I waited, tapping my feet nervously, as David attempted to create music with Claire's doorbell.
"I'm opening it!" I heard her shout on the other end. "David, if that's you, stop playing with my doorbell!"
David stopped.
"Gosh," she muttered, turning the key in the lock. Her voice faded as it slid open."... Then again, I guess some people are only born with half a brain."
"My brain is perfectly fine, thank you very much," David said, offended.
Claire snickered. "I'm a lawyer, David, not an idiot. And even if I wasn't, I'd still be able to tell that your IQ is lower than a baby kakapo's."
"What on earth is a kakapoo?" he asked, bewildered.
"Not a kakapoo," she stressed. "A kakapo is a type of flightless parrot."
"So it's useless because it can't fly?" he muttered, scratching his head.
"It's useless talking to you," she sighed. "Actually, it doesn't use its brains because it lives in an area that doesn't require it to think very much. There aren't any predators about."
"Oh," he said. "You should've mentioned that the first time around."
She turned her head away from him, muttered something under her breath and turned to me.
The change in her struck me instantly.
It was hard to believe that I'd only seen Claire a day ago. Already, mild dark circles were beginning to form under her eyes and her skin was slightly pale. Partially red eyeballs stared down at me, as she wrapped her dressing gown tighter around herself.
It was the first time I'd seen her in something other than her work clothes.
She looked like she was suffocating, asphyxiating and being smothered completely by a force stronger than a hurricane, stronger than life actually.
Still, I asked, "Are you okay?"
The silence hung heavily for a few moments.
And then, for the first time since I'd woken up, Claire did something completely unexpected.
She awkwardly moved forwards only to push my head into her shoulder blade, where my nose hit her neck roughly. It throbbed for a couple of seconds before going half numb. Her manicured hands subtly tried to smooth out the wisps of hair that had come undone, attempting to make everything perfect, even though it clearly wasn't.
It was definitely a Claire type of hug.
"I know a great hairdresser," she told me, a couple of moments later. "I'm sure we could sort all of this, um, hair out. We don't want you to end up looking like David."
"I look perfectly fine, thank you very much," he huffed for the second time that day. "How many insults are you up to today? Aiming for a new record, are you?"
She rolled her eyes. "Shut up, David."
A wind began to pick up outside, resembling the one that had gathered on the school grounds. It seemed that the dark, gloomy weather intended to follow me for quite some time. It was clinging to me, sinking its claws into my mind and polluting the thoughts there. It was like toxic acid.
"Come in, darling," Claire said, her words growing softer. "It's cold out there."
"You know I'm not a doctor or anything, but I think you might be bipolar," David offered, in all seriousness. "You change moods so quickly. I swear you were angry as heck last night and then you were a sobbing mess and now you're all happy. It's more than scary. It's freaky."
"You're right, David," she muttered. "You're not a doctor."
"I'm not trying to be mean," he began, gently. "It just looks like you're under a lot of stress."
He fixed her with a stare that made him look constipated.
"Actually..." she said, her voice becoming quiet. She fell into step with us. "There have been a few things at work. I didn't mean to take out on, Liv though."
"It's alright," David said, sounding like he was high. "Sharing is caring."
The corners of Claire's mouth twitched. "Sharing is caring? Is that the best you could come up with?"
"So you're in denial -" he said, before realising that his time as psychologist poser had come to an end. "Oh, we're over that."
"Yeah, we are," she said. Then, stopping abruptly, she asked, "Why are you here?"
"This is what I meant about the mood changes," he said under his breath.
"David," she probed, again. "Why are you here? I specifically told you yesterday that it wasn't safe."
"That's exactly why I came here," he said. "I want to know what's going on. Why isn't it safe? This concerns us all, Claire. Is this about Tim? Is he threatening you? Is it blackmail? Is he a mafia leader?"
"You're a very weird person, David. Of all the ridiculous things..." she trailed off. "No, my business partner is not a mafia leader and no, he isn't blackmailing or threatening me. He's just worried about how Laney's death is affecting the firm, especially with Olivia in the middle of all this. It's just working against everyone's nerves and... Well you know how it is."
"I don't believe you," he said, outright. "But I'm not going to question it. You're not very good at hiding secrets, so it'll come out eventually."
The silence invaded a few stolen moments again.
Claire stared at him, looking comically shocked. Her eyes popped open slightly, putting emphasis on the dark circles underneath them. Even her cheeks took on a rosy tint at having been put in negative spotlight.
"Shut up, David," she muttered.
She turned to me, her eyes softening.
David had been right about one thing. Her mood did always seem to be changing and it was hard to keep up. I kept expecting her to break out in an angry rant, like she always did.
But she didn't.
Her mouth remained turned up at the sides. Her skin stayed the same pale pink colour. Her hands swung slowly at her sides, like she was looking for something to do. But she was acting normal.
Everything was okay, for a little while at least.
"It's okay," she said, quietly. "I'm sorting things out, I promise. I just want to make sure you can live life normally, without a tonne of questions being thrown at you."
"Then, why-" I started.
"Then why did I say all those things?" she finished. "I'm a hypocrite and an awful, bitter person sometimes, sweetheart. I say things and do things that I don't mean, because reining in my temper is practically impossible. When I said all those things... about you, I was... upset and angry at others. I wasn't thinking straight."
"But-"
"And I didn't know how else to sort it out, so I kept being bitter and miserable and horrible to you," she continued. "Because the thing is, there are things you don't know and that I don't want you to know. And I thought that if I pushed you away, that if I got rid of you and out of the way, I could sort things out easily."
"I-"
She took a breath. "And I know you have a lot of questions, but I really don't want to answer them at all, because it's annoying. Besides that, you really need to go soon. I have clients to see and things to do and-"
"You're not making any sense at all, Claire," David said. "You're just jumping from one topic to another. I don't know if you're stuck on an apology or an explanation or a bit of both."
"I don't apologise, David," she muttered. "I just make... amends."
"Of course you do," he said. "That's what us normal folks call apologising."
"Are you seriously going to have an argument about apologies?" I asked.
"No, we're not," Claire said. "We're going to move past this."
"Claire-"
"I trust you enough for you to let yourselves out," she said. "Don't forget to lock the door. I've got things to sort out."
"Please-" I managed.
She walked backwards and stroked my cheek. "It's okay, sweetheart."
"No it isn't," I said. "You're hiding something big."
She sighed and began stating facts. "People are very concerned about Laney right now. They're ignoring very important facts and I'm looking into it. I suspect that people who I've learnt to trust over the past few years are working against me, and yes David, one of those people is Tim."
"What? Claire-"
"But there's too many suspicions to count," she continued. "I can't work with just suspicions. I need proof of certain theories and I need Olivia's memory to come back in order to finalise those theories. I don't believe for a second that any of my suspicions are completely right. They've got lots of gaps in them."
"Claire-" David tried again.
"Lock the door on your way out," she repeated. "We don't want anyone getting in. We're fighting a war here."
When we got back home, David slouched upstairs. He presumably slumped on to his bed and went to sleep. I didn't think he would get back up again until he actually needed to.
That left me thinking and that nearly always turned out wrong.
I immediately moved past Claire. She was hard to figure out and it was a two person job. There was no way that I was going to unravel the mystery that was Claire on my own.
So that left me thinking of Red.
I was assuming that it was a 'he'. I mean, Red had said he was coming across as a pervert, so I was taking the stereotypical route here.
Then again, they had said they were a childhood friend, a close one at that. Would I have made friends with just girls at that age? No, I would've stayed with lots of different people.
This was becoming stupider by the minute.
I was beginning to sound like a poser version of a detective. No, scratch that, I already sounded like a phoney detective. It was ridiculous.
So feeling completely deflated, my mind began to take in different points in time and assess them. In other words, I let my subconscious take over as I attempted to get to sleep.
I had woken up in a hospital, with white walls and light blue curtains. It had smelt of lemon floor cleaner and strawberry hand sanitizer. There was a nurse who had been afraid of germs, so she had used gloves to handle me. They had smelt of strong antiseptic.
The doctor had come in repetitively. He'd talked to the nurse, who used to hide little envelopes in the front pocket of her white dress. She brought them out and left them on the bedside table as soon as he left.
She hadn't written them, she'd explained.
Someone called 'Red' had.
She didn't know what they meant. It could've been red for danger, for a warning.
Each letter was interconnected, urging me to find something.
"Remember," she'd whispered, for the last time, before they got rid of her.
Claire would sue the hospital, they had muttered. The nurse had to leave of her own will before something big surrounded the hospital. They didn't need any trouble.
I shot up and ran for the stairs.
"David!" I shouted, gasping for breath. "We... have to go... to the hospital."
He rubbed his eyes groggily. "Why?"
"Because I-"
What could I say?
This creep called Red has been sending me letters. He or she may or may not have been my childhood friend. I mean, they seem to know Claire just fine and I don't know if I should believe them.
But let's forget all that, I think I might have a link to the nurse who gave me the letters in the first place. The hospital was just trying to hide everything so Claire didn't start a fight.
I just need to get there right away, so I can talk to Doctor Barnes and figure some stuff out. Don't come in when I'm talking though. I want to keep this a secret, so you don't take my letters away. I need them, because there's too much else being hidden from me, even if Red is just sprouting is all lies.
"Liv, you zoned out," David said, clicking his fingers in front of my face. "Why did you want to go to the hospital?"
"I want to talk to Doctor Barnes," I said, truthfully.
"Why?"
I lied through my teeth. "I want to know some more about my condition. Claire said it would help, so I want to get started as soon as possible."
David scratched his head. "Does it have to be now though? I mean, don't you want to get some rest or something?"
"Don't you have work?" I fired back.
"Well, yeah, I do," he muttered. "I was hoping to get some shuteye before I got there though."
I nodded. "Can- Can I go myself?"
"No!" he said, shooting up. "It's not safe. I'll take you there. Just let me just get my keys."
"Okay," I said, quietly. "I'll wait by the door."
"Yeah, we're looking for a Doctor Barnes," David told the receptionist. "He's this kind of old, scruffy bloke. His eyebrows look like lopsided bread crusts."
"I know who he is, Mr Anderson," she said, snottily. "But he's a very busy man. He's not here at the moment."
"He's over there," I said, finding him in a crowd of people.
"Right," David muttered, determinedly. "Let's go get him."
"Excuse me, sir, you can't just-"
"Barnes!" David barked. "I have a bone to pick with you."
Doctor Barnes looked startled. "Mr... Anderson?" he asked, hesitantly.
"Yeah, that's me," David said, cheerfully. "Sorry about that. I just wanted to get your attention."
"Oh-" the doctor said, clearly freaked out.
"You know you should really get a new receptionist," David continued, calmly. "She's completely useless and a liar."
"Oh, I'll definitely look into it," he said, sounding anything but serious. "Is there something you needed?"
"Yeah, actually," David replied. "My daughter wanted to talk to you about something. I was hoping you had a minute. I'm sorry to just come in here like this."
"That's fine. I have a few moments to spare, but not long I'm afraid," the doctor laughed. "This life is really tough."
David nodded, looked at me and walked away when I gave him the sign.
It had been quite easy to talk David into letting me speak in private. He didn't want to damage "progress" as he'd called it.
"So what can I do for you, Miss Anderson?" the doctor asked.
"Who's Red?" I interrogated.
He stilled, giving away certain nervousness. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You let a nurse give me letters when I stayed here," I stated. "You got rid of her when the others found out, because Claire would've caused something. You didn't want the hospital to be painted in a negative light."
"Miss Anderson, I've got somewhere to be," he said. "I don't have time for this."
"What if I told Claire all of this now?" I questioned. "What would you do if all of the reporters that have been bothering me all this time came over here to ruin your lives?"
"Miss Anderson, you're not in your senses right now-"
"I'm completely in my senses, thank you very much," I nearly shouted, beyond angry now. "What are you hiding from me?"
A dark look took over his face. "If you don't want me to reveal that you've kept these letters all this time, I'd suggest you keep quiet. You'll lose everything if I go out and tell your father all of what's been going on."
My hands shook.
I took a deep breath.
"I don't believe you," I said.
He smirked.
And because I didn't believe him and because he was an awful human being, I refused to be a victim of his web of lies. He would use the letters against me in order to hide the truth.
The only way forwards was to make sacrifices.
So I did.
A/N: This definitely hasn't been edited and I'm half asleep, so none of this chapter will make any sense. After NaNoWriMo, I'll come back and sort it out. I promise.