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Being Her

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


Notes:
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!


4. Utter Emptiness

Rating 5/5   Word Count 538   Review this Chapter

No. No. No.

No. Not again. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.

He turned. And he took two steps toward the couch where I sat.

I gasped, terrified. Again, I had allowed thought to escape. I couldn’t be afraid. It wasn’t acceptable. Because he knew it, when I was afraid. He could smell the terror on me. And the consequence always came. There was nothing I could do.

There was one way to prevent it. If I felt nothing, he would be unable to hurt me. If I was nothing, I could not be lower. I could not be hurt… not even by him. If I didn’t exist, he couldn’t bring me any lower.

I had to do it. I had to figure out how I could be invisible to him… and I didn’t know how, not really.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I exchanged the other for that word. Nothing. Nothing. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

He turned away from me and back to his newspaper. I stared at the blank wall as though my very life depended upon it. There was nothing in the universe but it. It was the only way I could be safe, if I looked, very hard, straight ahead.

Yes, that would work. If I didn’t deviate from the path, he couldn’t find a way on.

I looked at the wall. There was nothing at all on it, but it was more than enough to keep me busy. I had to stop myself from thinking, to look right ahead, straight at the wall…

And then it would all be fine. Yes, it was working. He didn’t notice me. He didn’t come near me. He didn’t try anything… he just flipped through the newspaper.

He stood and went to bed. I didn’t dare move. Instead, I napped immobile on the couch, waiting still for consequence to come.

Hours passed. Nothing happened. I grew very hungry. Silently, stealthily, I crept toward the refrigerator, opening the door in a single smooth motion.

Nothing happened.

He didn’t wake.

In the morning he came downstairs and didn’t look twice at me. He opened the same newspaper, peering through the pages, eating some cereal. I didn’t breathe the entire time, until suddenly the fear couldn’t hold back the physical need. I exhaled as silently as possible.

No. Oh, no, oh no… I saw his eyes turn.

He stood. My heart stopped, until I realized what was truly happening. He stood, and didn’t walk toward me. He just left, presumably to go to work, without even noticing me.

I breathed for the first time in a year. I was safe. Maybe briefly, maybe forever… I shouldn’t hope for that, but I was still only a child. He hadn’t yet crushed all the hope.

No, that happened that evening, while I sat perfectly still staring into nothingness. I didn’t even see him come in, so intrigued was I in the bland wall.

I didn’t know he was there until I felt his breath on my ear, hot and wet and foul.

“Hello, Claire. Miss me?”