Claire opened her eyes, peering over at Sherry now, half confused, half smiling. "What was that?" She asked, watching the blonde shrink away and hide her face.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything." Backing down was easier than taking this any further. Claire hadn't taken it seriously, so she needed a quick escape. "Go to sleep." Smooth…

The older woman adjusted, propping herself up just enough to look down at Sherry. "Well you said something because I heard you. Now c'mon. What was it? I won't be mad." It was increasingly obvious Claire had heard. She wasn't ready to be lectured. Not about this. Anything but this. She tried to keep quiet, but Claire wouldn't let her. "Hey. I know you're awake. Can't ignore me forever."

"I can try!"

"Can you not try?"

Sherry made a noise, stubbornly rolling away to face away from her. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest and curled up, trying to look smaller than she already was. "Forget it. I don't want to talk about it. It was stupid."

"Sherbear… Come on. It wasn't stupid." She said, reaching out to give the girl's arm a reassuring squeeze. "You're just at that age where you're- I don't know. Interested in people?" It was becoming painfully clear that Claire had never talked to anyone about sexual maturity. She was the youngest after all. She never had to worry about explaining this to anyone.

"Interested in… Claire stop. Please? Don't make me beg." Part of her wasn't afraid to beg, but beg for something else. "I should have known better than to say anything."

"Hey, hey, relax. I'm not mad." She paused. "I just think that it would be in your best interest to maybe look for someone… younger?" She explained, trying to get Sherry's attention by leaning over her.

Sherry rolled onto her back against her better judgement. She liked Claire where she was, even if they were, maybe, fighting. "Younger! Where would I find someone like that?" She demanded, wondering if she'd start crying. Of all the tests, all the experiments, Sherry wished most of all they'd someone suppressed her emotions because right now they were the last thing she wanted.

Claire hesitated, realizing her idea was so much easier said than done. Moreover it wasn't as if she herself was even seeing anyone. Talking was easier than doing, even for her. She could be dating but there was no one that even felt wroth it. "Well you're getting out eventually right? I'm sure there's someone special out there?" She tried to smile, but it only came out awkward and forced.

"I told you to just drop it." She said, turning her head away once more.

"But I mean didn't you say the other day we're practically family? So it would be kinda weird t-"

"Claire!" She said sharply, watching the auburn haired woman slink away. "I get it. Okay? Can we stop?"

"Yeah… Yeah I'm sorry." She shook her head trying to wave it all away. Laying back down next to Sherry, she tried to change the subject. "Can I hug you again? It's cold in here." Mostly a lie… Cold was relative. The room's temperature, like everything else in Sherry's life, was controlled.

Eventually, she nodded, scooting back to meet Claire again. Still too stubborn to look at her, she closed her eyes as she felt Claire hug her. "I'm sorry I'm stupid." She mumbled before feeling a kiss placed on the back of her head.

"You aren't stupid. It's hard to be alone. I get it. And… Look I do want you to be happy. Honestly." She began to explain, wondering when Sherry would cut her off again. So far only silence. "I just don't think you know what you want right now, and it would be bad for both of us to jump into something that… we aren't actually ready for." It sounded good in her head. She was almost proud of it until Sherry spoke again.

"Claire?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"Oh."

For the rest of Claire's visit, they both tried to pretend nothing ever happened. They talked about anything else, even if they didn't want to. Sherry felt nothing but regret for ever speaking up, but she couldn't take it back now. Claire did her beset to move on and she didn't seem angry. Awkward, yes, but she always was. That fact became more obvious as Sherry grew up that Claire wasn't actually as cool as she first thought. Not that it mattered, because she still idolized the woman. She was too warm hearted not to.

Parting that night was harder than it normally was. Their goodbyes felt forced, and Sherry, despite her better judgement, couldn't let go of Claire. She lingered in their embrace, and she wanted to swear that Claire did the same. Whether she did or did not mattered little, because inevitably, she left, same as always.

She had intended to get back to her school work after Claire left. It was only nine, but she was too exhausted with herself to even bother. It didn't matter. No one would care. She had a weeks worth of work at a time so no one would actually even realize she hadn't continued. Right now, nothing felt that important except sleep. At least while she was unconscious, she wouldn't have to deal with herself anymore.

"Don't you trust me?"

The voice burned in her ears. She looked around and saw herself, was herself, as she was then, as she was now, backed against the wall. 12? 18? 30? Random, meaningless numbers. A school uniform that did not fit, that still fit perfectly, that she still owned. There was a woman keeping her closed in, trapped and safe. Claire as she was; Claire as she is now. Both nineteen and not. They were the same, she was the same.

Sherry could smell blood. On herself. On the walls. On Claire. Claire smelled the most like blood and rot.

"I don't trust you. No, I do, I trust you." She said both things at the same time, feeling Claire edge closer. What's to trust? The knife made her nervous. The handle had blood drying on it already. When did this start?

She felt small, was small. The room was dark, it was only them trapped together, one person, close and cold.

She saw herself elsewhere, trying to run. "Hey hey! It's alright!"

She was herself again. Claire was not. She felt the wallpaper against her hands, felt Claire's hand against her stomach. The moans of the undead filled her ears. Her own voice. Not Claire's. Claire wasn't speaking, only doing, moving, existing. She was something else. Something dead, something far too alive to account for.

Something soft, something foul. Her hands were above her head, held tightly to the wood paneling. She could squirm if she wanted, would squirm even if she did not. There was a hand at the hem of her shorts, a hand passed the hem of her shorts. She smelled sewage and her stomach hurt. No, no, that wasn't right.

"Claire? I'm stuck!"

She was on her back again. She was bare. She was small and vulnerable. The figure on top of her didn't care. She didn't care herself. She needed to care. She was supposed to run. She knew better than to stay this was her fault she was bad—

Something that sounded like Claire was telling her it wasn't her fault. A warm, maternal voice that did not fit the teeth at her neck. Not enough to damage, just enough to hold. Her stomach didn't hurt anymore. She was dizzy, floating. "I won't hurt you. I love you."

She wasn't supposed to like it. She liked it. She loved it. She needed it and she hated herself. She clung to the image, whimpering, begging. A million hands kept her in miserable bliss. She couldn't hear herself anymore. There was nothing now. No smell, no water, no blood and no death.

Just a beep, getting louder.

Sherry pulled her head from the pillow, and everything vanished once more.