She stood helpless at the side of the room and watched as she always did. It was the only way for it to end, to endure it, to get through it. The nasty smell in the air permeated into her throat, making its way to her tongue, presenting a sickening taste in her mouth as the images surrounding her began to flourish into focus. Imminent death tore through her veins.
Claire observed the pretty young girl who sat on the couch. Her mascara was smeared against the wet skin below her eyes. She was drunk. Picking up the phone, the girl dialed, but her sloppy coordination slowed her down. It seemed an eternity before she spoke into the receiver. “Where are you? Damn it. I need to talk to you. I can’t take it anymore. Pleas…” The phone slipped out of her hand. She crossed her arms around her ribs and began rocking her body. “I’m sorry, please know that I’m sorry.”
The girl stood, she walked slowly toward the door, picking up her bag from the table. Turning to look at the room one last time, her lips trembled. In a slur, she announced to the emptiness that had held her captive, “I must do this. Everything’s going to be better soon.” Then she looked directly at Claire and said, “Do something about this. Be strong and use your life to stop all this.” She took a deep breath and exited her personal chamber of hell.
Claire shuddered, a sudden jolt stung her insides. My God, she knows I’m here. My God, she knows. She closed her eyes and tears spilled down her face. Did she see me? Did she really speak to me? Hope radiated from within, but when she opened her eyes, she was in the back seat of the girl’s car. “Don’t do this, Trista. Hear me, just don’t do this.” Claire knew it was of no use, but had to try. She choked on her words, desperation in her voice, “Please. Hear me!” She reached over the seat to touch the young woman, but the car seemed to stretch to the length of a limousine, leaving her range far from the woman. She put her head down and screamed, “NO. Please!”
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