[center] Clara didn't know what to do; what to think—her body was stiff as she stood there, the sound of her own pounding heart suddenly in her ears. It was as if, now that everything was presented before her, the thought of him dying was far from as wonderful as she thought it would be. It felt as if someone had a grip on her lungs and for that moment she couldn't breathe even if she tried. She couldn't feel anything, even as she was moved and sat back down near Ryanair. Everyone's words had sounded as if they were far away, and all she could focus on was how lifeless he already looked as they shifted and prodded at him. 

Shit. The sudden need to run, to get as far away from any of this as she could was so terribly strong. She wanted to pull at the needle that had suddenly been in her arm – she wanted to be out of that room, out of that mansion, and out of each of their lives. She never asked for any of this – [i]he[/i] was the one that did this to her, and now, now [i]he[/i] was the one who had caused her such panic. Every bit of anxiety throughout the years; the worthlessness, the sense that she really was something so easily tossed aside had all come flooding forward in her panic and all she wanted to do was hide from it… She needed a drink, she needed to run – she needed to be far away where she couldn't feel it anymore. 

Clara had done her best throughout the years to try to forget – but no matter how much she drank or indulged in others, the nightmares always found her. He was always there, one way or another, no matter how those bits and pieces, the facts and truths began to dull with time. She didn't want to remember. 

She didn't want to remember how she'd left that night; how she'd run away from home in hopes of starting a new life, somewhere – hell, anywhere where the rules of society did not apply to her. She didn't want to remember how he'd been there- promises drifting on the salty air of the night, carried away by the wind of the ocean. She didn't want to remember how he made her feel like she really did [i]matter[/i]… She didn't want to remember his touch; the fire within her and the yearning for something new… 

And she didn't want to remember how he had taken it all away just as quickly… The horrible pain of everything within her twisting and clenching; the feel of everything being ripped away and the blinding heat and pain that followed… 

She was still when they laid her there, ignorant to the needle that easily drew her own blood from her. She'd only kept her eyes shut tight, willing away the tears that she hardly noticed. She never wanted any of this… [/center]
[@Arista]