001. aftermath
she sits in her car and doesn’t move for minutes that seem more like hours. her hands are still on the wheel, though her car is already parked. she only needs to get out and go up the elevator to get home, and yet. yet, she doesn’t move. she stays still, her breathing coming out in gasps and tears silently falling from her deep brown eyes. everything’s silent, in fact. it’s past midnight, and none of the residents of the building she lives in are known to be night owls.
she shouldn’t be surprised, really. her parents have never been proud of her. she’s too different from them; not just in looks, but also in personality. still, she wishes they’d try. she wishes they’d at least pretend. that they could look at her the way they look at her sister, and that they could stop criticizing every single thing she does. she gets it, really. she’s part of the big corporate machine now. she’s everything they’ve ever stood again, and yet. yet, she’s their daughter. they should be more encouraging, shouldn’t they? she knows they love her, but it’s not enough. love without respect doesn’t mean much, especially not to clementine.
finally, she moves. she lets out a loud sob, and lets her forehead drop against the wheel. her breathing becomes more rushed, everything coming out at once. she feels like screaming, like breaking something. she’s worked so damn hard, and it means nothing to them. she’s accomplished her ultimate goal at her young age, and to them, she might as well have done nothing. it’s too much, and clemetine can’t stand it. just another cog in the machine. that’s all she is to them. that’s all she’ll ever be.
