Chapter 6

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Ok so rq trigger warning for mental health issues because i mean. Wil is def not okay in the head

But i know dark and realistic sort of talk like that is triggering so you have been warned :)

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Clara Afton found herself in the kitchen, pondering on the dinner she should prepare. Her husband would be home any minute, and they always like to cook together so she found herself every evening preparing the recipe before he gets home.

Just then, she heard the muffled jangle of keys and she gave a smile. 'He won't mind,' she thinks. They'll just pick together.

William pushes open the door, and Clara notices something's not right. William's hands are shaking, so much so she can hear the keys rattle; and his expression is haunted and fearful.

"William?" She askes quickly, coming to his side to give him some support. Her hold stopped his wobble, but the expression persisted, now more of a scared look as he made eye contact with his wife. "Clara-" he looked like he was about to cry. "Something awful happened at work."

She gasps quietly and leads him to the closest chair in the dining area. She sits him down, then she herself next to him. She takes his hands and looks him in the eyes. "Tell me, darling. Take as much time as you need."

He trembles and bites his lip, looking away. "Okay. Okay.." he gets that pained look of someone fighting to keep back tears.

"I was in costume, performing for a kids birthday, y'know? Like in one of the party rooms that the parents can rent out?" Clara nods and he continues.

"Well, I was serving the cake. With this long, serrated knife because it was an ice-cream cake." He paused. "I was holding this knife, and when I looked at this sweet little kid-" he chokes. Clara's eyes widen fearfully, filled with worry and strife. "Wil, breathe, sweetie. It's okay, take your time."

He only sobs. "God, Clara! I'm fucked up! I'm a fucking monster!" He cries out, Clara holds him close, "Oh, my love, my darling, please.." she coos, "no, no, baby.." slowly he quiets down, giving a deep inhale.

"When.. when I held that knife and I looked at this smiling little boy.. my brain just screamed at me to stab him. Just.. drive this massive weapon into this little boys chest and kill him. End his life on his happiest day.." he trailed off, wiping his tears and going silent. Clara sat in shock, tears escaping her eyes as well. "Wil-!"

He screamed. He screamed at the the world, at his mind, at everything. He frantically grabbed at his hair and yanked so hard it drew blood. "God I'm so fucking screwed up! A kid! Barely older than my own goddamn son! Fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck!" He cried in fear.

Clara grabbed his wrists with all of her might, snapping him out of the breakdown. "Did you hurt him?!" She yelled, squeezing his arms aggressively. "No! No! As soon as I thought it I ran away and hid!" He cried. "Please stop!"

Clara gasped at her own mannerism and let him go. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated over and over, gently leaning her head onto him. "Im so sorry, you.. you were scaring me."

William was silent. The rational part of his brain returned, and he let out a deep and incredibly shaky sigh. He held his wife close, like if he let go, she'd be gone forever.

Clara looked up and him and took in the sight. He was a deathly pale and his forehead had a drop of his blood running down it. He was sweating and his breathing was unsteady and hesitant. She went back into her own chair again, leaning away from him.

"William, please promise that you will get help. I will help you search. Whatever it takes."

He nodded quickly, a movement filled with meaning and passion. Clara leaned back into him, crying softly. "I love you. I want to keep loving you. Please let me help you." He chokes on his own words, "I love you too. I will."









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Zamn i be projecting holy- anyway this is really bad sorry its really late n i wanted so funny little angst so bada bing bada boom

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