Souls Through Time (EzioxOC/DesmondxOC)

Chapter 27 - Claire

September 8th, 2012, 8:00 pm

Claire gathered herself and moved toward the bathroom, grabbing her own towel as she tried to shake off the weight of her conversation with Desmond. She needed to clear her head, and a hot shower was the closest she'd get to washing away the tension that clung to her.

The bathroom was small and industrial, with pipes visible along the walls, but the water was warm. She let it run over her, tilting her head back, eyes closed as she felt the heat soothe her muscles. But as the water fell over her, a faint but unmistakable tug at her mind caught her off guard. Her hand pressed to her side instinctively, a place she knew well—a wound she hadn't received but felt all too vividly. The familiar pull, that strange shift in her mind...Amelia.

Opening her eyes, she reached for the towel, and as she wiped the steam from the mirror, she froze.

Her own reflection stared back at her, but for a split second, it wasn't her. The face in the glass was familiar and foreign—a flash of Amelia's dark, determined eyes, her face etched with a fierceness that didn't belong to Claire but felt so eerily close.

It was as if Amelia was standing on the other side of the glass, watching her, challenging her. Panic surged in Claire's chest, her pulse pounding in her ears as she stared at her own reflection. Instinct took over before she could process what she was seeing.

With a sharp intake of breath, she lashed out, her fist colliding with the mirror in a flash of frustration and fear. Glass shattered, shards spraying across the sink, glinting under the dim lights as her hand throbbed, blood welling up from the fresh cuts.

She staggered back, her breathing shallow, her gaze falling to her bleeding knuckles. The pain was grounding, but her heart continued to race, her mind still reeling from the brief, haunting image. She gripped the edge of the sink, feeling the cool ceramic beneath her fingers, forcing herself to focus on the sensation, to bring herself back.

Slowly, the fear ebbed, leaving her standing there, her reflection fractured in the shattered pieces of glass, but unmistakably her own. She closed her eyes, steadying her breath, willing herself to feel in control, to remember where she was, who she was.

After a few long moments, she looked back at the broken mirror, her reflection scattered into fragments that somehow seemed to match the fractured memories inside her.

Claire took a shaky breath, her gaze lingering on the small cuts along her knuckles, the blood trickling down her hand. She grabbed a hand towel and pressed it against her knuckles, the soft cloth quickly darkening with the bloom of red. She focused on the rhythm of her breathing, grounding herself, pushing back against the remnants of Amelia's presence that clung to the edges of her mind.

A soft knock broke the silence, and she tensed, quickly glancing at the closed door.

"Claire? You alright in there?" Desmond's voice was muffled but carried a thread of concern that was unmistakable.

For a moment, she considered brushing him off, but she knew she couldn't hide the shattered mirror or the bleeding cuts forever. She tightened the towel around herself, pressing her injured hand against the fabric to keep it from bleeding more. With her other hand, she reached for the doorknob and pulled it open.

Desmond's eyes widened slightly as he took in her appearance—wrapped in a towel, hair damp, with the hint of blood soaking through the fabric wrapped around her knuckles. His gaze shifted briefly to the broken mirror behind her, his brow furrowing in concern.

"I, uh... need the first aid kit," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. She met his gaze, challenging him to question her.

Desmond didn't press, though his eyes lingered on her hand a second longer than necessary. "Right. I'll grab it for you."