| 18+ |
A grieving student-detective and her bilingual Italian heir.
𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐲 - She is a hard-working college student studying to become a detective after her mother's unexpected death. The cops labeled it a suicide, but she knew be...
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Air.
I needed air.
After Sage told me she killed that man at the bar a month and a half ago, my lungs collapsed. Not because of the news though, I mean, I had no room to talk whenever I stabbed someone my first week here and felt zero guilt in the end. Well, maybe my situation could be justified somewhat since there was a little girl that needed help from a disgusting pervert, but murdering is still that.
Murder.
However, the real reason I was sitting here and panicking in my bedroom is that the life I had been living for the past almost two months finally seeped to realization and hit me right in the face with reality. I always pushed my feelings away and ignored the horrible thoughts or images, bottling up everything inside of me to forget the moment. Now here I was paying for it.
"Clara, let us in!" Sage shouted as she twisted the handle multiple times. "Hiding your emotions is not healthy, please we can help!" Nova added, standing next to the ginger outside of my door.
My head started to spin and my panting grew excessive within minutes from the number of things aggressively storming my mind.
I killed someone.
I'm working with the damn Mafia.
David is all by himself with nobody to care for him because of me.
My mother's killer has yet to face any type of consequences.
And I didn't give a single fuck about any of it.
"Oh god..." I winced, quickly looking down at my fragile hands. Straight away, I saw blood covering my pale and pearly skin, dripping drop by drop onto the hard floor beneath me. The liquid continued to soak my fingers and palms as my whole body shook from the fear coursing throughout. I shut my eyes and opened them over and over again to make my imagination from proceeding with its hallucinations, but nothing changed.
My hearing suddenly tuned back in the voices shouting from behind the door earlier, a couple of them sounding new and familiar the closer they got. When I turned my focus onto my hands once more the blood was gone and my shaking had stopped.
"Ripley." A man spoke in a calming tone. "Open the door." No, no, no, I couldn't let him see me. Not like this.
The salty tears falling down my cheeks worsened from the overwhelming company. I was crying for the first time since Laura's death, there was no way I would let him enjoy my mental state for the sake of the entertainment it will bring. Stepping far away from the entrance I ran to the nearest room available.
Stumbling to the closet ground, tears poured from my eyes with how painful the unexpected fear and anxiety were. I hurried in placing my hands on my face to catch the water trickling down to the clothes I was wearing and quickly dried them off. When some of the waterworks slipped from my grasp and landed on my jeans, I went into a panic. He couldn't see me in this ridiculous state, he really couldn't.
