Across From Me

Sixteen

Clementine had an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach. At first, she had no idea what it was, but gradually she realized it was horror.

It was the type of hurt that started in the chest and spreads outwards into all other limbs of your body. Like physical pain, as it made its way through her body. The realization of what happened to her hit her like a truck.

I should have known this would happen, Clementine thought distantly.

The presence of Elizabeth was lost on her. She was too busy looking at her destroyed artwork that she spent days perfecting each one to her liking. She tried so hard to make something she would be proud of, and even then before they were destroyed, there was an incomplete feeling about it. But now, they were gone, torn to shreds, and that feeling from before intensified knowing it would never even be judged.

Clementine slowly shut the bag. She noticed the others around her, their artwork neatly hung up at each other's stations. Clem saw that each and every one of them was so different, unique, and gorgeous. Even those who may have lacked in skill made up for heart.

It felt like unreality, the knowledge she wouldn't even get the chance to put up her artwork like the other kids. There just would be no chance of that happening now. All of them were so destroyed she couldn't put them up and have it be a fantastical metaphor moment and would win first place. That only happened in movies.

Clementine would have to go home. She had no idea how she was going to explain this to her mother, She definitely wouldn't tell her the truth. Her mom wouldn't get it really, she would just get mad. And when she got mad Clementine was scared, and Clementine was tired of being scared. She was tired of being lonely. She was tired of the same old thing.

Clementine and her mom never got along well. Ever since she was young, Clementine just seemed like the child she disliked the most. Her mom claimed to never have a favorite, but Clementine and her sister had no photos of them as babies, hell, she was barely there in the photo albums. But Clementine never realized this because she simply was too busy arguing with her.

It was the same thing almost every time. Some sort of attitude problem. Her mom would claim she was selfish because she didn't want to do things that were her mother's job to do. Her mom never seemed to understand why Clementine just flat-out refused at times. The truth was Clem was juggling her school work, her image around others, and her appearance.

Yeah, her appearance, her mom wasn't nice about that too.

Clementine had been walking in a daze, out of the room and down the hallway of the school. She hadn't noticed Beth trying desperately to get her attention. She seemed panicked, she was trying really hard to get Clementine to focus on her.

And Clementine felt somewhat calm for a moment. But then everything else started crashing through when she met Beth's eyes. The anger, the blinding rage. Someone hurt her intentionally and purposely ruined her paintings to make her feel small. Clementine felt so angry and so frustrated. She felt like crying.

And like that, she deflated. She felt all the energy inside of her seep out. She leaned against Beth for comfort, for stability. It was strange to do so. She hadn't felt like she could do that with anyone in a long, long time. But nevertheless, Beth caught her and held her, it made her feel like she wasn't weird.

"What did I do wrong?" She whispered, wrapping her hands around Beth's waist. She was distracted for a moment at how firm Beth seemed. She was quite short compared to Beth. But Beth was just freakishly tall. Clementine was about the average height for her age.

Beth stroked her head lightly, pushing her hair back, "You didn't do anything," She replied in a low, comforting voice. Clementine felt herself hug tighter onto her. Beth rubbed her back.