Whisper

Chapter 35

Clarise made herself busy just sitting at the kitchen counter, fiddling with her fingers. She knew what to say, what he will say, what is going to happen, yet her nerves were out of control. The eggs churned in her stomach at the anxiety.

Unable to keep twitching and wiggling around she stood and did a lap around the counter, just trying to get her nerves in check. Looking around the room for anything to distract herself she landed on one of the massive family portraits. 

The whole family in all their best clothes, smiling at the camera with big bright smiles. Her father looked just as she remembered, maybe deeper smile lines, but not a hint of regret of sadness in his eyes. Though in the back of his mind was his first daughter. The one he left behind. 

Unlike the others, Clarise's parent had the option to visit her and stay in contact, but he never took advantage of that. Instead, out of sight out of mind. 

Almost hypnotized by the photo of this gorgeous family she almost didn't realize that certain someone come through the garage door. 

He noticed her though, almost thinking it was his step-daughter only to remember that she was going to stay after school for her volleyball practice. "Uh hello?" He squeaked, thinking it was his step-daughter's friend. 

Clarise didn't move at first, gathering all her strength to turn around, her heart in her ears and her eyes cold she look at the man whose complexion just blanched. 

This is a joke right? 

Just one of his daughter's friends that look just like what his late ex-wife looked like when she was young. The splitting image of a younger Charlotte who had a deader and colder gaze. 

"Hello dad." Clarise's voice was deeper than usual and even colder than Frost's powers. Seeing him right here, right now, in the flesh, was more blood boiling than she could ever realize. 

He didn't even realize he dropped his work bag and keys on the floor, just staring at the ghost in his house. As soon as she called him dad, he could see that little girl from over a decade ago. He can't remember what she looked like just before he left her at the facility. He just remembers the feeling of her little watery eyes burning a hopeful hole in the back of his head. Just hoping that he would turn around and give her one last hug. 

"Surprised to see me?" Clarise scoffed, a humorless smile spread across her face as she turned to pick up a nearby photo of the family at the beach with massive smiles on their faces, "You seem to be having a great time without me." 

He didn't know what to say, what to do. Should he call the police? She's obviously an intruder and who knows where his wife is. Should he say hi back? Invite her to stay? Have dinner with her? 

"Don't worry, your precious Heather is fine, just taking a nap over there." Clarise put the picture back, not worried about the fingerprints she left behind, "And you don't have to worry about your other daughters, they won't become freaks like me." 

"I-I," He stuttered, trying to find his words, find anything. 

"So let's get to the point," she brushed her fingers on her clothes like she touched something dirty, "I'll leave you alone for the rest of your life for the simple cash sponsorship." 

"What?" This caught his attention, his fury building up immediately, "Y-You, you break into my home, after all these years, to ask me for money?!" 

Looking him dead in the eyes, she spoke plain and clear, "Yes." 

"H-how, how," he began, "how dare you?!" 

"How dare me?! How dare me?! YOU! You abandoned me when I was 8 years old! You cheated on my mom and abandoned me." She felt her eyes prickle as she began to scream, whatever she foresaw was long forgotten, this was just pure - raw - emotion, "You left me in alone. You left a child who had just watched her mom kill herself all alone with strangers who only cared to exploit me. You tossed me aside like I was just nothing to you, and then you now have the audacity to treat me like a criminal?!" 

This got him to shut up, just staring at this woman. 

She was a lot skinnier than he'd think a woman of her age to be. He could make out her cheek bones and sunken eyes from someone who didn't get good meals or sleep. She was also dressed in what was obviously old clothes that were wrinkly and stained. A simple graphic tee under a flannel that was under an old hoodie, with old ripped jeans and shoes that looked ill fit. 

After a moment of just listening to her heavy breathing he nodded to himself. 

"Clarise I-" He finally peeped, just not sure what else to say to her. 

"I don't go by that anymore," She interrupted, surprising both of them. This was not on the script. "I am Whisper now." 

He didn't know how to react, it was like she just emancipated herself, "So-so how have you been." 

She scoffed, shaking her head and going to walk out, her hand just about to touch the door knob of the front door. 

"How much!" 

His voice stopped her in her tracks. Enough for her to turn and face the man she found herself despising as she grew older and older. 

"H-how much do you want?" 

Soon she emerged out of the house right on time, the others waiting for her across the street in the van that was now fully stocked with enough living supplies for a few more days. 

Her father watched from the window as she entered in the back of the van. It felt like she this was the last time he'll ever see her in person. 

As the van drove out of view, there were so many things he should have said to her. 

He wanted to say he was sorry, that he never forgot about her, that he loves her. But her sudden appearance just made him forget everything he rehearsed in his head, should he ever see his daughter again. 

She was the splitting image of her mother, only hammering the guilt in more. Of course there were some differences between her and her mother: like how Clarise's eyes were slightly more upturn to give her a more villainess look compared to her mother, and her hair was chopped much shorter than Charlotte's. Charlotte loved the look and feel of long hair, even if it was always tangled and things always got caught in it. 

Closing the curtain, he put his hand on the fabric, feeling the thin sheet between his fingers muttering something to himself. 

"I'm sorry." 

All he could hope is that Clarise knew that he was sorry.