The Mirror

Sunday morning dawned bright and noisy. Considering it was now entering into late October, the warmth of the morning was a surprise to Claire. She awoke with a smile, despite the endless list of things she wanted to accomplish. Her shower was heavenly, and when she was dressed and ready for the day, she went to the mirror to put on her scant makeup.

The feeling of freedom she had prevented her from looking too deeply into the mirror, until she leaned forward to put on her mascara. Claire was not one for wearing foundation, but she always had some on hand for an “emergency”. The bruise that remained on her face from yesterday was that emergency, She covered it to a comfortable level, then moved to her mascara. It was the focus on the mascara and the non-focus on her bruise that she noticed the reflection in the mirror was darker. The top of the wall behind her, above the toilet, she noticed was discolored and mottled with mold. The shower curtain had the same design, but it was ripped in three places. She looked to the reflection of the spigot, and she noticed that the metal was rusted. What the hell? Did she dare look at her own reflection?

There she stood, black hair cut short to the neck, gold crosses dangling from her ears, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep, a red sweater that looked like it went through one too many runs through the dryer and hung about the gaunt figure like a burlap bag. The woman in the mirror did not reflect Claire’s upbeat mood. The reflection dropped her head slightly and smiled with one side of her mouth. Within her eyes was venom, a venom of jealousy, envy, and anger. The vibrations pulsed again, and it was joined by terror. Claire had told Gabriel to go away, but it appears he may have right.

It was Claire’s turn to become angry. She turned back to the reflection, their eyes meeting. You have no business here! she mind-screamed at the reflection. There was no change in the other’s glare. Then Claire raised her hand to the mirror, and the look of horror from the reflection made her sure that she had taken control. As Claire raised her arm, the reflection was forced to move in the same way. As their hands met, separated only by the mirror itself, the pulses became rapid. With all of her might, she focused the vibrations into her hand on the mirror.

Go away! The pulses became a shockwave that went through the mirror, and Claire watched as the reflection flew backwards, banging painfully off of the toilet. An instant later, it was Claire’s true reflection that she saw. She lowered her hand and smiled at herself, hoping that this little victory would be one of many on the road to normalcy.

She left the bathroom, wearing one of Eric’s flannels, and decided that she would go to church. She owed it to Julie. As she gathered her coat, keys, and purse, she prayed silently that the Julie she left behind had found her girls, and safety. After church, she told herself, she would make her way down to Colonial Village and see if she was still at home, assuming she wasn’t at church. Claire had no clue if the Julie of this world was anything like the one she knew.

As she passed by the basement door, she felt pulled back to it. She already knew that she’d find Eric’s body gone, but the compulsion was too great. Sure enough, the corner of the basement was empty where once his body had been. She made a point to stop at the police barracks today to inquire about Eric’s location, so that she could set up burial for him. Closing the door, she made her way down to her car behind the garage.

A sigh escaped her as she laid her eyes on the Jeep. It shined its bright gold in the sunlight, and the aroma of the apple pie air freshener was music to her nose. She felt like she was home… Even though it had been just over a week, she peddled the idea within her own mind that the Jeep wouldn’t start. With a muted roar, though, it fired right up. In the cubby above the glove box, Claire found her cell phone. Her heart skipped a beat and quickly found her charger and plugged it in. The fear, though, was too great, and as it sounded its Vincent Price Thriller laugh notification, she let it go. She wasn’t ready to face the music with the family.

The voice in the back of her head asked why she didn’t just walk to the church, but the voice in the front of her head told it to shut the hell up and bask in the glory of driving again. Normalcy, she pleaded with herself. The drive was uneventful, even though it took a few minutes longer than it normally would because of rebuilding efforts. She made the right turn onto Front Street and pulled into the parking lot. There weren’t very many vehicles in the lot, as a lot of residents decided to walk to church on this beautiful Sunday morning. When she shut the Jeep off, she looked into the rear view mirror and let out a minor huff. Becky Friedman had done a number to her face, and her makeup only covered up some of the bruising. With a shrug, she exited the vehicle with a half-smile.

The outside air maintained the pungent after-aroma of the various fires that the Valley suffered during the attack. But the residents that she joined on her way to the church’s front door were smiling and greeting each other with relief. It was only then that Claire began to wonder how the Valley would recover from the attack. She was unsure of how long the power was off, as it was still on when she made her first jump. Seeing the number of eighteen wheelers driving up and down Main Street, though, she was inclined to believe that it was long enough to let all refrigerated and frozen food items to spoil. Then there was the question of people going to work. There was no way that the Valley was the only place affected, so how widespread was the destruction of the attack? What about her job? How could she deliver food if there was no food to deliver? How would she pay her bills?

These thoughts distracted her long enough that she didn’t realize the church’s door was in front of her. As she began to climb the stone steps to enter the grand, gray church, she looked up and stopped in her tracks. The entire glass front of the church was boarded up with plywood, two doors hastily mounted within the wooden wall. And beside the doors stood a tall, ominous man. He wore jeans with a bright white buttondown shirt, and he stared down at her with joyous, brown eyes. The man’s hair was barely there, at odds with the thick, black goatee that sprouted from around his mouth.

Inwardly, Claire smiled with excitement. A week ago, she was taken aback by the man before her, but that was in a different world. As she stared at him now, her heart flooded with the feeling of familiarity. She climbed the remaining few steps with a bounce and approached the man with her hand already outstretched.

“Good morning, Martin! It’s so wonderful to see you again!” Claire grasped his hand firmly and energetically.

Pastor Martin Sullivan looked down at her with a confused smile. “Do we know each other, ma’am?”

“Not in this world, pastor,” she answered with a wink. She laughed inside at his confusion, and she relaxed a little at the comfort seeing the pastor had given her.

Pastor Sullivan shook his head, the smile never leaving his face, as Claire released his hand and made her way into the church. She sat in the second-to-last row of the chapel and sat quietly, waiting for Martin to begin his sermon. Scanning the growing crowd, Claire kept her eyes and ears pealed for Julie and the kids. The joy that seeing Pastor Sullivan brought to her would pale in comparison to seeing Julie. Claire had only spent a couple of days with her, but she was the only friend Claire had in the madness of the alternate realities.

Her thoughts went back to the family notifications on her phone that she was so incredibly fearful of reading. She wasn’t sure if she could find the courage to reveal the fates of her and Eric’s families. The need to rebuild in her home world was the only thing she wanted, even if Eric couldn’t be a part of it. But that also meant facing the fact that he was gone, and the grief and pain that accompanied it.

The happy exclamations of children brought her out of her thoughts, and her eyes widened in expectation. Claire leaned to her left to get a better look of the front of the chapel. There she saw a little boy and girl, twins, playing in the pews, their mother scolding them to settle down. Damn it!

A short time later, Pastor Sullivan arrived at the pulpit with the organ as his soundtrack. When the music ceased, Martin began with a prayer and began reading the names of those that had been killed during the attack. Three hundred and twenty-eight of the Valley’s residents had lost their lives. The lump in her throat grew as the pastor read the names off, a tear joining the lump when Eric’s name was read off. Just as the lump was starting to subside, Claire heard it.

“Julie Schwarz, and her five children, Allie, Jasmine, Christina, Mary, and Peter,” said Martin solemnly. Then he continued after a brief pause, “Ronald and Emily Hanson… “

Claire could barely keep her sob silent as she heard the names of Julie and her kids. Why, God?! Why did she deserve to die?! She knew that none of the people that were killed had deserved it, but Julie meant something to her, even if it wasn’t this world’s Julie. Claire didn’t want to hate God but having lost so much in just a week was overwhelming. How many people would she have to bury?

Pastor Sullivan was already into his sermon when Claire came back to the present. And as she focused on his words, she began to get the vibrations inside of her as she did a week ago. Martin had chosen the Book of Revelation to read from today, and he was speaking of the Third Seal.

“And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hands,” he boomed to the congregation, his hand lifted before him as though he was holding the scales. “The famine, brothers and sisters. But is it a literal famine? Are we being referenced to a worldwide famine that will affect the entirety of the human race? Many theologians believe that, and climate change is bringing that ever closer to reality. However,” and Claire saw Martin’s eyes land on her, “what if it’s a spiritual famine?”

He walked away from the podium as he continued to speak, his eyes constantly finding Claire as he paced. “The Book of Revelation is about God’s judgment of mankind. Why does He judge us? It’s because too many have turned their backs on Him. There is too much sin in the world. More sin than when he razed the Tower of Babel. More sin than when He had Noah build the Ark. It is the final judgment of us, to find those souls that deserve eternal life.”

The vibrations pulsed again as Pastor Sullivan spoke, Claire thinking that he wasn’t even aware of his eyes finding her with every other word. In her mind, she saw the reflection in the mirror form earlier in the morning. The woman, herself, was gaunt and tired. Claire thought of the dreams of the chasm, nearly empty but compelled to be full. Martin seemed to question the legitimacy of one reason for the third horseman over another, challenging the difference between literal and figurative. What if it’s both? Claire had to refocus her mind again. The events of the past week made the idea of rebuilding her life here so much more difficult.

“We must have a spiritual revival, brothers and sisters! The events of the last the few months, and especially of the last week, have shown us that the first two horsemen have been loosed upon the world! They have made their conquest! They have started their war! Now they come for your faith!” Once again, Pastor Sullivan eyes found Claire’s. This time, it seemed that he meant to.

“We need your faith to be restored! We cannot have lost these lives in vain! Their souls have a purpose!” And his eyes pierced into Claire’s with a fervor. “Prayers be to the Lord God, Almighty!”

The nausea was immediate and fierce. Claire broke her eye contact and sprinted to the bathroom, hand over her mouth. Thankfully, she would think about later, nobody noticed because of her being seated in the back of the chapel. When she made it to the bathroom, nothing came up as she bent over the toilet. That didn’t stop it from being painful, and through the stars in her closed eyes, she saw the chasm before her, its light pulsing with the vibrations. Finally, after what seemed a millennium, the gags ended. She held her stomach, her ab muscles burning from the effort. Claire made her way to the sink, where she wetted a paper towel and wiped the sweat from her face.

The mirror showed what wasn’t. Other Claire stared back at her, eyes wide with an expression of near anger. Her bathroom was unlit, and where the frosted window should’ve been was a view of an overcast sky. Leafless trees blew in a howling wind, and Claire thought she could feel the chill of the day through the mirror. Her reflection wore a tattered white t-shirt, and long hair fell in tangled knots below her shoulders.

Help me! Claire heard the voice of Other Claire in her head as she watched the reflection mouth the words.

Claire was stunned, but she was able to respond, “I can’t… I… I have my life here.”

No! You need…

A rush of irate annoyance exploded through her. “Go away! I won’t!” She locked eyes with the reflection and raised her hands to the mirror, forcing the other to do the same. And as she did earlier, Claire focused the pulses into her hands and pushed. The reflection flew back against her wall, unconscious. A knock on the door interrupted her concentration.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, are you alright?” It was Pastor Sullivan.

Claire shifted her eyes to the closed door, then back to the mirror. All was normal again. Jesus! Then she made the hand gestures for the cross to forgive her blasphemy.

“Hello? Ma’am?”

“Yes… yes, I’m fine! I’m coming out now.”

She steadied herself and forced the pulsing vibrations deep down. Pastor Sullivan stood a step away from the door, not wanting to crowd her as she came out. He put his hand on her shoulder and, with an expression of genuine concern, asked, “How can I help you?”

Claire shook her head from side-to-side, “I don’t know. I’m just trying to figure out what to do.”

“Come, child, and let us talk.” He gestured with his other hand towards the offices behind them. She nodded her assent and followed him to his office.

They spoke for some time, and she found out about all that had happened in the week she was gone. The naval air station at Willow Grove was back in government hands, but the devastation of the attack had spread far beyond the Valley. Harrisburg was in ruins, the Capitol Building and the Governor’s Mansion razed to the ground, the governor and the major players in the state assembly all killed. The state of Pennsylvania itself was under federal conservatorship, he told her. The state was under an emergency declaration of indefinite time as damage occurred from Pittsburgh to Allentown. National Guard troops had driven the militias back into the mountains, with the exception of the city of Lancaster, which remained in rebel hands. Thousands were dead throughout the state, and the current environment was enough to bring the lump back into Claire’s throat.

She asked him about how they, the federal government, intended to restore the Valley back to normal. Pastor Sullivan told her that, until all of the non-perishable food items were replaced and local businesses were back to relative normal operation, the government would pay the bills for everybody. A loud sigh came from her at this news, and the pastor smiled at her relief.

Claire stood after an unknown amount of time and thanked the pastor for his patience and concern. He stood with her and took her hand in both of his, her eyes widening slightly at how completely her hand was swallowed, and offered his services to her whenever she needed it.

“Thank you, Pastor Sullivan. You’ve made this much easier on my mind.”

“Go with God, Claire. He’s got your back,” he said as he escorted her to his door. As she turned away from him to make her way down the hallway, she paused when he asked her a question. “How did you know me? I’ve never been to this church before.”

She turned to him, and with a wink and smile, she said, “It was in another world, pastor. Thank you for your time.”

* * *

The next few days were a blur for Claire, as she began to set aright her life. She found her courage and faced her and Eric’s families. The pain cut deep in those meetings, as she found that her parents had passed. Fortunately, they passed as a result of their ages, and not because any rebel asshole killed them. Her brother, Steven, had survived with no real issues, and had moved forward with burial plans for them. The reunion with him and her sister, who had also survived the attacks with her husband, was tearful, sad, and wonderful.

Allen, Anne’s husband and Claire’s brother-in-law, recounted to her how lucky they were to live near the airport. “The National Guard moved in pretty quick once the attacks started. We heard some explosions and gunfire, but they were so far off that I wasn’t too concerned.” He leaned back and grabbed a hold of Anne’s hand, giving her a look of empathy and love.

Steven recounted a similar story, though it was devoid of his normal humorous cynicism. Claire was used to him staring off into nowhere when he he was serious. Seeing him like that now shook her to the core. He had latched on tight to caring for their parents as they aged. And even though their father had a homecare nurse come by twice a day for some time, Steven still felt that their well-being was his responsibility. To Claire, he almost seemed lost, without purpose, now that they were gone. He told them how the rebels had gotten significantly closer to their house than what they had to Anne’s, but they never felt in real danger.

Saturday was the day he had set up for the funeral, and they were gifted a spot in a nearby cemetery in Emmaus, as it was impossible, in the current situation, to get the to their chosen burial plots in Philadelphia. The siblings spent several hours remembering the past, laughing, crying, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

That reunion happened on Tuesday. It was Wednesday evening when she met with Eric’s stepmother and younger sister. To Claire’s horror, she was unable to reach Eric’s older sister who lived in upstate Pennsylvania, and none of the notifications on her phone were from Lauren or her wife. She was able to meet with her own sister and brother at her apartment, but she decided to drive to Quakertown to meet with Ariel, and her mother, Eric’s stepmother, Emma.

The feel in Ariel’s home was quiet rage and extreme sadness. Eric’s family felt cheated, and they expressed their hatred for his killers through their tears. Claire felt herself losing control, and the vibrations began to pulse again. She found it strange how her emotions affected the vibrations, but she also felt that there was something more to it, something that she knew she wouldn’t understand for some time. Claire, when she was able to, explained to Emma and Ariel that she had chosen to have Eric buried on Sunday, next to his grandparents. She begged for forgiveness in case they felt she had overstepped her bounds in setting up the funeral, but they just smiled and thanked her. Not having Lauren there made the whole experience more difficult, knowing that their grief had to be intermixed with worry. They all agreed to inform the others in case she was found.

Hugs and tears marked their parting, and Claire promised herself to not lose contact with Eric’s family after the funeral. The pit of her stomach fought back at the thought, and the dreams of the chasm and the reflections in the mirrors churned up with it. She had kicked Gabriel out of her life, though she had the feeling that he was well aware of her actions, and had chosen a life alone over whatever he had in mind. Claire had no desire to go beyond her own life. She had made it through all of the ups and downs, and though she wasn’t as successful as she had once hoped she’d be, she was still alive, and she still had people who loved her. She had finally known true love, and she would cherish it for the rest of her days, even if she had to do it alone. Were there other Eric’s out there? The events of the last week have shown her that there was. Perhaps, there was a reality out there where he existed, and she didn’t. Why not just find one of those realities and start over? Because it would be him, but not him. She was prepared to face the world alone.

* * *

By Friday, Claire’s life was on a roll. The heartbreak of the coming weekend loomed large on the horizon, but she had been able to secure rent through the end of the year and continue as a full time GrubHub driver. The Valley was well on its way back to normalcy, and people were beginning to smile again. The funerals were constant, as was the reminder of what had happened, but the people were making the best of it. Claire was waking up in the mornings excited, ready to face the world.

She valued that excitement and hoped that it wouldn’t go away any time soon, for her sleep time was a harbinger of doom. The dreams of the chasm continued, and it was nearly the same every time. The only changes were the color of the lightning and the painfully slow resolution of the figures she saw across the chasm. In the waking world, she was able to control the pulsing of the vibrations, but in the dream world, she had no such power. The strikes of lightning would cause the vibrations to surge, and the pulses were in tune with the colorful mist roiling at the bottom of the chasm. Upon the white noise of the maelstrom, Claire strained to hear what she thought were voices, not sure if it was from the shadows across the abyss, from the clouds above, or even from herself. Her screams of communication echoed through her mind, but she had doubts about whether or not she was actually speaking in the dream. The experience was etheric and mind-bending, and no amount of willpower would fend of the dream.

Then there were the mirrors… Claire tried as hard as she could to avoid mirrors. In the reflections of her others, the worlds she saw were terrifying. Buildings in tatters, skies on fire, her others in various states of disarray and madness, it was worse than the dreams. And each time she found herself face-to-face with an alternate Claire, she would use her pulse ‘weapon’ to throw them back from the reflection and end the… Crossrip? She hated having to name things that she was unfamiliar with, but, in this case, she was able to channel Ray Stanz. A chuckle followed the hope that Claire would never have to face Gozer in the mirror.

So, the happiness that she woke up with was a drug she hoped would never go away. Deep down, though, she knew that this life would eventually return to its everyday ‘ho-hum’, and she had to prepare herself for redoubling the fight to keep the alternate realities at bay. Friday was her third day back to work, and it was a godsend. Sure, delivering food wasn’t some out-of-this-world awesome job, but it kept her life going and provided a great service to those that used it. Plus, with all of the construction going on in the Valley, business was booming. The fact that she had to travel back and forth to Harleysville, or Souderton, didn’t bother her at all. The drive was relatively short, and she always enjoyed the tranquil scenes of the backwoods areas. Eric and Claire would often go on drives, sometimes three to four hours long, just traveling around eastern Pennsylvania and enjoying the sheer beauty of the landscapes.

What truly brought her happiness out was knowing that Halloween was only four days away. With the bonus money she was receiving with the deliveries to the construction crews, she set aside time, after Eric’s funeral on Sunday, to get a costume. In honor of him, Claire chose to find a sailor’s costume. She had wished, more than anything, that she could’ve been a part of his life when he served in the Navy, but fate never allowed for it.

The weekend came and took its time in going. Both her family and Eric’s family had never spent so much time together, but the sense of family each of them gained from their shared sadness and grief would hold them together for the rest of their days. Unfortunately, Claire felt that her time with them was shorter than the rest. While the pulsing vibrations never disappeared, they had never been so far in the background. Even the mirrors showed only the world se was in now. Why was relief only found in her sorrow? It didn’t matter to her all that much, at the moment, as she prepared to say goodbye to her parents.

Claire found her parents’ funeral therapeutic, and she was happy that they were no longer suffering from what age had put them through. Her brother, Steven, took the day especially hard, and it was one of only a handful of times that Claire had seen him breakdown and be vulnerable. It wasn’t until the family members were seated in a corner of the Trivet Restaurant that Steven was finally able to break through his silent pain and speak. And before long, he was back to his joyous cynicism as the conversation turned to their memories of their parents. It was a wonderful and needful time of closure, and when they parted ways that evening, there was gleeful laughter juxtaposed with strained sadness for what the next day would bring.

They met again at seven o’clock Sunday morning, at the Mann Funeral Home on Washington Street, only a few minutes walk from Claire’s apartment. The last time that Claire had been at the funeral home was after the death of Eric’s grandfather a few years before. She never imagined that she’d be here for him, during all of the time of their relationship, she had always expected that he’d outlive her. More stressing still was Eric’s missing sister, Lauren. No progress had been made in locating them, nor of getting into contact with anybody that may have known their whereabouts.

Her pain was unlike anything she had felt before. Claire knew that Eric had been her soulmate, and she also remembered, in vivid detail, watching him die three separate times. As Pastor Sullivan spoke of a man he never knew, Claire broke down in empty despair. As good as she had felt through the week, she realized that she had been burying her pain in the hope of not having to face it. Deep in her mind she had hoped for a reason to jump to another reality, even after promising herself that she wouldn’t. The hole within her was so much larger than she expected, and she sat there trying to fill it with her tears. The morning passed by in a blur. Because of the funeral, she chose to skip the church service, despite Martin’s weak plea for her to attend. The grieving family went to the Pennsburg Diner this time, for lunch, before breaking for the remainder of the weekend.

The fatigue of grief had her laying on her couch by the early afternoon, but there was not much relief for her to find in sleep. Once again, Claire found herself standing on the precipice, the ghostly blue and pink flowing beneath her. Through the lightning she spied the shadow figures, and despite not being able to see any details, she could now see that both shadows were men. Beneath the din of the wind and the thunder, she thought she could hear the shadows speaking. And though she could only make out a syllable here and there, Claire didn’t have a clue as to what was being said, or to whom it was being spoken to. Every moment seemed to last an hour, and nothing ever appeared to be different. Then the voices came again, this time from behind her. The fear rose within her; she wanted to turn to the voices, but what if the shadow figures disappeared? She had no reason to believe that they would, but it was a feeling she couldn’t shake. So, she dared herself to turn around, and what she saw frightened her stiff.

No breath escaped Claire’s lips, either in the dream or in the waking world. Her eyes stared unblinking at what lay before her. It looked like a small army, but each person was her. None of her others were identical, some were dressed casually, others in a more upscale fashion, and still others stood in tattered, stained clothes. Each one’s hair was also different; blonde hair that reached to the waist, a short bob that barely touched the shoulders, and shoulder-length wavy curls of various brown hues framed faces in various degrees of fullness and agedness. From wealthy aristocrat to homeless miser, Claire stared at all of her others in stunned, terrified silence. She watched as the wind buffeted their clothing, yet they stood firm in their places, as unmoving as a cinder block wall in gale winds.

The lightning flashed like a strobe light before her, and the thunder roared like a pride of lions cornering its prey. And behind it all swirled a horizontal maelstrom of black and blue clouds. To Claire, it seemed a portal, but God only knew where it might lead. The end of the maelstrom couldn’t be seen, as it appeared to stretch into the distance forever, and its mouth took most of the sky in that direction. She stared, terrified, as the cacophony of lightning, thunder, and maelstrom blasted her ears, yet her others remained unwavering at the fury, staring into nowhere. It was only then that Claire noticed something else, and if she thought that she couldn’t be anymore horrified, she knew in that moment that she was wrong.

Her eyes darted from one Claire to the next, and as unique as each one of them was, the one thing they all had in common was a lack of eyes. Like the chasm behind her, their sockets were dark and endless, with a small pool of flashing blue and pink light at the bottom. Even from her distance, she could see the depth of the blackness in each face, as though they were standing right in front of her. Claire slowly closed her eyes, finally able to control one part of her body. Oh God… Oh God… Oh God… She repeated the thought several more times, then reopened her eyes. Nothing had changed. Where are you, Sammy?! screamed Dean Winchester into Claire’s mind.

With all of her strength, Claire began to turn back to the chasm, and the shadow figures that still stood across it. A small measure of relief spread through her at the sight of the shadows, but the terror of what was now behind her never wavered. Then came the voices again… and she could now understand them.

Come for us. Find us. Save us. Kill us. The voices of her others called to her, pleading, demanding, begging… Claire felt the tears well up in her eyes as the pulsing began in earnest inside her. But the pulses also reached her from her others, the vibrations all in unison and threatening the very fabric of her dream. It became almost a chant in her mind, and she felt herself losing control. She brought her hands to her temples in an effort to quell the voices, her head aching and pounding.

“Stop! Stop! Stop!” she heard herself scream into the abyss. “I can’t do this!”

Then suddenly, all went silent, and her breath caught in her throat. The shadows spoke one word into the silence.

Mother.

Claire gasped and bolted awake. The sunlight shone through the window, blinding her. She grabbed the back of the couch to steady herself, the incredible force with which she sat up giving her a few moments of vertigo. But the images of what she saw in the dream were etched into her mind. She stood quickly and ran to the bathroom, throwing open the lid of the toilet noisily and spilling her lunch in a painful heave. Claire closed her eyes as the cold sweat beaded on her forehead, trying with all of her will to prevent from retching again. She was unsuccessful as the word ‘mother’ went through her thoughts.

“Mother,” she said to herself quietly as she flushed the toilet. She began to weep.

Continue Claire's strange journey in Chapter 11:

The Demon and The Angel