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clare.

“Then suit yar’self, Catherine. There’s plenty for me, then.”

The shoulders of the youngest Cartwright sister, shrugged. Plucking a fag from the box, she then placed in between her lips. Digits took the lighter from her cardigan pocket to light it, flicking it open with a quick flame escaping to burn the end. Mumbling, she focused over at her for a minute. “I thought ya used to. Did somethin’ happen? Ya’re too young to have any medical problems.”

“ why d’ya always assume the worst? ”

they’re perched on upturned crates at the end of the garden, an excess of shrubbery shielding them from view of prying eyes ( a mass of green leaves fading to brown as the summer months slip from their grasps ). gaze fixates on the cloud of smoke breathed harshly from her sisters nose her personal DRAGON. how she aches to tell clare her news; secrets are always shared between the girls, no matter their nature. and the guilt that consumes catherine, the ache that settles in the pit of her stomach they’re almost UNBEARABLE. but, for once, the eldest cartwright has some good news. what harm could it do to keep it to herself for a short while?

“ i did use to. but i’m on an ‘ealth kick trying to quit smoking and cut down on alcohol and all that shite. ” it’s not strictly a lie; her new job requires a certain level of fitness, and smoking cigarette after cigarette will only prove to have a negative impact.

#heroinxaddict #( v. the influence )#( t. short )

👪👻

👪 ( someone in my muse’s family )

ryan a constant reminder of a life LOST. though he knows little of his mother ( her influence non-existent ), he reflects NUMEROUS traits that greatly remind the sergeant of her daughter. the ever-present grin that reaches even his eyes, the stubborn nature reserved predominantly for his grandmother, the desire to achieve perfection in even the slightest of tasks. even now, catherine questions whether her decision to raise the boy had been a wise one. but then ryan does something that overwhelms his granny with PRIDE, and she’s reminded of why she allowed this troublemaker to steal her heart.

👻 ( someone my muse considers a best friend )

CLARE. catherine had been fifteen when they lost their mother and father, clare only thirteen. their grandmother took it upon herself to raise the girls, but it seems such decision was only made as it came with a decent payout. catherine, therefore, had single-handedly raised her sister ( as much as you can raise a person already well into her teens ). even now, thirty years later, the girls remain dependent on one another. and catherine certainly considers clare to be her best friend.

#( l. ask )#heroinxaddict #( sgt. insight )#( o. answered )

“ promise me you wont throw up. because gran’ll kill me, and that’ll fuck up everything I ‘ave planned. ” an impromptu rendezvous in the tree house their father had constructed years prior is how the sister’s decide to spend their friday evening. a PARTY is underway in the distance. the faint rumble of a pop song penetrates the silence, even from a dozen streets away. catherine had been invited to said party, but had blown it off upon clare’s suggestion they have a catch-up in their HIDEOUT. to most, it may seem pathetic, but the oldest cartwright would be lying were she to suggest she’d rather be anywhere else.

a four pack of is cradled beneath her arm, but is handed over to the youngest of the sisters as catherine settles herself against the adorning of cushions that are placed haphazardly across the wooden floor. a packet of cigarettes is carelessly ripped open ( perhaps it’s unsafe to light a cigarette in a make-shift home made from WOOD, but catherine couldn’t care less ). lighting one for herself, another for her sister, the older of the girls makes herself comfortable, cracking open a beer and taking a greedy sip.

“ so, what ‘ave I missed? ”

#heroinxaddict #( v. the influence )#( t. hideout )

clare.

Clare lowers the half empty can of her third drink. Hearing her sister’s voice she knew this wasn’t good. A long day deserved a drink, she hadn’t had one in so long and she knew Catherine had been looking out for her so she didn’t have to return to Rehabilitation. Her priorities weren’t supposed to be drinking, it was taking care of Ryan and herself, but here she was. Clare had been outside drinking and laughing with a close friend, talking about things that had barely become incomprehensible due to exactly that- drinking.

Sooner or later she knew someone was going to give her heck for trying to lightened herself up on all the nonsense happening lately. Here it had come. A hiccup left her lips before she spoke, standing with a tiny stumble in front of Catherine. “I had a bad day, can’t blame me for it- y’know.” Her free hand raised to rest upon the other’s shoulder, in attempt to push her away.

“Of course I have. Don’t treat me like I’m sixteen, Catherine. It ain’t like I’m here doing somethin’ illegally, right?” Sixteen? They had barely ever brought up their younger lives except when Becky had been born. But Clare in herself over the years had been reckless, not just with drinking but with narcotics. Depression had flooded the woman, it was unexplainable. Day after day hell had come back to her and all she could was turn to the bad things. You couldn’t blame her.

a STOIC woman of an unpleasant disposition, gentle features permanently marred by an ugly frown, years of worry and anguish evident in eyes the colour of an ocean. catherine seeks only to care for her sister, much in the way a mother might ( though how she could understand such a concept is beyond her; their own mother did little in the way of well, mothering, in the short years before she died ). having endured the months upon months in which clare found herself traipsing the thin line between life and death, the sergeant is quite unsure of why her sister would allow herself to RELAPSE so greatly.

arms cross over the woman’s chest, an eyebrow raises, and it appears as if she’s readying to scorn a child. yes, she treats clare as if she is such from time to time ( a detail the aforementioned cartwright so willingly draws attention to ). and she doesn’t mean to do it, of course she doesn’t. her PATRONISING mannerisms are often absent-minded. and she knows clare despises being treated in such a way. but after having witnessed a young man throw himself off a building only hours ago, catherine hardly has the will power to deal with such a pathetic cry for attention.

a heavy breath bleeds past the woman’s lips; clare trips and stumbles before her. and while an ANGER bubbles within her, the officer hasn’t it in her to scold her sister. though the younger of the two has pushed at her sister, a futile attempt to have the older woman back off, catherine grabs at clare’s arm, looking only to steady the other woman before she does herself any harm.

“ i’m not treating ya like you’re sixteen. you’re an adult trust me, i know. but you’ve done this one too many times, clare. and, I’m not gonna lie to ya, i’m sick of it. you can drink and drink, but you’re gonna end up dead in a ditch one day if you’re not careful. really think it’s worth it? just for a few beers? ”

#heroinxaddict #( v. the sergeant )#( t. relapse )