Claire was an orphan who lived on the streets and refused to live in a foster home. She was soon stopped by a certain Youtuber who granted her a chance at a friend or maybe even a father.
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Claire groaned slightly as she pulled off the bandages off of her leg. The wound burned like hell, but she wanted to see it. Too see the damage that she had created. The gash was wide and deep, almost too the point of showing the bone. She cringed, wondering how her nails would have felt on her femer. The wound had stoped bleeding but was crusted over with the red-brown substance. Claire rewrapped the wound quickly and got off of the bed gingerly. A twinge of pain ran up her legs and she hissed at the pain before taking small steps into the hallway. She made her way downstairs carefully. The sound of Mark's voice and Chicka's barks lead her to the back yard. The sun was just beging to set, casting yellows, pinks, and oranges into the house windows. Claire watched as Mark rolled around in the backyard with Chica. His red hair a mess, and jogging pants slightly grass stained. He ran and jumped, lading on his back and rolling around, Chica jumping around him, excitedly. A small smile reached Caires face as the two ran around. The smile slowly sank as she realized that one day she would have to spill everything to him. If she did that then would she even stay at this house? Or be too scared of what he thought and run away.......again? Claire hardened her resolve. No. She wouldn't run this time. She couldn't.
Marks POV
There was always something calming about playing with Chica. Her fur was soft and her movements fast. Mark chuckles as he rolled over. The dog licked his face joyfully.
"Common Chicka Beaka let's go inside." He said with a sigh and open the back door.
"Mark?" Claire came around the corner, speaking in a slightly high pitched voice. She sounded like a child in trouble.
"What's up?" He asked calmly, hoping not to freak her out.
"We need to talk." She mumbled.
"Come here." Mark gestured to the couch and sat down. He had meant for her to sit next to him but instead she cuddled into his side, burying her face into his cheast.
"Am I a bad person to you?" Claire asked quietly.
Mark frowned and picked up her chin, tilting towards his face.
"Claire you are a wonderful person. I would never beilive a lie like that."
A single tear fell from her cheek which he brushed away with his finger tips.
"But I've done so many things....so many wrong things." She began to tremble.
"I don't care." He said firmly. "I don't care what you've done. I know you. I know your heart. You're a good girl."
Claire sniffled.
"There are some things that have happened in the past....things I can't take back."
Claire burst into full on tears, the salty water dripping down her cheeks.
"I could have stopped him! I could have ran. I could've slapped his hands away. I was scared, terrified! I just laid there...."
"Woah woah slow down sweety." Mark cooed.
Claire slowly spilled everything, gulping back sobs and tears. She told him of her foster father. The people she had stolen from, the people she had left behind, the people broken behind her. With each story she told, it felt as if a little weight had been taken off of her back. She pushed back the fear, the anxiety, the humility and reached a moment when everything felt alright. Everthing was the way it was, and that was okay.
