Old Windows

I Hate Corn

* Continuing

Claire had washed up and cleaned the blood off her skin and face. She gripped the sides of the cold sink and stared down into it. Watching the red swirl into the drain and become lighter shades of pink as it continued to wash away. She lifted her head and looked into the mirror. Claire wasn't even sure of her own reflection anymore, she was sure of nothing. She noticed her eyes had become that same clouded black that Mort's were. They possessed the same dark circles underneath. Her mouth had become accustomed to a frown and cast in a downwards position. Her cheeks were sunken in and her skin tone had sustained a grayish tinge. She wasn't Claire Brown anymore.

Her eyes were welling up the more she looked back on all the memories of when she first moved here. Before she moved here, and before she was even born. Anything before this point in time was the Claire she missed dearly. And she blamed Mort for all of it. Her fingers ran down her protruding cheek bones in shame as she looked upon the person Mort bred out of manipulation and abuse.

Her hands were trembling and could barely hold on to the sink any longer. She fell to the floor of the bathroom and curled into a fetal position, letting the hot tears fall on by one. They pooled around the side of her face and she felt like she was spiraling into a void of emptiness and despair that had no way out.

The sound of Mort's cough traveled up the stairs and pierced her ears. The sound was a sound that meant death and made Claire's insides bleed internally. She dispiritedly managed to lift one of her eyelids open. All she could see was the hair in her face and part of the door, all blurry from the tears.

She slammed her hand on the ground and hoisted herself from the ground and pushed her hair back. As soon as Claire got the most grip of herself that was permissible, she headed back down the stairs.

Mort didn't get up when he heard the bedroom door open and the creak of the stairs. He was facing towards the front door and intended to stay that way. She walked into the kitchen and could see just the top of his head from the counter.

"Mort?" Claire whispered.

"Yes?"

"What exactly do you expect me to do with the cars?"

He didn't answer for a while, he was thinking. Planning; conspiring. That's at least what Claire hoped he was doing.

"I don't f*cking know," he spat.

Her breath was launched into a state where she had never felt such hatred for somebody before.

"Fine," she growled as she slammed the front door, walking outside.

Her mind was in too much turmoil to think of any solutions, to think of anything. She looked around the estate and found a shovel on the side of the house, near where a backyard would be. Claire grabbed a sturdy hold of it and walked on her way to the scene. It began raining on her way there again, but she didn't care. Her mind was so numb she could barely feel the rain trickling down her hair and into her eyes. A feeling she used to relish, was now a pleasure of the past that Mort had also ruined for her.

Eventually she came upon the cars and her breath left her chest. She didn't know she could feel anymore emotions but to her surprise, she unfortunately did. There was no time to be wasted and she began. Claire began destroying the cars until they were unrecognizable. From the first bash to the second strike, she could hear Mort's voice over and over again. Remembering more and more words and actions he had done. What was once an act of saving their own reputations was now personal. She put her soul and indignation into every hit of the shovel. Crying out in anguish and cursing his name. She didn't care if anyone heard, this was her own relief. No door handle was left on, no glass was left intact, no seat was left unripped; especially on his car. She walked to the back of his car and noticed the license plate was gone, and she knew he had probably taken it. She had repulsion at his thought process. In the midst of a fatal car accident, he conjured up enough strength to take off his own plate.

It seemed like 5 minutes when in reality she had been out there for an hour. The sun was in a different position and she was completely drenched from head to toe. The cars had now looked like piles of carnage from a dump. Had the tires not been there, you wouldn't even know they were cars.

No smile made its way to her lips, no expression or emotion had even crossed her mind was she was finished. She stood there, out of breath, shovel in hand, looking upon what destruction she had done. That she didn't even know she was capable of.

With a deep inhale and exhale she walked back, dragging her shovel against the pavement. Resulting in the most ear-wrenching sound, but it sounded like white noise to her.

She walked back into his house, and there he was. Still in the same position as last time. He had fallen asleep. She took a quick survey and couldn't see the plate anywhere, all she found was that cursed laptop on the counter. But once her eyes fell on Mort, she knew he had to be stashing it on himself. 'Disgusting freak' she thought to herself. Cautiously, she walked over and saw a small section of metal spilling out of his jacket. She seethed with rage as she looked at him in his most vulnerable state, knowing how easily she could end him right there on his own couch. She had to clench her fists and walk away, back to the door so he wouldn't think she had seen what he was hiding.

Claire threw down the shovel, letting the metal clash with the wooden floors. The sound stunned him awake and he sat up with a wail, forgetting he wasn't able to move his body that quickly.

"What the f*ck Claire?" he hissed.

She had nothing to say to him. She stood dripping on the floor and her hair was matted onto her face.

"Where'd you go with the shovel?" he asked.

"Destroyed the cars. I covered your tracks for you. Mort," she let his name hum at the end. She knelt down to find something in the fridge.

He didn't know what else to say but he watched her from the couch. He was weary now of what she did. She stretched her legs to stand up and closed the fridge door carefully.

"I hate corn," she muttered as she went back upstairs.

He listened for the stair creaks to get quieter until he heard the door close. But, now he found himself unable to do anything. Not that he expected Claire to help him in any sort of way, but this had become ridiculous.