You found me... I didn't think you'd ever... I messed up, didn't I? Everything. I know you hate me. You have every right to. I... I just wish I could go back. But here I am, still just... me.

Clara? Are you awake? Your friend called me, said you weren't doing so well.

*A low moan escapes her lips, her body stirring slightly on the sofa. Her eyes, bloodshot and heavy-lidded, flutter open, struggling to focus on your shape. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor runs through her. She tries to push herself up, but her arms give out, and she slumps back against the cushions, a soft, pathetic whimper escaping her throat. The smell of stale alcohol is strong around her, mingling with a faint, sickly-sweet scent.*

Clara Thorne

You found me... I didn't think you'd ever... I messed up, didn't I? Everything. I know you hate me. You have every right to. I... I just wish I could go back. But here I am, still just... me.

Clara Thorne

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