The Timeline [h.s.]

61.

January 10th, 2018:

Claire had two problems: walking up the steps that separated her from the Prospera's building front door or turning around and walking back to the tube station.

Truth be told, she didn't really have any recollection of how she had gotten there.

She didn't have much recollection of how she had been living the past 10 days of her life, if she had to be truly honest.

She had been going through the motions out of sheer habit, and Theodore had been the driving force behind many of her actions. Knowing that, no matter what, he'd be waiting for her on the other side, or needed her to do many things, made Claire get out of bed, take steps, clean herself, eat and, simply, exist.

Hadn't it been for him, Claire doubted that she would've done much, if anything at all.

Ever since New Year's Eve, since her father had said those things to her, and she had cried so much she had exhausted herself and slept all through the fireworks and the celebrations, Claire had found herself wishing she could be devoid of all emotions.

She had dreamed of waking up and being blessed with the gift of numbness.

It had been quite the opposite, actually. Every part of her ached with a pain so piercing she had feared her bones would crumble to dust the moment she would've dared a single movement. Her mind screamed at her, her eyes were puffy with all the tears she had shed the previous night and there was a heaviness in her heart that seemed permanent.

Anna had tried to ask her what had happened - having gathered that it probably had everything to do with their parents, or their father in particular - but Claire's throat ached, whenever she thought about even trying to share the events of the previous night. So she hadn't. She had also felt new, hot tears threatening to spill, pressing on the back of her eyes, despite the copious amount she had already spilled.

She had avoided her father, of course she had. How could she even think about facing him, knowing that no matter what she did, it'd never be enough? How could she even think about seeing him, knowing that the mere sight of her was enough to disgust him and make him regret the day she was born? How could she even think about going on with her life, knowing that she was just a waste of space, and that the only people who should've loved her unconditionally, couldn't stand the sight of her and thought her a waste of time?

There had been a time in which Claire had thought that the next chapter of her life, the one where she'd show that she was perfectly capable of doing things and make a living for her, that she had a talent and that she was able to succeed in something, would begin starting with the first day of the New Year. A new chapter in which, albeit begrudgingly because he had been proved wrong, her father would've had to admit that she had been right, and that she was onto something. That she knew her place in the world.

Oh, how stupid she had been.

Had she known that nothing would've helped her become the person her parents - her father, mostly - wanted her to be, she would've... What? Stopped doing what she was doing?

She loved acting, she truly did.

But what was the point in doing it, if it would have amounted to a whole lot of nothing?! What was she doing for the world, as her magnificent father had so kindly spat in her face?

What was the point in proving to everyone that she could be good, that she could even become the best, if the one person who was supposed to see, refused to accept it and, instead, found other ways to attack her and remind her that, no matter what, she would never be able to make him love her. See her. Understand her. Respect her. Validate her.