Chapter 7 Clara
Clara learned the cost of high expectations at a young age. The world didn’t care how hard she worked, or how desperate she was for a certain outcome. No, the world spun the same way it always had and expectations were only good for creating disappointment.
By the time she trained as a Viper, Clara had lost all expectation of the world.
Her only expectation was of herself. To survive and become the best. She worked hard, knowing that eventually the work would pay off, and having this gut feeling that her life would change.
She had to admit, she was right on one part.
Her hard work did, in fact, change her life.
But the way it changed her life felt like a cruel joke in comparison to what she secretly wanted.
Now, she wanted to remain as far away from Carver as she could.
It wasn’t a rule, but subconsciously it became one.
The second the door slid closed, she moved towards the back of the car, grabbed a blanket, and climbed on top of one of the boxes.
She wouldn’t admit it, but in the moment he stood there, she replayed the interactions from the night before.
Including the split second she considered embracing him. A bad idea, of course–possibly the worst.
When he stumbled as the train lurched, she covered her mouth to avoid laughing. He didn’t look up at her, so she allowed the smile to remain another minute, enjoying the thought of how things could have been.
Then it hit her. Things could have been different.
They could have gone on this assignment together, as true partners in crime.
They would have climbed their ranks, still gotten married, and eventually been here, but so much better.
Stronger together. But they weren’t. They weren’t. Because of the choice Carver had made.
She hated him for it. He decided and she could do nothing except pick up the shattered pieces.
He broke the silence first, “We’re stuck here for the next two days. We should try to converse or at least be civil.”
“Wasn’t in the rules.” She bit back.
He rolled his shoulders to relieve tension, and the muscles rippled under his thin shirt.
He had already shed his jacket, and truthfully, Clara wished his jacket had remained on.
It wasn’t fair that his well defined physique was clearly visible through his clothing.
Damn, maybe that should’ve been a rule, she thought salaciously.
“It’s not against the rules either. And we did agree that we would have to figure out how to trust each other for the sake of the assignment.”
“Fair,” she conceded. She wanted to talk to him.
Well, truthfully, she wanted to yell at him.
She wanted him to know exactly how much he’d hurt her.
She wanted him to know that he made the last three years of her life hell.
She became reckless, blaming him for half the scars scattered across her body.
Simultaneously, she wanted him to believe that he didn’t have an effect on her, that with or without him she would have become this strong. He didn’t get to hurt her.
“What do you want to talk about?” She deadpanned, giving him all the freedom to begin.
“What was your favorite part of training to be a Viper?” The question caught her off guard, and for once she didn’t have a snarky remark.
She combed through the memories as they rushed by in a blur.
The training, the blood on her hands, her body, the hollow eyes of those she had killed, the fear, the rush, the adrenaline.
Nope, none of that. She could say any one of those, but none of those things were her favorite. She could at least answer him honestly.
“My trainer hated me from day one. He forced me to go harder than anyone else. He wanted me to break; he actually told me he was trying to break me. A team is only as strong as its weakest unit, and he was absolutely convinced I was the weakest unit.
One day about three months in I finally won a fight.
The other girl was bigger, and everyone thought she would destroy me.
But I was faster. So fast that I took the advantage, and she had to be helped to the healing room.
” Clara smiled at that, “A strange thing to be proud of, I know. But it was the first time my trainer looked at me with anything other than derision. The next day, he told me he was wrong about me and he was proud of how seriously I was taking training. Everything changed after that moment.”
She didn’t tell Carver that she’d felt capable–the first time she’d actually felt strong because she was strong.
No outside force had helped her. She had done it herself, and there was a confidence that came with that capability.
She didn’t think Carver could understand that.
He had always been strong. He had always been so brilliantly perfect in every discipline.
School, basic training, making friends. He was always everyone’s favorite.
It felt nice to be on her own and be someone’s favorite.
He didn’t respond for several minutes, and she couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking. Would he mock her for her favorite memory?
“I’m proud of you, Clara.” He replied softly.
She clenched her teeth instinctively, feeling like he’d hit her. “You don’t get to say that to me.”
He nodded, agreeing, and it fueled her anger.
She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream.
She wanted to yell and say all the things she said to him in her dreams. “You don’t get to say that to me,” she repeated more harshly.
“You don’t get to pretend we’re okay and you’re my friend now.
” She chose her words carefully, but allowed her tone to stay as angry as she felt.
She wouldn’t be the one to break the rules.
“We’re on an assignment. We’re working together.
That’s it.” She felt her heart break as she said the words; she forced her voice to stay strong and not do the same.
“You’re right.” He admitted, sounding tired. “I’m sorry.”
She wouldn’t accept his apology. Wouldn’t give him that courtesy. Instead, she wrapped her blanket around her shoulders and pressed herself further into the corner on the crates. She was done talking to him.