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THERE WAS A CERTAIN BLISS which could be found in the feeling of the numbing wind. The wind had a mind of its own, you see, its wisps and gusts slipping freely through the fingers of those greedy enough to try to grasp it. The wind was bold, fierce, and strong, yet it was dainty, calming, and grounding. It could be bitter and cruel but oh, it could be sincere and welcoming. The tree above danced with the whirling wind, both whistling and howling in delight. A soothing sound, one that wasn't lonely. They jostled in harmony, one unable to work without the other in their intricate dance.
Clara Shelby sat unmoving in the grass, just as she always did nowadays. The blades tickled her legs as she sat cross-legged with her shoulders unrolled. Her eyes remained shut as the wind fluttered around her in a euphonic matter. Her eyes weren't scrunched or shut firmly, they were closed softly and calmly in a state of relaxation. The wind whispered in her ear as short strands of her pulled-back hair came loose from its bounds and traipsed down the hallowed cheekbones that stood out hand in hand with the dark shadows beneath her eyes amongst the pallor of her skin.
The wind crept down her arms and legs and left behind a trail of goosebumps that went unnoticed by the young woman sitting still. Her limbs were covered by a shawl that had been haphazardly thrown over her shoulders, its deep purple and blue wool doing little to stop the shivers that threatened to erupt through her body. The soft cotton of her gloves kept the skin of her hands out of sight and out of the cold air. The material was worn and familiar, well-loved. Her hands were splayed on her lap, not touching as she breathed in the country air.
She was lost in thought, anyone who saw her would be able to tell, but whatever thoughts she'd found herself trapped in, she didn't know. It was as if her mind was blank yet her thoughts swirled just like the wind bringing forth memories and mindless thoughts like simple breezes. She found this to happen quite often, to get lost in thoughts that weren't there. She wondered if they were signs of relaxation or pure insanity. Perhaps, it was both.
The girl's eyes suddenly jumped open as the deafening crack of a gunshot rang out through the fields. Her heart was racing now, her eyes wide and wild. Her knees made their way to her chest, pushing against her sternum. She hid her hands that protectively cradled themselves over her heart. She allowed her head to drop down as her ears flooded with the sound of her blood pumping.
Three, Sting, Repent, Silence, June...Nothing.
Seven months.
Seven bloody months since she'd left that place behind and still the flashes of it remained to torment her. She had to stop. She had to stop thinking about it. Clara sucked in a deep breath as her eyes scanned her surroundings. Even out in an open field, it felt like four caged walls trapped her to her spot as she curled into herself. The worst part is, Clara knew that she shouldn't be scared. It was only John out hunting for ducks. It was routine. He did this every three days, she had been expecting it. It's not like he also hadn't warned her before she left. Her hands remained curled over her heart as she tried to steady her breathing. She needed to calm down, she couldn't go back rattled. She'd promised that she was getting better...whether they believed her or not was unknown.
Clara Shelby, now twenty years old, felt like a tall child. She felt smaller and weaker than she ever had. John had tried to help...he continued to try to help. He had reassured her that she was still the Clara she had once been, but she wasn't. She knew she wasn't. But John did his best, and Clara was grateful, she couldn't physically ask for more. He took her in with open arms, Esme and he had offered her a home to live in, an actual home, somewhere to fall asleep safely and to return to.
It didn't even cross her mind to care that they were in possession of an unruly lot of children (seven now if she were to be precise), she didn't seem to mind it at all. They offered her entertainment and love. The young woman often watched her nieces and nephews with fondness, a fondness she'd only recently discovered to have possessed. It was a known fact that Clara Shelby was never the biggest fan of children but John's lot offered her reprieve and for that, she put her qualms aside and found herself loving wholeheartedly.
Clara let her chin rest on her drawn-up knees as she took three sharp yet shallow breaths in. The clouds above were darkening, she'd have to return soon to help Esme make tea for the family. The girl didn't want to leave so soon. She quite liked her tree and the grass that lay around her. She liked the solitary of it. It was too far for the kids to wander out to yet just close enough that she didn't have to take a horse or bicycle.
Her heart squeezed tightly in her chest at the thought of riding a horse. It'd been two years since she'd seen Cannon. Two years since she'd ridden him out of Small Heath with the wind in her once wild hair. Clara hoped Curly was looking after him. If she could've she'd have brought him with her to John's, but they didn't have a stable and Clara had already brought so many problems to their lives, she refused to impose any more of her issues onto the family.
The scrunched her face up before she straightened out her legs. There was no point in reflecting on that. It was a pointless endeavour, what happened in the past had to stay there...she would force it to stay there. Clara pushed herself to her feet and dusted off her skirt before she began her trek back towards John and Esme's.
The walk was one she cherished. It allowed Clara to think and treasure the green fields she didn't know that she'd missed until she'd arrived at John's. She'd missed the open and vastness of fields, the blades of grass swaying freely in their grounded state. She liked to get lost in the fields. She wasn't afraid of going missing, she knew she'd be okay and John and Esme knew that if she was gone for a particularly long time, she'd eventually turn up at the house.
She always did.
Smoke furled in the air over the hill as John and Esme's home came into view. The cold and bitter air was nipping at her limbs and as she watched the smoke curl, she couldn't help but smile softly at the thought of curling up beside the lit fire. As Clara approached the home, she faltered in her tracks. The sight ahead of her made her want to run back to the safety of her steadfast tree. A black car was parked in the driveway of the house, its sleek exterior new and untouched. Clara felt dread creep over her, its fingers twisting strands of her hair and caressing the sides of her face as it attempted to entangle itself in her soul. Her gloved fingers were trembling at her side. She felt them sting beneath the leather, each sting long and sharp, designed to weaken her.
No.
Clara wouldn't be afraid. Not anymore. She couldn't be afraid. The young woman gulped and raised her head ever so slightly as she continued towards the home. She suppressed her rising nerves as she passed the sleek, Shelby-owned car. Clara scrunched her face in uncertainty before entering the home as quietly as possible. She could hear John's kids' faint chatter from her position in the hall while she strained her ears to hear the voices in the parlour. Clara felt the vaguest smile seep onto her face at the sound of them playing. She'd have to join them later. The young woman silently crept towards the room, her feet careful as she avoided any cracks in the floor.
"Well, it's my house, you're welcome," Clara could hear John's voice filling the silence as she approached the parlour, cautiously so as not to be seen from the door that swung wide open.
"It's okay, I'm staying with Polly," Clara's heart pounded and her limbs tightened as Ada's soft voice drifted out. She hadn't seen Ada in two years. Not since she'd left for America with Karl. She hadn't written and Clara almost felt as if her older sister was just another fantasy her mind crafted. The young Shelby gulped as she remained quiet and unmoving now, her fingers tapping in their mindless usual threes. She had to keep breathing. She couldn't shut down. Not right now.
"Huh, she's in a bad way," John sighed. Clara heard a shuffling movement as her brother presumably sat in his typical armchair.
"Mm...I'll bring her to her senses..."
"Michael's already tried that,"
"I'll get through to her," Ada confirmed, Clara resisted the urge to scoff. Pol was breaking, Clara could see it ever so clearly. It would take more than Ada returning to even begin to mend their aunt. The young woman could see how fragile Pol was the last time they'd seen each other. That had been just under a year ago. Clara and Pol weren't allowed to visit each other anymore. It was for the better, Clara supposed. It hadn't been specifically demanded but John and Michael had both seemingly implied it. They'd both find every opportunity to steer the two away from one another, she eventually picked up on it and stopped all attempts.
"You still gonna come to the party on New Year's Eve?" Ada's low voice asked, Clara moved and tilted her head. She could now see her sister through the gap in the door. Ada looked better than she ever had. Her chestnut hair was properly pinned, and her pristine coat was untouched by any semblance of home. She seemed to have found herself when she'd left the grimness of London and Small Heath.
Clara was happy for her.
She did, however, chose to ignore the words Ada had spoken, she didn't want to think of the party just yet. The party meant family, family meant questions and questions meant answers, answers that Clara wasn't ready to indulge in. She snapped her head up abruptly as the clicking of heels came around the corner. She took a shallow breath in, in anticipation. Esme appeared from the kitchen holding a glass of whiskey, her sharpened eyes, softening upon seeing the young woman. The woman paused beside Clara, a comforting hand held out on display for the girl to see before she placed it on her shoulder in comfort.
Clara almost melted at the touch, her own gloved hand reaching up to place itself atop Esme's. The woman gestured her head towards the parlour and with a shaky exhale, the girl nodded.
"Yeah, who else is coming?"
"Arthur, Linda," John listed in response to the woman's question. Ada faltered as she watched Esme and Clara approach the parlour. The younger of the two had her eyes trained on her older sister, her face void of emotion. Ada took a deep breath in as she took in Esme's scornful expression.
"Hello, Esme," Ada greeted reluctantly. She turned her gaze towards her younger sister, her hardened eyes softening at the sight of Clara. "Hello, Trouble," The older Shelby smiled fondly at the nickname for the younger woman, a nickname that had been dubbed when Clara stayed in London with her.
Clara grimaced ever so slightly at the nickname, her shoulders tensing. Goosebumps travelled down the skin across her back as Ada's teasing smile faltered. The young woman gulped and looked to the floor, her eyes glazed over. Upon seeing the sudden drop in Clara's face, Esme protectively stepped forward.
"Who paid for your car and driver, Ada?" The woman asked lowly and quite threateningly. Clara took a few seconds to breathe and wrap her arms around her torso for comfort.
"Shelby Company Limited," Ada answered bluntly, her eyebrows raised in displeasure at being led away from a conversation with her sister.
"Nice car, treats you well...his last little pet," Esme commented as she glanced between John and Ada. Clara flinched and her hands continued to fiddle.
"Look, this visit is meant to be about making things all right," Ada sighed, her body loosening in defeat.
"John had a rope around his neck, he shit himself, and Clara..."
"All right, Esme, that'll do, yeah?" John cut off his wife before she could continue. Ada watched as Clara looked to John and they seemed to exchange a series of indecipherable looks. The younger Shelby still refused to meet her older sister's eyes. "Go on, go in the kitchen."
"Take the cars back to the money," Esme hissed as she grew closer to Ada. With that, she turned on her heel and left the room leaving all three Shelbys to stand in silence. Ada gave John a look of dismay and disbelief at Esme's actions, Clara for one, quite enjoyed it. Esme was fiercely protective, it was a trait the young woman quite adored about her.
"Anyway, there's your presents...there's one in there for you too, Clara," Ada broke the silence as she gathered her things, her eyes still lingering on her younger sister. "How's Arthur?"
"Uh, for Christmas get him a sewing kit," John sniffed as he shifted his position in the armchair, "so he can sew his fucking balls back on." Clara almost smiled at the comment. John had gone on and on about Saint Linda and her claws that had ensnared their eldest brother. Ada nodded in amusement as she moved before she stopped beside Clara.
"Walk me to the car?"
Clara straightened and looked to John who remained staring into space. She wished he would look. She wished he could've intervened but even Clara knew that this situation was unavoidable. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat before she nodded and followed after Ada.
"Two years and not even a hug?" Ada jested, as the two exited the home. "People may think you didn't even miss me." Clara let out a halfhearted chuckle, it was barely noticeable but it was strained and Ada picked up on it right away. She always could. "Clara?"
The younger woman took a second before she looked at her sister as they stopped beside the car. Clara's blue eyes were dim, a dull reflection of an even duller sky. That's the first thing Ada noticed, apart from the hair, of course. The woman had to refrain from gasping when she'd first seen Clara's hair. What once had been long, luscious locks, locks that their mother had once possessed had been chopped right off. Now, in its place, shortened hair, pulled back as tight as possible bar a few straggly strands that defied all captivity.
"You cut your hair?" Ada asked as her hand reached out to brush a strand from Clara's face. The young woman moved away from the touch which caused Ada's frown to deepen. "And you don't talk?"
"I do talk..." Clara spoke blankly, like an unpainted canvas, so monotonous that Ada got lost in the utter nothingness. Her voice was different, Ada realised. What once would've spouted melodic and joking words, now only released words that were steadfast and solemn. "I just have nothing to say."
"Oh, Clara..." Ada sighed once more. She was pitying her and Clara hated it. She hated it. "It's been so long since I've seen you, and I've missed you more than any other of our siblings– don't tell them I said that. I'd like to talk and catch up before I go back. Could we please?"
"There's nothing to catch up on, Ada," Clara looked away towards the fields. Dark clouds were brewing over the far hills. It would be a cold night she reckoned. "Besides, it's best to leave the past where it belongs, don't you think?"
Ada watched crestfallenly as her younger sister wrapped her arms around herself even tighter. There was a tense silence between them as they stood in the whistling wind. Clara felt her stomach swirling as the seconds turned into a minute. She hated feeling like this, especially in front of Ada. Ada who had done little to harm her
...but she still left you, Clara's brain whispered. It was a thought, one of many that constantly circulated.
"Are you going to come to the party?" Ada asked gently, now gaining an added caution to her words. "Tommy...he won't be there, I believe."
"And yet, everyone else will," Clara pulled a strained smile, her fingers drummed against her ribs. Ada's lips pursed at the answer, quite obviously unsatisfied. "I'll think about it." Ada opened her mouth as if to say more before she shut it with a small, saddened smile. The woman looked her sister up and down once more before she stepped closer.
"I've missed you," She reiterated, her blue eyes warm and glistening with a welcoming fire. Clara felt a swell of anxiety bubble in the centre of her chest while it physically sucked all normality into an unexplored abyss. "And I meant what I said, I want to catch up with you, I want to talk with you...if you don't feel like talking, I can carry the conversation. Any time with you would be worth it."
"I..." Clara faltered, her eyes drifting back towards the safety of her home. John was standing by a window, his back to the pair yet still in sight just in case. Her heart settled at the sight. "I missed you too...and I'd like that."
Ada now grinned heartily, her rosy cheeks prominent in the bleakness of their surroundings. Clara watched as the woman gave one last loving look before she entered the car and spoke with the driver. She could hear the door to the home opening whilst the car began to retreat down the country lane. A small click of a tongue rang out before a hand was placed on her shoulder.
John.
She raised her gaze to meet her brother's eyes who searched her face for any signs of hurt or anger. His eyebrows were furrowed. He wanted to ask questions but he wouldn't pry, he'd learned not to.
"I'm okay," Clara whispered, the breeze carrying the two words towards John. He tightened the grip on her shoulder momentarily before his arm slipped over her shoulder to pull her to his side. Her head found its way against his chest, his heartbeat steady and repetitive.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, just standing, breathing, existing. He handed over the reins to Clara to allow her to dictate what to do next. He hadn't believed her words, he knew her a lot more than anyone else right now– not including Will, of course. The young woman pulled away ever so slightly and John took the hint.
"C'mon," John mumbled as a chill wracked Clara's body. "Esme made dinner for the kids, we get leftovers."
Clara didn't answer. She knew she didn't have to with John. He understood. She couldn't put into words how grateful she was to have a brother like him, one who dropped everything to help her and showed her love not only through his words and actions but through his entire life. He gently led her inside the home, so unlike the usual John, she'd seen throughout her youth.
The sound of laughter from the kids, Esme's singing from the kitchen and the smell of fresh food hit Clara as soon as she entered the home. She faltered ever so slightly and allowed the most genuine of smiles to cross her face.
This was home, they were her home and she was as happy as she could possibly be.
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{unedited}
HELLO MY BEAUTIFUL READERS, I have two semi-important things to talk about so please, read below!
1. Firstly, this will most likely be the last update for a while (ROUGHLY TWO MONTHS!!), I know, I'm sorry but I have really important exams coming up and I can't risk failing them. I hope you understand <3
2. Secondly, in this act we're going to see a different version of Clara, one who isn't at all like the first three seasons. What I don't want is people dissing her for reacting differently or people yelling at me in the comments to make Clara better and to stop Clara from being pathetic (it's happened once before, I won't let it happen again).
Clara's now twenty years old, which means she's six years older than what she was in the first act, she's going to be different and if that disinterests you, that's fine, but don't slander me in the comments.
ANYWAYS, those are my main points! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll see you soon (I hope!).
LOVE YOU (and here's your weekly meme!)