Eternal Sunshine - Chapter 1
Canst thou forget that sad, that solemn day,
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
*****
Claire heard the ringing of the telephone before she opened her eyes. She blinked slowly and turned in the direction of the irritating sound. The dream she’d been having - it was about something important, she was sure - dispersed with the ring of the phone.
Who could be calling at this hour?
It had to be early. Her room was still darkened by shadows and her eyelids felt heavy. She felt sick to her stomach and her head hurt. The ringing stopped and the call went to voicemail. It probably wasn’t important. If it was, she would deal with it in the morning.
There was something she was supposed to remember, Claire thought with fleeting clarity. It was something she didn’t want to forget.
She curled back under her comforter and fell asleep.
*****
When Claire woke again, it was light out.
She got out of bed and threw open the curtains, wincing at the bright rays of sunshine. The clock on her nightstand read 10:30. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, so it must be the weekend.
What day was it anyway?
She trudged to kitchenette to make herself tea and tried to wake up. Her body clung desperately to the last vestiges of sleep and Claire was tempted to go back to bed. She would have, but the last thing she remembered before opening her eyes was the scream of her own voice. If going back to bed meant going back to a nightmare, Claire didn’t want anything to do with it.
She pulled a tea bag out of the cabinet and filled her favorite mug - an artsy blue and green one that Peter bought her - with water. Putting the tea bag into the mug, she slid it into the microwave and set the time. Her mother used to make tea with a kettle over the stove, but in the years that Claire had been living alone, she’d gotten lazy.
While the microwave buzzed, Claire tried to get a handle on things. She felt uncertain and confused. This apartment, or maybe it was her, was different somehow.
Claire shook her head at the last thought. She and the apartment were exactly the same as they had been when she went to sleep last night.
At least, she was fairly sure.
Only she didn’t remember going to sleep.
Had she gone out drinking last night?
Claire didn’t think so, but everything seemed a little off the way it always did after a night out. She wasn’t even in her pajamas, she realized vaguely. She was wearing her favorite jean skirt and a blue halter top. She was certainly dressed for going out. Why hadn’t she changed when she got home?
Had she gotten that drunk?
Claire clutched the kitchen counter to steady herself.
Something was wrong.
Nothing in this situation made sense. With Claire’s regenerative power, it took a lot for her to get drunk and she had never blacked out before. She couldn’t remember anything about last night. Not to mention the fact that she had a headache. She wasn’t supposed to get headaches. Not ones that lasted anyway.
Something was very wrong.
Claire ignored the beeping of the microwave and walked to the bathroom. She was intent on splashing some water on her face and waking up from this bad dream, but she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and stopped.
She had obviously dressed up for something. The remains of carefully applied makeup were smudged by sleep and mascara trailed down her face in long-dried tear tracks. Claire couldn’t remember crying.
Not remembering events was bad enough, but not remembering what had obviously been strong emotions scared her. This entire situation scared her. The only time Claire could remember feeling this disoriented was after the first time she died, returning from the darkness alone and afraid.
When she was younger, Claire had assumed that her regenerative abilities meant that she couldn’t be broken. Over the years she’d been proven wrong so many times - with the death of Jackie, the loss of Peter after the explosion, being forced into hiding, watching her father die right in front of her, and countless other moments. Claire’s irrepressible resolve fractured each time. She was no longer an invincible girl, she knew. Claire Bennet was a glued-together mosaic of broken pieces.
This nameless situation had the potential to shatter her once again. Amongst all the mystery, that was the one thing Claire was sure of.
She took a deep breath and promised herself that she would figure things out. She wouldn’t let the fear beat her before she even had a chance to fight. Even if what she found out could break her, Claire didn’t want to settle for the alternative. The dark gap of memory tainted every thought it touched and filled itself with the worst possibilities…possibilities that Claire didn’t even want to admit to thinking.
It wasn’t a night of drinking with friends. Even with the clothes, she was fairly sure of that. What if she’d been captured…kidnapped…experimented on? What if they’d…?
She couldn’t even finish the thought.
Claire looked at the mirror through the darkness of the dim bathroom. She barely recognized the sad girl in front of her. A couple of days ago she’d been happy and smiling. Zach had been planning a trip out to New York to see her, she’d been getting along with the girls at work, and she was going to go see a movie with Peter over the weekend.
Claire turned on the faucet and let the water fall untouched for a moment before breaking the flow with her hand and splashing the cool liquid on her face. She grabbed soap and a washcloth and slowly started to scrub the makeup of a night she couldn’t remember off her face. With care, she erased the tear tracks of a forgotten sadness and prayed for something to hold on to.
*****
A/N: I hope you liked it and look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Next Chapter
When victims at yon altar's foot we lay?
Canst thou forget what tears that moment fell,
When, warm in youth, I bade the world farewell?
*****
Claire heard the ringing of the telephone before she opened her eyes. She blinked slowly and turned in the direction of the irritating sound. The dream she’d been having - it was about something important, she was sure - dispersed with the ring of the phone.
Who could be calling at this hour?
It had to be early. Her room was still darkened by shadows and her eyelids felt heavy. She felt sick to her stomach and her head hurt. The ringing stopped and the call went to voicemail. It probably wasn’t important. If it was, she would deal with it in the morning.
There was something she was supposed to remember, Claire thought with fleeting clarity. It was something she didn’t want to forget.
She curled back under her comforter and fell asleep.
*****
When Claire woke again, it was light out.
She got out of bed and threw open the curtains, wincing at the bright rays of sunshine. The clock on her nightstand read 10:30. Her alarm hadn’t gone off, so it must be the weekend.
What day was it anyway?
She trudged to kitchenette to make herself tea and tried to wake up. Her body clung desperately to the last vestiges of sleep and Claire was tempted to go back to bed. She would have, but the last thing she remembered before opening her eyes was the scream of her own voice. If going back to bed meant going back to a nightmare, Claire didn’t want anything to do with it.
She pulled a tea bag out of the cabinet and filled her favorite mug - an artsy blue and green one that Peter bought her - with water. Putting the tea bag into the mug, she slid it into the microwave and set the time. Her mother used to make tea with a kettle over the stove, but in the years that Claire had been living alone, she’d gotten lazy.
While the microwave buzzed, Claire tried to get a handle on things. She felt uncertain and confused. This apartment, or maybe it was her, was different somehow.
Claire shook her head at the last thought. She and the apartment were exactly the same as they had been when she went to sleep last night.
At least, she was fairly sure.
Only she didn’t remember going to sleep.
Had she gone out drinking last night?
Claire didn’t think so, but everything seemed a little off the way it always did after a night out. She wasn’t even in her pajamas, she realized vaguely. She was wearing her favorite jean skirt and a blue halter top. She was certainly dressed for going out. Why hadn’t she changed when she got home?
Had she gotten that drunk?
Claire clutched the kitchen counter to steady herself.
Something was wrong.
Nothing in this situation made sense. With Claire’s regenerative power, it took a lot for her to get drunk and she had never blacked out before. She couldn’t remember anything about last night. Not to mention the fact that she had a headache. She wasn’t supposed to get headaches. Not ones that lasted anyway.
Something was very wrong.
Claire ignored the beeping of the microwave and walked to the bathroom. She was intent on splashing some water on her face and waking up from this bad dream, but she caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror and stopped.
She had obviously dressed up for something. The remains of carefully applied makeup were smudged by sleep and mascara trailed down her face in long-dried tear tracks. Claire couldn’t remember crying.
Not remembering events was bad enough, but not remembering what had obviously been strong emotions scared her. This entire situation scared her. The only time Claire could remember feeling this disoriented was after the first time she died, returning from the darkness alone and afraid.
When she was younger, Claire had assumed that her regenerative abilities meant that she couldn’t be broken. Over the years she’d been proven wrong so many times - with the death of Jackie, the loss of Peter after the explosion, being forced into hiding, watching her father die right in front of her, and countless other moments. Claire’s irrepressible resolve fractured each time. She was no longer an invincible girl, she knew. Claire Bennet was a glued-together mosaic of broken pieces.
This nameless situation had the potential to shatter her once again. Amongst all the mystery, that was the one thing Claire was sure of.
She took a deep breath and promised herself that she would figure things out. She wouldn’t let the fear beat her before she even had a chance to fight. Even if what she found out could break her, Claire didn’t want to settle for the alternative. The dark gap of memory tainted every thought it touched and filled itself with the worst possibilities…possibilities that Claire didn’t even want to admit to thinking.
It wasn’t a night of drinking with friends. Even with the clothes, she was fairly sure of that. What if she’d been captured…kidnapped…experimented on? What if they’d…?
She couldn’t even finish the thought.
Claire looked at the mirror through the darkness of the dim bathroom. She barely recognized the sad girl in front of her. A couple of days ago she’d been happy and smiling. Zach had been planning a trip out to New York to see her, she’d been getting along with the girls at work, and she was going to go see a movie with Peter over the weekend.
Claire turned on the faucet and let the water fall untouched for a moment before breaking the flow with her hand and splashing the cool liquid on her face. She grabbed soap and a washcloth and slowly started to scrub the makeup of a night she couldn’t remember off her face. With care, she erased the tear tracks of a forgotten sadness and prayed for something to hold on to.
*****
A/N: I hope you liked it and look forward to hearing your thoughts!
Next Chapter