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Being Her

A series of one-shots in Claire's perspective throughout the series For Her.

Um, will not go in any order. they come as i get bored enough to write them. PSSSTTT if you want a new story, go review with her!

18. Sweet Possesion

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I am alone.

It is my very worst nightmare.

I have been through worse one would think loneliness would not be so bad in comparison one would think I would like it even like being in a place where no one is with me where no one can hurt me a place free of enemies a place free of fear

But you see it isn’t there is nothing to fear but there is nothing to love it is empty and I am alone all alone

I have never truly been alone, except when I am with him

I used to run into the woods on the days when I thought I could stand it, used to put off the pain (though I knew it would be worse when I returned, I could change the time of my suffering and that was enough to have some bit of control) I used to sit there, with no one else

But I was not alone

I had the music of the wind and the birds and the sunlight I had the brightness of those rays and the rustling of the trees and my own peace

I was not alone

And then I would go “home” and be greeted with a fist or a kiss and I would close my eyes and endure the loneliness

But this dream… it is a dream, isn’t it?


It is reality. Maybe. Probably, because the world is cruel and empty for me and this is hate come to life

Yes, this is what is real, I must forget my short days outside this empty world, without my mounting pain

This and only this is the agony they call life

“Hello, little Claire,” he greets me, his eyes gleaming with wisdom and cruelty, sharp like a knife

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, and close my eyes for the blow that comes, as I knew it would- I catch my own mistakes before he ever does

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses.

“I won’t,” I swear.

“If I were your father, this wouldn’t be allowed,” he says, moving toward me.

I whimper in fear, and another voice invades my loneliness, comforts me, till I’m not alone.

“Claire,” says Quil. I look around for him, but he is no part of this dream. It is the real Quil, in the real world, who comforts me, and I am so glad of that, that he is here, that that confirms this is not real, this is a lie that this isn’t my life

it’s just a dream

He advances toward me again, and I smile at him


And run

And run

And he doesn’t follow.

He doesn’t chase me with hands open creeping toward me waiting to strike. He doesn’t scream and come after me.

I run away to Quil, because now I know I am safe

My dream fades

I see the colors of this nightmare world slur together

They create a spiraling rainbow that blurs and changes into one big mush of color, a tunnel that surrounds me the whole world a part of it

And darkness weaves in, black another of the colors that surrounds me as the tunnel condenses I look back and see him standing there

“Bye, Claire,” he says. “I’ll see you soon.”

My scream catches in my throat, but I don’t release it instead I watch the world slide into nothingness

Into a sleep where I can find peace