A/N: Dedication goes to LuvDaBooks487. She was truly amazing and, with her inspiring comments or the liklyhood of my wattpad fame, pulled me out of my slump (due to personal famlial reasons) and made me start writing again. I was really thinking about putting this book on hold, but she stopped me.
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CHAPTER FIVE
Revealed and Left Behind
The blinking cursor mocks me today. I told myself that it needed to be done; her story needed to be told. But this is useless.
Tears run down my face as I try to put it all in words.
Words. What an inadequate representation.
I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself.
But if Claire can do it, Claire, who loved her like no other ever could-
…
Except William.
…
I don’t know how to deal with this.
How do I even begin to say what needs to be said?
I never really met her and when I did, she was hidden. When I first saw Roza, I didn’t even acknowledge her.
Maybe that’s why it’s so hard now.
How do you explain something that you don’t really understand yourself?
~Lana Jean Hamric February 21, 2014
After mere minutes, Claire gained an ability over me that had taken Mrs. Bransen months to accomplish.
She’d given me peace.
She’d continued until the two boys came to get her. And, for something that mainly distributed unimportant prattle, her voice was extremely calming. Her ability to go on and on was astounding and yet, perfect in the same moment. In fact, it hadn’t been until they showed up to take her that I’d realized: for the first time in a long while, I’d forgotten. Without reading.
Upon first glance of Matthew Byrn and Jacen West, I’d shrunk away. They were, after all, men. Claire was patient with me, especially after Mrs. Bransen deemed it appropriate to tell her...everything, but it was a long time before I could feel them coming without flinching.
Actually, it took over two months for me to handle even James' presence without stiffening in an instinctual fear. And that was with Claire’s constant reassurances.
Of course, I probably would have still avoided them at all costs, the lot of Claire’s friends, but James lived with Claire and, as time went on and I began to substitute ‘library’ mornings with socializing with Claire, James especially, became an unavoidable constant.
I didn’t say much to Claire when I came, but she, like Josephine, began to see and understand my little quirks and the meanings behind each lift of my face. She took the time to know me and, though she was sometimes careful and cautious, she treated me with respect; gave me this feeling of normality that I had unknowingly hungered for.
I began to believe her. And then, one day, I just did. I believed that she cared. I didn’t know why; I didn’t know how. All I knew was that she did.
