Chapter 8
Claire
“Shame and pain go hand in hand with some things.”
My eyes feel heavy as I find my way back to consciousness from sleep. All at once, everything hits me from last night. The tears, the embarrassment, the desire to bury myself in the plethora of pillows and cease to exist. Suddenly, a soft hand brushes against my back, freezing me in place.
“Breathe, little flower,” she says softly, rubbing gentle circles on my back to soothe me. I focus on inhaling and exhaling slowly, instead of giving in to the panic. My mouth feels dry and disconnected from my brain as I struggle to compile a reply to her.
“You stayed,” I finally utter, unable to find more eloquent words in the web of my foggy brain. A moment of pause hangs between us as time slows to a near stop.
“You asked me to,” she utters, her voice empty of emotion as she puts physical distance between us.
Each inch feels like a dagger being shoved in my chest. I sigh involuntarily, afraid to find her eyes and see the same disappointment that I have seen so many times before.
Great. Just another person to let down. This beautiful woman gets to see all my broken pieces and just how damaged this princess is.
Fear grips my stomach full force, as I wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to combat the nausea.
As the inches continue to grow between us, I feel the weight of the silence pulling me under.
Tears blur my vision in silence. She pulls the sheet and bedding back into place and straightens the pillows as I feel myself slip into the void of darkness.
My knees fold in closer to my body as I try to hold it together.
“Flower?” she asks, uncertainty lacing her voice as she climbs onto the made side of the bed.
I try to find the strength to answer her.
When words fail me, I find her eyes and let her see just how broken I am.
Suddenly, she is pulling me into her arms, conveying every comfort that I need, breaking the dam of emotions.
Sobs rack my chest as the waves of fear and grief hit me all at once, uncontrollably.
“Shh…Weep for me, little flower. I will be here to hold you through it,” she soothes while rocking me in her lap, uttering the words to knock down the walls that I have stored my pain behind.
The tears are freely flowing down my face with no end in sight as I drown in all of the emotions.
My heart breaks, again and again, each loss relived, ripping me to shreds from the inside out.
Fuck it. I let go and fall apart in her lap.
Losing myself in the pain, time passes in a blur.
“If you don’t feel done, keep going. You deserve to let go right now,” she tells me, bringing me back to the room after what could have been hours or minutes of unleashed emotional trauma to eyes that have no tears left to shed.
I blink, feeling the tenderness of my under eyes and searching for her eyes.
Her hand cups my cheek as I look into the depths of her blue irises, searching for any judgment or disappointment, and instead, I find pity.
I reach around her to the end table, pulling the gun into my hand and putting the barrel under my chin as I back away to the wall.
“Claire,” she says as she climbs off the bed. Her steps are measured, and her eyes refuse to leave mine.
“No,” I say, voice quivering, shattered beyond all belief as I shake my head, the tip of the gun firmly under my chin.
This cannot keep going. I left. All I wanted was to leave the baggage behind, and it followed me here.
There is no happiness for me. I will never know peace from my family name.
Losing everyone that I have ever loved, I can’t do it anymore.
“What do you want?” she asks me, catching me off guard, taking a careful step towards me. My brain stops spiraling momentarily. A maniacal laugh leaves my mouth as I try to find any words to encompass what I truly want. I want for one happy moment in my life to work out.
“I want all of this to end,” I say, defeated as I close my eyes. I don’t want to see her eyes reflecting the sadness in my soul as my last thing on earth. Instead, I think about the happy moments in my life as I steady myself to pull the trigger.
The sound of my mom singing me to sleep flutters through my head.
We used to discuss my dreams over Earl Grey tea in the morning together.
Transitioning to Bella, and the way she looked at me while she told me that she loved me for the first time.
While I might not have understood the words in Dutch at the time, I could feel them.
Within weeks, we shared a bed together for the first time while my father was away on business.
Even all of these years later, I will never forget how she tasted.
The warmth of every deep hug that Romeo gave me when no one was watching. He may never know how I felt about him.
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, and then I feel her try to pull the gun away. I pull the gun back, wanting this to be over, when all of a sudden the gun goes off.