50 Shades Of Claire Bear (Andrew's POV)

Chapter 18

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Hello, everyone. I know I have been AWOL for too many years to count. I'm really just active right now to finish up this book so you all can have Claire and Andrew's points of view ready to read anytime you want.

I probably won't be active aside from this story. I've moved on from Wattpad a little bit (mostly because you have to pay for things now and it's just not the Wattpad I grew to love). In a few years, once some serious editing has been done, I am going to work toward getting the Nanny professionally published. For those of you who have read it and supported me (it's now at 1.3 million reads, which is INSANE), thank you so much.

Anyway, if you're reading this story you probably already read Claire's side, so you know there are only a handful of chapters left. If you haven't read Claire's side, please read it before this so you know the entire story.

If you have issues with Claire's side, please read the Author's Note I just put out. It explains some things. Don't expect me to re-write her side completely—that's a lot of time that I do not have.

This won't be done by the end of the year, unfortunately, but it should be done very soon after 2022 hits.

Thanks for reading and for the support, even while I was AWOL. :)

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Chapter 18

I wake up to complete darkness. I feel like I'm suffocating under my bedsheets, but suffocating is the only thing I can feel right now. Aside from that, I'm numb.

I replay the last few days over and over in my mind. One day Claire and I are close; the next, she hates my guts again. Only, this time, it's worse. Before we spent so much time together, she didn't know who I was. Now, she knows who I am and still hates me.

She's just never going to love me.

I hear a soft knock on my door. It's not worth it to respond, so I bury myself deeper underneath my bedsheets.

"Andrew, honey?" Mom calls, the door creaking open.

"Go away," I grumble.

I feel her sit at the foot of my bed. She wraps her hand around my covered ankle. "Please, get up and eat something."

"No."

She sighs and pulls the sheets off of my face. I cover my eyes from the light.

"Jesus, Mom, why did you do that?"

"I got a call from the school saying you weren't there today." I open one eye. "You know better than to skip school. Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

She isn't going to leave it alone, especially now that I skipped school. I knew it was a bad idea.

"Andrew, you don't have a choice anymore. What is going on—?"

"She doesn't love me, Mom. In fact, she hates me." I sit up in bed, not expecting my head to weigh as much as it does. "Oh, God. My head..."

Mom scoots closer to me. "What do you mean she doesn't love you? Did she say that?"

"Yes. No. Maybe. She definitely isn't acting like she loves me." I hang my head down.

"Why don't you walk me through what happened?"

I don't realize it at first, but it's what I need. I recount what happened in the gym two days ago. It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it. When I finish telling her what happened, I can't hold it in any longer—my vision gets blurry. "Why doesn't she love me, Mom?"