Clara looked at the newspapers, and she saw the headline of a gruesome murder. She raised one of her eyebrows and laughed for a second or two,
"They wouldn't understand." She whispered to herself
She placed down the newspaper to look at the revolver laying on the bed in a shady motel with only one window to shine on her, and she opened it to count the bullets in the cylinder.
"One, two, three…"
Two bullets were missing in the cylinder; she forgot that that one bullet was stuck in Richard's head and the other she couldn't quite remember. Clara still remembered the warm, crimson blood staining her face, his eyes drooping, and his mouth falling. The memory stirs her enough to grab a cigarette and light it; she has only done it once in her life, but she has never expected to smoke three days consecutively to throw off the edge. She took a huff of her cigarette and took in the smoke. It numbs her a little, but the smoke reminds her of the smell of gunpowder.
The room had cracks and it, like veins stretching from everywhere, and the room a dark unsettling quality that would make anyone feel uncomfortable. The light coming from the window was grey, like the loud static coming from the tv.
Clara's eyes wavered, her body weakened like boiling noodles, her thoughts then blur as days of insomnia appear to take a toll on her. She wandered to her bed, landing her body straight up; she felt her body sink into the darkness where she lay, her limbs numbing. One thing was strange though, her eyes didn't close and she could think, but she couldn't move her body.
She could hear something ticking, Clara didn't know if it was a loud clock, or something else going
Tick Tock
Then she felt something crawling up her legs, creeping up, Clara tries to stand up but can't, and Clara's eyes widen as she feels the thing reach her waist.
T i c k T o c k
At the edge of her sight, she can see a snowy white creature with red shot eyes.
T i c k T o c k
Its body was like a baby, but its head was grotesque and its mouth was sewn shut. Its skin looked like leather instead of anything she has seen, and it looked directly at her eyes.
T i c k T o c k
She screamed but couldn't scream; she tried to lunge but couldn't lunge, and the creature reached her chest.
T I c k T o c k
And the sounds kept growing slower and slower, like time was stretching this moment just for her, just for Clara.
Its eyes stared right back and sat on top of her, still maintaining the same contact with its crimson eyes. Clara's chest felt heavy at first, it was a slight weight, but then she felt the creature gain more weight. She was losing breath; she bared the crushing weight, and it still continued to stare at her.
As she was losing breath, her eyes started to waiver as she could feel the cracking in her chest and the breathlessness. Dark spots appear, her senses dwindle, and she feels the chilling edge of darkness again. The creature still looks at her intently as she slowly slips into unconsciousness.
Her eyes widen, lunging forward, screaming. She felt her pulse palpitating; and she started to sweat bullets. She tried to stand for water, but her legs weakened and she fell on the floor. She realized how weak she felt.
It reminded her of Richard, how he made her feel weak and vulnerable. The way he manipulated her to do things, made Clara do things, all just to get a better check and get higher up the ladder. She lowered her head in shame.
She felt her breath grow heavier as she realized the pain in her chest, like needles pricking her lungs every time she breathed in and out. She stood wondering why she felt so weak and why she felt so frail. Clara slowly and painfully walked towards the bathroom where there resides a mirror.
Claras body grew thinner, her bones more exposed, and she lifted her shirt to reveal a large bruise mark on her chest. Her eyes widen, and she walks a couple of steps back.
"The dream." She exclaims as she clenches her jaw.
Tears slowly stream down Claras face as she slowly sinks to the ground, biting her lips until she feels it bleed a little.
Clara then whispers to herself "What the hell is happening to me…"
She stood up again and sat back on the bed feeling defeated, feeling her guilt weigh upon her. As Clara sat on the bed, she touched her stomach and tried to remember the reasons she did this. Clara remembered when she went to Richard's house, she remembers the tears running down her face. Confronting Richard was like putting a gun on your foot and pulling the trigger, but Clara never expected the words "I am pregnant." to be so difficult to say. Humans are capable of many things, but she never realized the extent of what Richard would do to her afterwards: which was to beat her to the ground and kick her on the stomach.
She remembered her blood webbing across her face as she was beaten, hearing each bone in her body screech, crack, and bend as she was being flung and punched.
For a second in that moment, she felt clarity, and she knew what she wanted. Without realizing it, when Richard stared down at her, he expected to see a scarred, frail girl, but Richard saw something different in her eyes. He saw the eyes of someone determined to murder him, and out of fear Richard kicked her in the head, putting her in a coma for two weeks. He threw the body in a garbage bin later and a garbage man found her soon after. She had a long dream about a child as well.
It was happy, filled with sunlight, and she smiled in that dream, which was something very foreign to her. In those dreams, she was back at her grandmother's house, and they made many splendid memories in that place.
She would read to him, different stories and books to make the child go to sleep. She would sleep beside the child and make sure she protected him. She remembered how that dream ended though, like a fiery brand stuck to her.
She remembered the entire dream melting like wax and the child burning like meat sizzling on flames.
She remembered her screams and cries to save him.
Waking up was one of the hardest things Clara had to do. She remembered how sore her body felt; the light shining on her face like lamps close to her face. The reality of what had happened set into her, her child and her home, it was nothing but a happy nightmare. For days she didn't speak about what happened to her. The ones closest to her assumed an assault had happened, but little did they know her rage and imagination started brewing. She thought of all the ways she could exact her revenge, how she could hurt him in a million different ways.
Though she remembered stalking him, making sure he was alone at home and nobody around. She remembered breaking in and knocking him out to make a late-night snack. He conveniently had a basement filled with power supplies that was quiet. She remembered the taste of his screams and the smell of his fear.
Clara always thought that emasculation was the fundamental way to demotivate and disempower a man. The most satisfying part was the smell of his blood, the way it webbed across his body like silk.
To Richard though, Clara became a monster, something that would hunt him in the night, and she could see her delight in the fear she was feeding her.
Hours after hours of pain and misery enacted upon him, Clara realized what she had become. She only wanted to kill him initially, but this was far beyond her plan. Out of guilt and mercy, she quickly shot him once, and the world spun out of her control.
The room caved in on her, the cracks on the wall pumped and pulsed like blood, her body became moist and uncomfortable. Then she heard the clock wringing in her ear like a scream echoing in her mind.
Tick Tock
She looked at the body to see Richard staring into her eyes.
T i c k T o c k
His eyes were bloodshot but she could feel it move at her, starring.
T i c k T o c k
The screams that pleasured her and gave her life, tormented her, ravaged her, and broke her.
T i c k T o c k
Clara collapsed on the floor and broke down, her eyes filling with tears and her screams echoing the room.
T I c k T o c k
She then looked behind her to see the baby, white as snow, its mouth sewn, and its eyes bloodshot red.
"M o m m y ?"
Then Clara finally remembered where the second bullet went.
She used it on herself.
Tick Tock