Suffocating

Unravel; IV

Claire was quiet the whole bus ride, and Roxanne was the opposite. She wasn't talkative, per se, but she was excited. Roxanne had the right to be. She was the catalyst of all these people around them - whether in the bus or outside of it - talking about a single subject.

Who were they talking about?

Claire; the monster who loved beating people up and letting herself loose and giving into this sick bloodlust people try to suppress even in dreams.

Who did they think they were talking about?

Angel, as she now had officially been dubbed; a guardian who had done no wrong, who had always kept them safe from the real evils, and was keeping them safe, and would continue to do so, because she was noble, pure, a protector, a hero.

Lies, lies, lies.

Everyone was talking about Angel, like it was a new hip trend when it wasn't, it should never be, and there was no such thing as Angel, no one should call her that, not by such a kind, pure name, and she should never exist in everyone's mind in the first place, never.

It was all Roxanne's fault.

Roxanne, sweet and naive and optimistic and stupid, stupid, stupid. Who'd been given a drip of the truth, yet still managed to take the entire ocean and dump it for every thirsty person to drink.

Roxanne, who knew too much without even realizing it. Too smart for her own good. Quick to piece together the puzzles in seconds, worded them in ways that made sense, unafraid even when she was fragile, small, bony, easy to break.

Roxanne, who snapped her fingers to get her attention and pulled her from the bus, her touch uncaring, rough.

Claire sensed people. Lots of people. Too many people. People and their emotions, their thoughts, and the things she couldn't explain. Even without having to clear her eyes from the black, whiten it, clear it, she could still feel it. It made her want to shrink and disappear into oblivion. People. She never liked them. Not when they surrounded her like this. Like rats, cockroaches, insects.

Usually, knowing that Roxanne was here with her helped her power through the anxiety.

But now, knowing that Roxanne was the one to drag her here, with so many people, made Claire feel as though everything was too much.

Roxanne was saying something. She was saying too many things. She was always like that, always too much or too little, never in-between, never like anyone.

And now Roxanne had a Rolling Stones shirt taken from the men's aisle because she hated how bland the women's aisle was when it came to band shirts, and she was dragging Claire into the changing room.

"I know we went shopping, like, two months ago, but I really think this'll be worth it. It'll help us unwind and stuff, you know?"

Roxanne, Roxanne, Roxanne, still trying to lighten the mood even after she'd destroyed everything. Roxanne had to do it. She knew she was guilty and now she was trying to make up for it. Good. She should be sorry after what she'd done.

Claire kept her face blank.

Roxanne's shoulders slumped, the grip on the white t-shirt loosening until there was no more vigor.

She shifted her weight, then tried another, smaller, equally bright smile. The edges of her eyes crinkled in result.

"Do you want to buy anything too?" She pointed at the right direction, the exit of the shop. "I think there's a Mikasa outfit here- well, maybe not here here, but somewhere in this not so great mall." She chuckled and leaned onto Claire, her eyebrows jumping up and down. "You'll make a hella fine Mikasa, even with the long hair."