Chapter 22
"Okay so... Clare's mother?" Shannon asked me from where she sat beside me. The newspapers laminated were scattered before us on the table, the computers still trying to drain the life from our eyes... ugh.
Hours and hours of this and you can bet I was going to come up with a possibility for Clare's unusually worse abuse since we couldn't find it. We couldn't find any reason as to why she would abuse me worse than all the other times it happened in my family. So what other choice did I have other than to start assuming shit?
I nodded. Turning more to face her, looking into her eyes as if to try to show her my confidence of this theory, I told her what I was starting to believe. "I mean, there is no other evidence we can find. Her mom might have abused her and if she didn't, then she probably knows who did."
We were sitting here for hours with a dead end. We have been looking more into her father first, trying to come up with some possibilities or clues that could maybe point to what he could have possibly done to her. But we got nothing else but what we already knew of Martin. So I came up with a good idea on how to find out more.
I wondered about Clare's past for the longest time. And though we have a lot of answers now, it just made me wonder more questions. I knew there was more and it was much worse for her based of the stuff she did to me. First, I'm obviously treated worse. But also because her father wasn't in prison for abusing her. He was in for murder of a different issue. There was no concrete evidence to put anyone away for abusing her even if there were signs. That was how it was with me. There was never any evidence until we really started digging and still, we needed much more. Could she have inherited that from her family? The ability to hide evidence since we were unable to find anything on her being abused directly just as I didn't have any direct evidence? It was a good chance they hid it very well and that was why we couldn't find shit.
"How can you be sure though that she was abused by someone else? I mean, maybe she is just that twisted...?" Shannon asked, going out on a possibility that came to her mind. Her eyebrows raised in thought, I answered her with no more than what I was feeling with my gut instinct on this one.
I shrugged. I didn't know anything and like she said, I wasn't sure. I could be just grasping at straws but it was better than nothing for me. Especially when I had this feeling in me... (and I'm 90% sure it wasn't my hungry stomach either). "I'm not sure. It's only a good guess. But I think it's something we should check out."
Shannon only looked more confused at my words. We have been at this for hours - partially because I was happy to be out of the house but mostly just desperate for more answers. So it wasn't surprising she was unable to keep up with my overly evolved brain at the moment.
"What do you mean 'check it out?'"
"I mean, go and find her mother. Regina. And ask her questions."
Her eyes widened at me, accusing me of being crazy after I said that. I couldn't blame her. After sitting here in a safe library for hours, with the knowledge Shannon wasn't the type to do this type of stuff, it made her uneasy. "Albany," she scoffed, finding the idea ridiculous. "Do you know how dangerous that is?"
I sighed. I knew it was dangerous and I honestly wasn't even sure if it was worth it - especially considering this would be out of curiosity alone rather than to get evidence at this point since there apparently wasn't any. "Yeah but I just want to know why she is so terrible to me. I will straight up tell her the truth: that I just want to know. This wont be for evidence. Just for answers that could maybe give me some closure for once over this."
"I don't know," she said, looking down with dipping eyebrows in thought. Unsure, she pursed her lips and eyed the ground for answers. "Would it be worth the risk? Just for answers? Hell, would she even cooperate?"
I shrugged. "I have no idea. Martin cooperated, partially out of the pleasure of us wanting to take his daughter down. She might do the same, even if not for evidence."
She groaned, looking back up to me and shaking her head. "You know, she could always say no. And whether she does or doesn't, she could rat you out to Clare. And if she does, it would not make it any better if I am there with you."
"Then you can just wait in the car for me. If she calls Clare and tell her I was asking questions, then oh well I guess. Clare can't do much anymore with Luke in the house. And if she does, it wont be that bad for that fact. Trust me, out of anything, Clare is the least of my worries if she only thinks it was me looking for answers."
After I said that, it took her a minute to speak up again, most likely out of trying to find another reason as to why we shouldn't go. With a few seconds of silence passing as she thought it over, she sighed and said, "You know, Luke will so pissed..."
I smiled at seeing her slowly start to give in. See, guys. That was the work of my stubbornness, which is clearly effective. Shannon was supporting her khakis and green sweater, hair done up to rest neatly at her shoulders, which didn't help in contrast to how tired she looked. I felt bad because I knew she didn't want to. But I also knew she would at seeing how important this was.
"That's okay," I smiled. "Nothing wrong with pissing Luke off. It can be fun sometimes."
Her worried façade finally broke and she snorted at that, her tight lips slowly tilting up. And at that, I think I found my answer.
***
I knew this wasn't the house Clare grew up in. Luke and I visited that house a while ago and when the owners refused to do anything for us, that was the end of that. This house was a house her mother moved into after Clare left home. Between where she grew up though and this house, I would have guessed this to be the place she grew up even though it's not. It just looked like a place to abuse some kids, if that made sense.
The simplest way to put it: dump all the way. Worn down and not bothered to be kept up. Mold seemed to be overgrown around the edges of the rotting wood of the house, the pale blue paint over it was mostly chipped away too. The roof, I noticed, even looked a little worn with how it seemed to dip in slightly on the left side. Shudders ripped away, a cardboard box in place of one of the dusty and dirty windows, there was even a hole through the middle of the porch leading up to the house. The steps to the porch and any surrounding area of the house untouched with smooth snow, as if making this place seem even more isolated. It looked vacant. I mean, broken windows with nothing but cardboard in the winter? The house looked ready to fall over. Who could live here? According to the reports I found in that file a while back, Regina Spencer, my grandmother I never met before.
It took a moment for me and Shannon to take in the place when we pulled up on the side of the road in front of the house. But as I continued to stare at everything, I knew Shannon could only stay entrapped in this mess for a certain amount of time when she was feeling as anxious as she was.
"Now look," she said somewhat sternly, drawing my attention back to her from where I was looking out the car window. Getting my attention back, I glanced to Shannon, her eyes unsure and I saw she looked more than a little nervous. "You scream as loud as you can if anything happens--"
I chuckled, cutting her off. She was trying to talk me out of this the whole way here. Now that she knew I wouldn't, she needed to know I would be safe about this. "You worry too much. The worst that would happen is if she refuses to talk to me."
Shannon pursed her lips, her brown eyes narrowing in frustration at this. I understood where she was coming from though. She didn't like going behind Luke's back like this especially when we knew he would not at all approve of this. However, she was the oldest. Hopefully that counted for something.
"Alright," I sighed, looking back toward where my grandmother lived. What a strange thought. "I'm going in. I don't know how long I will be. Just try to be patient if you can, okay?" I asked in a sorry voice, feeling bad for her sitting here while I talk with Regina. But it's not like she can go in with me with no risk. She would make it look more suspicious even though we were only here because we were curious. Not to mention, if the worse happened and Regina rats me out to Clare, the last thing we need is Clare suspicious of Shannon.
"Yeah, that's fine," she reassured me. "I'm just worried about you."
"Don't be. I will be fine." Giving her a hopeful smile, soon after that, I swung open the car door and got out. Here goes nothing. Or everything. Depends on how you look at it.
By the time I survived my way up to the front door, it took too many knocks for my liking and too long for her to answer the door. With my hair up in a bun, the winter wind nipped at it viciously and tried to fights it's way through my coat. It didn't help that I was wearing a tee shirt and just jeans either. So thanks lady for making me wait. I mean, this wasn't some old woman that couldn't walk as I knew and soon had confirmed. This was a woman, around the same age as Jan, and she decided to take her sweet time getting the door. It's not like it's 500 below outside or anything.
Weather was the last thing on my mind though once actually seeing her when she opened the door of the house. She came into sight and our eyes met. And let me tell you guys... wow.
She looked just like Clare. Hell, this was her in 20 years, almost positive. Brown thick hair hanging around her shoulders, eyes of cold stone of the same shade, they pierced mine and offered a chill at the resemblance. My jaw went slack, eyebrows raised but I didn't notice at first. All I could take in was just her, the similarities. I mean, I found a picture of her before but I didn't realize or see the true resemblance until now. Maybe because she was younger in the pictures and had different hair. This being her natural, you just knew she was Clare's mother. Her body had the same figure, nose same length and shape, lips set poised like Clare's; her face structure was Clare's.
The difference? Her skin slowly starting to wrinkle. She didn't exactly bother keeping herself up either. Clare annoyed me with how hard she would try with her appearance, especially after Luke came along. Clare wears make-up over time, dresses formally and very nice, and walks with confidence (which just pisses me off). This lady though surpassed what I would call the-afternoon-lazy-day look. She looked just drained and tired in the sweats she supported. And hey, trust me guys, I'm not being mean because I would happily look like shit to be comfortable. But it was just the vibe off her that made how miserable she was come to life. Eyes dead, her body almost seemed hollow with the way she propped herself up against the side of the door. Though her hair was clearly like Clare's and grew around her shoulders thickly, it was all in messy knots as if just getting out of bed. Not to mention the smoke slowly winding up through the air from a cigarette between her fingers at her side made her look that much more depressing in this matching environment.
Eyebrows dipping at seeing she has a visitor, she looked down at me with calculating eyes. They tried reading me and it made me uncomfortable as she raised the cigarette to her lips. She took her time with that motion, preoccupied with just taking me in. Before lowering it and letting the smoke she breathed in release from her noticeably tight lips now, I saw her eyes narrow. I hated the way she was looking at me as she stood there, no smile, no show of anything really. It was like she was trying to be intimidating and I tried not letting that be the case.
"Who are you?" she asked, her voice raspy and deep with years of exhaust.
I sighed deeply. I didn't want to come out and just say it. But I knew that would be the best way to approach this. I couldn't lie to her. This was a trust thing. If she tells me everything, I wont lie to her. Hopefully that will happen. "I'm Albany," I said, in a strong voice but it also came out a bit quiet, as if ashamed of what I said. Maybe that's because I knew she would know of me right away just by my first name.
Her eyebrows shot up - and that was all that changed of her facial reaction, which left me a little tense. "Ah," she said after what seemed to be too long of a moment to process that. "You're Clare's."
I swallowed after looking away for a moment. Eyes staring down at my boots against the rotting wood of the porch, I felt the need to be in a warm environment hit me more. She would have to invite me in though. With her strange acceptance to seeing I was Clare's daughter though, I wont lie, I would have been fine if she said get lost. I didn't like how she didn't seem to care who I was, if I was Clare's.
When I glanced back up to her, I forced my voice to work. "Yes. Are you... surprised?" I asked and instantly internally kicked myself for such a question. I was curious though you could argue since her facial expression was probably misleading. Like I said, it didn't look as if it really impacted her. I could tell she was just that type of person who could hide her expressions, her feelings, very well though. I was sure that was where Clare got it from.
"Yes, I am," she said again, pursing her lips before she glanced down to her cigarette between her fingers. Raising them again to her lips, she took another breath before reaching out slightly and flicking the burnt ash off. Looking back to me with those slow and guarded eyes, she continued to speak to me. "I was wondering if I would ever meet you," she said, her voice lighter and I saw a sign of a smile reach her lips when she looked down to me.
I wasn't sure where to go from here though once I felt the silence set in around us, wanting to isolate us as this house alone was. But all I knew was that I needed to push on for more - to find the answers I needed. "I've wanted to meet you for some time too," I said. It was the truth. I always wondered about my grandparents. All I knew about her was what Martin claimed: that she cheated on him with some other dude. I wanted to know more - specifically, information on Clare. "I always wondered and never knew." What else could I say? Let me in and give me answers directly? No, I figured she should know that since I was standing here. She needed to be the one to bring up me entering her house. Even if I was freezing my ass off.
"Is there a specific reason you are here?" she asked me after observing me a bit more, her eyes watching me carefully. Yep. She was beating it out of me.
Well, no avoiding it now. "I want some answers."
Cocking an eyebrow of interest, she raised her head up higher and looked down to me, as if with intimidation. Lips tight, she finally - yes, fucking finally - moved off the side of the door frame and opened the door wider for me to come inside. I instantly took that opportunity. Lord knows I get doors in my face, not offers and I can honestly say I was a bit surprised at her letting me in after meeting her like that.
The exterior looked worn down. Shitty. At stepping through the door, the inside looked a bit better, but not by much. There was crap everywhere randomly, cluttered and it gave my eyes a headache. One dull lamp lighting up the space of the crammed room, I had to squint to see the details. Like the big crack running up along the side of the wall, the yellowing paint of the walls, the dirty brown carpet, smeared in stains - that were embedded from years ago, I was sure.
The smell reflected it too: shitty and smoky. The scent of cigarette smoke overwhelmed my senses and I knew instantly that that smell was buried in every inch of this room. That with the aroma of a natural musk made my head swarm and at that moment, I wished I didn't need to put up with this in this environment. But you guys know me. I can't bitch when I have lived in the worst conditions: on the streets. I guess my softness was making me sensitive to this type of stuff.
"Take a seat, wherever you can," she said, gesturing around after she closed the door and stood next to me. Honestly, how welcoming she was being though only made me that much more anxious. She looked like one tough chick and smart too. Not one that was usually generous to strangers. However, I suppose, I don't fall under that category exactly seeing as we were technically family.
By the time I stumbled my way through all the stuff laying on the floor over to the couch that was facing away from the door and towards the kitchen entrance, I took a seat where I could. The only open spot was next to the clutter of clothes, a basket of something, and a couple of glass dolls like made my visit oh so much better. Yeah, nothing like those plastic beady eyes to welcome me. I didn't judge though. It's not like many people visited probably.
Across from me was another small couch, cluttered even more except for one spot where the actual old fashioned design of it was visible. She took that spot, sitting across from me and facing me with a hard expression. This would be interesting.
And it was.
"Tell me something," she said, leaning forward and putting her cigarette out in the ashtray on the coffee table in front of us. Eyes meeting mine as she sat more comfortably back, she said, "Are you really insane?"
Oh yeah she knew of me, as I suspected. She had an old TV I noticed across the room. That was all she needed in order to know of me. It wasn't like she talked to Clare so she heard I was the town nut from the news, most likely. I understood why she would be curious. She was wondering whether it was true or if it was an 'effect' from Clare's beatings and if Clare set me up.
"No," I shook my head. Trust me, I knew this would be hard, being so truthful when it's hard to talk about certain things - and actually be sincere about them. But I would do that if it meant getting answers. "Clare blamed me as a child, was able to obtain proof.... That's part of the reason I wanted to talk with you."
"You trying to pin this on me, child?"
"No," I shook my head. "No, I am just curious. I know Clare's dad abused her. I just want to know if there was more than that. She abused me, worse than anybody before in this family. And I want to know specifically why. Why did she go so far with hurting me when the others before us didn't? I just want to know."
"Curiosity? Randomly?" she asked, lips tight and eyes trained without break. I could see why she was suspicious. 'Why now after so long?' was what she was thinking.
"Yes," I nodded, knowing I couldn't get detailed in this area. If she knew we were looking to bust Clare's ass, she would be very reluctant to tell us anything for the fact that she would feel too involved. It would be a big risk to her if she knew, even though we couldn't use her as evidence. Really, I just wanted to know out of curiosity so that's all she needed to know.
"Did you ask Clare herself about her life?"
"Yeah and she never gave me any clear answers. All I do know was that her father abused her. I have researched our family history though and found out that has been happening for generations. For some reason, she is especially more abusive to me and I want to know why."
"You want to know if I abused her?" she asked, her voice still deep and raspy, almost pushing, but if she didn't want me here, she could throw me out. It was like she was accusing me though of me putting the blame on her and I wasn't. Hell, she could have been the best parent to her for all I knew.
"No, no," I shook my head. "I didn't say that. Just if anything happened to her, more than just abuse?"
She scoffed, her eyes falling from mine to the floor and I saw them turn almost menacing. I knew I was getting to her now though. Memories obviously started to come back to her, those drained eyes of hers lost in the past as she pursed her lips. Sighing, she told me.
"I didn't do shit to that child. Did I stop her father from kicking her down the stairs, no, I did not. But I never laid a finger on her," she said in a strong, almost defending voice. Pausing for a moment, she looked back up to me and spoke. "From the beginning, Martin, my husband, was very abusive - to me. And I took it because I didn't know any other way of life. My oldest brother abused me when I was young and it was just something I could live with. Nothing nearly as bad as Martin, clearly. He was clear, he wanted to take that child down. I wouldn't stop him. I looked the other way. If I dared raised my voice to him, I would get abused."
It pissed me off. All I could do was sit there and listen and I was happy that she was telling me this though. "You wouldn't defend your own daughter?" I asked, unable to cover the disgust in my voice.
Her voice raised more, eyes narrowing on mine, more deadly. "No! I couldn't. I wanted to but I didn't and that was that!"
Her reasoning made no sense to me and I realized she was just scared. She was scared of her husband and refused to, even if for her own kid. Weak? I couldn't say because I didn't know her whole story. But I know I needed to focus on whoever it was that did abuse her because it didn't appear as if she had.
I gave a slight nod, respecting her answer as much as I could if I wanted to remain here and not kicked out in the snow. I wanted to knock sense into her but that wasn't what I was here for. I ignored the fact that she could have been part of the cause of my abuse by not stopping Clare and tried focusing on what I wanted to know.
"Who else abused her besides Martin?"
"Martin..." she scoffed, looking up and rolling her eyes as she shook her head. "Was nothing. He beat her, abused her, raped her for all I know but I doubt it," she said nonchalantly, making my eyebrow raise. "My cousin though... he ruined her until her soul was forced to turn black and hollow."
My skin crawled in chills at her voice, the power of her words behind her eyes, and I knew we were getting somewhere. "Your cousin?"
She nodded. "He was abused and though I wasn't, I think because of that, him and Martin became very good friends. He was here more often than he wasn't, hanging around the house for sometimes days. And he wasn't afraid to hide the enjoyment he took by abusing Clare." Shaking her head in memory of it, she sighed and said sadly. "He use to have this knife... one he would always use on Clare..."
As she spoke, the hairs all over my body stood on end and I felt my stomach flip at her words. A knife... A specific knife he would always use on Clare. Just like she would do to me. She would always use the same one, the same knife to remind me of the how much damage that one specific knife committed. She took that abuse given to her, applied it to my life. Swallowing hard, as Regina continued to speak, I became more astonished by the similarities.
"He was terrible. He use to hold her against the wall or even hanged her from the wall and cut into her, randomly. He told me he loved hearing her scream. I don't think Martin knew how bad it was because my cousin didn't do that type of stuff in front of him but rather in front of me. He would make her do terrible tasks, like shovel the snow without any clothes, make her into a personal slave. Not to mention all the sexual harassment towards her..." she shook her head slowly at the thought. What I hated was it wasn't in sadness but she just seemed... neutral. She didn't care. "He would touch her in front of me... I wouldn't be shocked if she was raped at one point but I don't know. He was crazy, absolutely insane, literally. After doing this for years to her, he was committed to a mental institution - which, I can only guess, is where Clare got the idea to claim you were insane. After he went away, he insisted I continue what he had done to her. And I did, I guess. I mean, I don't count it as actually harming her myself if it was what someone else demanded. It's not like it was my idea.
"Anyway, after years of wondering, and now seeing how you were treated, I can only assume Martin was like all the others before him - just terrible abuse. But unlike all the others, Clare was abused by others in a more twisted way. For enjoyment, like my cousin. He wasn't the only one though either. I knew she would get it bad from a friend of Martin's as well whenever he came over. There were actually a couple people I think..." she said lightly, eyes looking away in thought, as if to come up with the number. As if thinking over something as natural as what she would make for dinner. And at this point, I said fuck it to not judging her. Everything was falling into place, all the reasons as to why she is like that, why worse, and it made me sick just how carelessly she approached such a subject.
I laughed humorlessly and drew her eyes back up to mine. Staring her down, I felt my teeth start to grit automatically. At this point, she was worse than Martin. Sure, he was the one that physically abused her because he was selfish. But she just let it happen and from what I could see, she didn't care. She spoke as if it was a fucking game and she couldn't do anything! Not to mention, she just admitted to harming her - because someone just asked her too! And apparently that made it okay.
"You deserve to be ruined," I said in a low voice and I could feel myself nearly shaking in place. "Just like you let your child be ruined. You sat back and watched like a fucking pointless and pathetic excuse for a mother. Because you were scared!" I screamed and by this point, I was on my feet, yelling down at her who only stared up at me with a calm expression. I saw the shock in her eyes though at my outburst. "Scared! Well, awe go fucking cry in a corner while you let your child get fucked up in the head! No damn excuses but rather the work of nothing but your weak soul that is just as black as Clare's, just as bad if not worse!" Taking a deep breath, I clenched my fists tightly at my side. "How I would love to demonstrate the pain you let me take for years. I should show you how a knife used on me my entire life feels sliding down your skin of what is nothing but a heartless piece of shit!"
I was yelling, my words so fast, she probably didn't catch it as I moved back towards the door and stormed out of the house, slamming the fucking door behind me. Gritting my teeth, my stride picked up as the outside air hit me. I moved down the stupid porch steps and through this dump of a snowy fucking yard towards the road. Fuck!
My nails digging into my palm, teeth gritting together, it was a mystery my bones didn't shatter in such tension as I made my way back to Shannon's car where she was waiting for me. I got what I wanted, I tried telling myself to calm down. But her words rang loud and as clear as can fucking be! I wasn't blaming Clare right now, not Martin, or his family of abusers before him. I was blaming this fucked up woman I didn't want to consider human. She sat back and watched! Watched. And claims she couldn't have done anything about it. Hell, she even did what some dude told her to do - and it's not like he forced her! I get she was scared, she didn't know what to do, but with how carefree she put it while talking to me, she didn't try to even bother! She didn't realize what she started was a whole different kind of abuse by letting her family abuse Clare too in such a sadistic way. She could have tried, done something, and she didn't! She didn't! And now, here I was, with a fucked up life because of her.
***
By the time Shannon got me home, I was still worked up and didn't know what to do to calm down. I was taking deep breaths and tried everything to distract me. Homework sure didn't help. I resorted to breaking my pencil, eating, and listening to music, which I found productive for those of the 'mentally ill.' I enjoyed watching Jack rip apart some blank sheets of paper too I offered him. I know, it's one hell of a way to let my anger out - watch my puppy get angry at some pieces of paper.
Was I happy I got answers? Finally after so long? Of course. I know it was but it took me a bit to calm down after that was all.
By the time Luke got home and made dinner, I calmed down a bit. I wasn't sure why I was so angry. Regina let it all happen, I knew, but it wasn't like it was all entirely her fault. I was just so pissed off... and still am to an extent but after a couple hours, I realized I probably over reacted. In fact, it was stupid what I did. I should have stayed in control because if I had, I probably could have gotten more answers out of her. Thank you, my dear temper. I can always count on you.
I didn't tell Luke yet. I didn't really want to get yelled at at the moment. I would wait and tell him tonight, after dinner and after we all head to bed. Where I could speak with him for however long I needed to because Clare would hopefully be sleeping. Of course, he might be yelling so maybe I should remove him from the house then tell him. I didn't know what to expect from him. I just knew he wouldn't be happy at all.
Until I could talk to him, we had dinner. Luke cooked up something I never heard of before, and something I couldn't pronounce. It was delicious. Despite that, I was preoccupied with my clouding thoughts. The last thing I wanted was Clare's daily questions that were just pointless.
"Albany how was your day?" Clare asked me in a polite tone as always as she did every night.
"Fucking beautiful."
"Luke, yours?" she asked, quickly moving past my predictable answer.
"It went great," he smiled to her sweetly when he looked up at her. But oh, I knew how annoying that same question was getting to him. He wished he could answer her with such sarcasm as I have been.
Despite what was a normal dinner to us, I wouldn't look at Clare. I didn't want to because if I did, I would stare at her in just thought about what I found out today. Even though I came to discover more about why she is the way she is with me, I refused to feel sympathy towards her. I kept telling myself that she had a choice, she didn't have to be this way yet she did. It was just a shame knowing that if she grew up without that abuse, she would have been a loving mother.
When I looked up and caught Luke's eyes though, they would find mine in question. He could tell there was something up and wanted to know why. How? I don't know with him. He just knew stuff when he looked at me, which was very annoying. But he must have notice my eyes refused to near Clare. I wasn't sure really but with eyebrows dipped and those green diamonds trained on me, they wanted to ask what was wrong. He found out a completely different way then intended though.
Clare was sitting at the end of the table, me and Luke sitting across from each other. So when the phone rang as we were eating, Clare got up because she was closest. Oh how I wished I had sat there to get the phone....
Standing up after she put her fork down on her plate, she smiled down to us. Unable to not look at her for the fact that it was unusual to receive calls on the home phone, I watched in curiosity as Clare walked over to the counter and answered it. Everyone always calls one of our cell phones....
"Hello?" she asked into the speaker when she picked it up and pressed it to her ear that was covered by her thick hair, cascading down around her shoulders, just like her mother's. Still supporting her formal clothing from her job as a secretary, she looked over to us in 'apology.' As if she was absent from precious family time at the moment.
But as she stood there and listened for a moment to who it was, that smile dropped. Instantly. She was leaning back against the counter for support as she held the phone to her ear. But just as I was about to go about eating, those lips went flat. Her body went tense, eyes wide, and I noticed she even paled too - all at once. And with those physical features of hers changing so drastically, I felt my insides change as well. As her face twisted up in fear and shock, my insides squirmed in pain at the realization of what this was. Of what I completely forgot was a possibility.
My body wound tight, I could only stare at her with wide eyes and wait, my breath increasing with every silent second. Clare... she just stood there in absolute shock, so still as I saw her jaw slowly drop. She didn't say anything at first. It took her a few breaths to get it together. Then, she quietly spoke, and I hung on for dear life as I watched.
"What do you want?" she asked curtly, quietly, with almost a tone of vulnerable fear.
After she spoke, there was another long stretch of silence. Then, with my heart beating a million miles a minute, I watched in horror as her eyes that were glued on the floor for such a long moment shot straight up and into mine. Those eyes finding mine and not letting go as the person on the other end spoke... I knew who it was. Clare's mother.
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I know it's been too long guys! I am sorry for that but you need to know I have had no time at all. When I did, I dedicated it to writing and that didn't happen much. Hopefully, I will upload sooner than this time.