. She failed to notice the cross teacher, Mr. Thornton, drawing closer and closer, slapping the ruler across each desk he passed.
His voice, soft but menacing, reverberated throughout the stone walls of the classroom, "Miss Darling." he addressed her as he snatched the notebook paper out from underneath her lead pencil. Mr. Thornton stalked to the head of the class, facing the pristine rows of uniformed students in their desks. The man held up the paper, full of her whimsical drawings, on display to her peers. "This is what a slacker does in their spare time," he sneered. "They do not pay adequate attention to their lessons and therefore earn themselves an extraordinary letter home." Claire stared ahead, her nine year old face void of emotion as the people around her snickered. "So now what do you have to say Claire, is your prince charming coming to rescue you?" Mr. Thornton jeered, spurring the class on to laugh at her.
Claire's first tear trickled out of her left eye, wetting her eyelashes. She began to breathe erratically as her eyes darted around, soaking in all of the hatred towards her, like a sponge in a bathtub. Just like the sponge she could not absorb all, so she suddenly began to sob. As that dreadful teacher still glared at her and her peers still chortled at her imagination, she fled the room.
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"Claire honey, you know we love you!" Jane exclaimed desperately.
"Why do I not believe you?" Claire murmured to herself as she tapped her foot nervously against the wooden table leg.
"Now is that any way to speak to your mother?" her father, Craig, questioned dangerously. Claire froze in a silent vigil, not seeming to acknowledge Craig's words. "It is extremely rude not to answer someone when you are spoken to!" he exclaimed angrily. "I know you are upset about your betrothal, I mean you are only fourteen. That is to be expected. But running away from us? Out of line Claire, you've overstepped your boundaries as our child."
"Craig," Claire's father flinched as heard his own child call him by his first name. "You are not my king. King George the III is. As you have stated before, I am only fourteen." Claire continued in a formal manner, "I have much self-control, but this I cannot bear." With a dramatic sweep, she knocked over the chair she was seated in and sped away from her freshly sobbing mother and livid father.
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Claire's ankle length dress irritated her sensitive skin, so naturally she was reaching down, trying to rid herself of that dreadful itch. The carriage suddenly fell into a rut, causing her skull to slam forcefully into the roof. She whimpered in pain as Jane immediately tried to fix her curls, now elbow length.
"My goodness, you cannot sit still can you!" her mother exclaimed exasperatedly. As she still attempted to fix Claire's hair, the buggy came to a complete stop in front of a lavish house in the country. Jane quickly straightened herself and Claire into presentable positions as the footman opened the glimmering black door of the carriage.
"The Tompkins residence ma'am," the man tilted his head respectfully and gestured toward the two-story white house, with spiraling columns and large double doors.
Claire snorted unhappily as she glanced around. The pristine gardens, perfectly placed willow trees, and proper stables seemed too surreal to her. That they belonged to her betrothed's parents made the ordeal so much worse. The unimpressed fourteen year old girl's shoulders slumped as she moved to pick up her bags. Her hand met another, larger, but just as soft one. A murmured gasp escaped her full lips as she took in the sight of her betrothed. His black hair, chocolate brown eyes, and freckled face were right up in hers as their hands unknowingly intertwined.
He whispered, sounding surprised, "My name is James Tompkins, pleased to make your acquaintance."
Claire just barely managed to curtsy and reply, "Claire Darling, and the pleasure is all mine." As she straightened, her skirt caught underneath her heels, causing her to trip and fall backside first into pile of horse dung. James burst into laughter as she blushed in complete humiliation. Dreaded salt water began to fill her eyes, blurring her vision as she staggered back into the carriage, hiding herself from his adorable, but embarrassing laughter.
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I could not let go of these terrible memories, invading my mind like poison. It was targeting my weak spots, breaking me down little by little. The sickness and hurt raged through my being, physically and mentally. My injuries were causing me to be on the brink of death. The only thing keeping me sane was Peter; the one person who I didn't know was alright.