Claudia [Open to House Warehouse residents, otherwise works as narrative] Late Tuesday morning, December 18, 2012; Her room at House Warehouse Reflections, trying to pull herself out of this damn haze. PG-13 (dark themes/ideas, also angst/feels!)/Complete
Claudia sat in her bedroom, curtains drawn, door shut, lights off. She had been back in Lawrence for three days now. She had barely been on the network since the first night back. She hadn't left the house, or even her room unless it wasa absolutely necessary. This had caused Myka and Steve to ake shifts sitting with her. Myka sat in a chair quietly, reading and making sure Claudia didn't disappear again; Steve offered all the cuddles humanly possible, which she couldn't really turn down. But she just couldn't find the motivation to do much else right now. She didn't want to talk to anyone. The only person that knew anything right now was Peter. Because he had come to get her and take her to the complex the first night she had arrived and when he had seen her, he know something was wrong. Of course, he had asked, and she couldn't handle it, she just...broke down completely in a giant mess of tears and rushed explanations that probably only half-made sense.
So that's what she did. She ignored the world and locked herself away. That scene, those words, replaying in her head like a record on repeat. She didn't know how to make it stop. She couldn't think straight. She needed a distraction. But what sort of thing could distract you from hearing the most vile thing possible from the man you considered a father figure? The moment after only made it worse. She couldn't think of a distraction that would be effective enough. Texts from Hatter and Elena yesterday had helped for a little while. Peter's texts later in the night turned into a panic attack-induced phone call. Whether he realized it or not, he did help hr calm down. At least some. But those words from Artie still played through her mind when she woke up the next morning.
"I know what I'm doing."
She sighed and pushed herself up into a sitting position on her bed. She had to make herself get up, go do...something. Anything. It didn't even matter what it was, but she'd been laying in this bed for the majority of three days and she couldn't do it any more. A shower. That was something. And it was productive. Two-for-one.
She got up and crossed the room to her dresser, grabbing some fresh clothes before heading to the bathroom to take her shower. Maybe it would actually help pull her out of this a haze. She turned the water on and adjusted the temperature, catching a glance of herself in the mirror.
"Saving Artie from all of you."
The face in the mirror was one she barely recognized. Sure, it was her, but it wasn't her. Her face was paler than usual, with dark circles lining under her eyes, which lacked the usual light in them. Everything about her in that moment screamed 'broken'. And it was true. That was exactly how she felt. Broken.
The girl in the mirror now looked very much like the girl that thought she was crazy and had checked herself into a psychiatric clinic in an attempt to save herself from delusions. Only...this time, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she had seen, that she had heard, what she had done...none of it was a dream. It wasn't a delusion. It was all real. It had actually happened. And that made it so much worse.
"And you...you're the worst of them."
She squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out the image of her reflection, trying to make her brain stop thinking, to stop hearing those words over and over in her mind. Focus. she told herself. Stop thinking. Relax. She placed her hands on the countertop and let out a particularly long breath, trying to think back and remember those stress relief techniques she had so easily blown off when she was in the psych ward. They could probably do her some good right about now, but her mind was clouded and she still couldn't think straight.
A few moments and added aggitation later, she let out a frustrated sigh and opened her eyes, staring at her hands on the counter. She glanced up for a fraction of a second to see her own reflection staring back at her once again. She shook her head and finally slipped into the shower.
"You're an insolent, annoying child who only wants everyone to love her."
He wasn't wrong, not really. She was often rather child-like in her need for attention, her esparation for acceptance, for love. Her parents had been ripped away from her. She was so young, she didn't really remember the details so clearly, just that they were there, and then they were gone, and Joshua was all she had for the majority of her time growing up. He was her rock. The one person in her life should could always count on to be there.
And then he was taken from her too. She didn't even know what had happened to him for the longest time. She, like so many others, was simply led to believe that he'd died in an experiment gone wrong. It was hard to accept, but easy to believe. She didn't want to face the fact that she was alone in he world, but she knew that he had been working with some pretty amazing things. She didn't know what exactly, he couldn't tell her, but that fact alone told her more than it concealed.
And then there was the blame she'd placed on Artie for her brothers death for so long Artie, the man who she forced to help her bring her brother back from the alternate dimension limbo he'd been stuck in for so many yars. Artie, the man who had offered her a job in lieu of killing her because of the secrets she could so easily expose if he let her go. Artie, the man who had been there for her more times than she could count. Artie, the man she saw as her father within the Warehouse.
"Here's the truth: Artie doesn't love you."
The water had long-since gone cold, but Claudia hadn't noticed. She was sitting in the tub, water raining down on top of her and tears rolling down her cheeks. What if it was true? Anger brough out people's true feelings and thoughts, didn't it? So who was to say that everything Artie-but-not had said weren't his true thoughts? Was there any way to confirm it one way or the other? With the evil in him, he may be led to say things that he didn't believe; without it, he may be more inclined to lie to save face and spare feelings. Maybe she would never know, not really. And now there would forever be the sinking feeling of doubt in the back of her mind that maybe it wasn't real after all. Maybe it was all a lie in the end.
"You've ruined his life."
Finally, after what felt like ages, she registered the ice-cold water on her back, realized she was shivering, and turned off the water. She slowly stood up, dried off, and re-dressed. She paused for a moment, taking one last look in the mirror. She didn't know what was truth anymore, and to think that all of this time she'd been living under the veil of a lie? That scared her more than anything.