Suffocating

Unravel; VII

Roxanne couldn't find Claire, and she was terrified.

She called Claire. No answer. She looked around the changing room, knocking on each stall, hoping that the girl had found a cute shirt and decided she'd like to try it out. She gained no response, none from Claire, anyway.

She called, and called, and called again. Claire didn't answer. Something wasn't right. Claire always answered. Something definitely wasn't right.

She exited the changing room, walking around the clothing store. She stopped yelling out Claire's name when her voice cracked. She was still in pain. She was still shaking from distraught. But Claire was not here, and Roxanne needed to find her. Claire had to be okay.

"Ma'am, are you okay?"

Roxanne jumped. It was a man. A man with a beard and a beanie and a concerned look on his face. He was just a man worried for the state of others. A regular man.

But what if he wasn't?

What if he knew?

What if he was going to keep watching her, stalking her, waiting, waiting, waiting until she was out of sight, out of mind, alone in the dark, then capture her, and do horrible things to her.

"I- I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" He knitted his eyebrows, pursed his lips. He looked like he was going to call an ambulance. It might be a good idea too. Not the ambulance part, but the getting help part or calming down part.

But all Roxanne could think about was how he'd look with eyes darker than the night sky, a smile you'd have when you knew you were in full-control and the person in front of you had no control at all, no matter how much she wanted to pretend.

He made a move to reach out to her. She jolted and took a step back, away from him, the potential threat, the mystery man who could be more than just a man.

"Stay away from me."

He looked genuinely hurt. Roxanne bit her tongue, keeping herself from letting out another sob. She walked away from him, tried to forget him, tried to ignore all the stares she got from everyone around her, hugging herself.

Where the fuck is she?

She was sweating and freezing. Her mind kept thinking of the warnings everyone kept giving her, the warnings she ignored. Warnings about what they'd do to those who broke the unspoken rules. Those who were reckless. Those who were an idiot. Idiots get killed. Idiots never survived.

She went into one shop, tried to spot Claire, failed, and moved on to the next shop, and the next, and the next.

"Claire?!"

All eyes were on her. She was in public. She probably looked hysteric. Hell, she was hysteric.

"Do you need us to call the cops?"

"Who are you looking for?"

"You need to calm down."

Too many people. Not enough Claire. People couldn't be trusted. Nothing, no one. Everyone was out to get her. Claire wasn't. Claire would never do anything. Claire was Claire.

Vivid images conjured themselves inside of her head. Images of where Claire could be. Images of Claire alone, tied up, interrogated, hurt, used as bait, bleeding, crying, lost. It could happen. It could very well happen. She wouldn't be exaggerating. In fact, whatever they could be doing to her was worse, far worse, than anything she could've imagined.

Claire. Oh God, Claire.

Claire could be hurting, dying, dead already, and it would be her fault.