Murder In Mayville - Chapter Two - Clarice

Clarice finds it hard carrying on with normal life.

CHAPTER TWO

CLARICE

“You need to get up darling!”

I threw the duvet off of my body and sighed as I remembered the events of yesterday.

How was I meant to get myself out of the bed and get on with my day? I didn’t see how it was possible. It wasn’t possible. I would lie there in my own sweat and tears until someone physically removed me from the bed. That person probably being my mother.

I tried to stop the tears from falling down my face but failed and minutes later my mother appeared at my bedside.

“Clarey, please get up.”

She hadn’t called me that since I was a kid. It softened my heart and I wriggled out of bed, my feet padding on the carpet as I shuffled towards my wardrobe.

“Aren’t you going to have a shower dear?”

I paused, feeling my heart stiffen. Why must she boss me about? I was nearly forty for crying out loud! I was not a kid anymore and I didn’t need her following along behind me.

“Mum!” I snapped “I’m not ten anymore, you can’t tell me what to do. Just leave me alone!”

I charged out of my bedroom, slamming the door on the way. I felt her tense up behind me and waited for the inevitable sobbing. Seconds later I could hear it. Loud and choked like a chicken being strangled. I didn’t know why but it irritated me more. I was the one who should be crying, not her! I bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen, my nightie flaring out behind me as I went.

The kitchen was spotless, nothing like it normally would be, with plates left on the side and mugs of half-drunk tea, a couple of stray digestive biscuits on the worktop and a sometimes a carton of empty milk abandoned on the table, waiting to be thrown into the recycling bin.

Pete and I weren’t the most tidy of couples. I was not the most tidy of people.

It broke my heart to be referring to him in past tense, to us in past tense. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to it. How was I meant to carry on when my reason for carrying on was gone?

I forced myself to go through the motions, to act on auto-pilot. I fetched the butter from the fridge and a slice of bread from the freezer. While I waited for it to toast I bit my nails, something I hadn’t done in years. It didn’t take long for them to go from healthy, long French manicured beauties to bitten down stubs. I didn’t know why but it made me feel better.

Grief was a funny thing.  

“Clarice!” Mum shouted at she bounded through the kitchen door, her unmade face displaying a concerned frown.

“Yes Mum” I replied, biting at the skin on my fingers.

Mum’s face seemed to change, from an angry, bitter glare to a sad, beaten quiver.

“I’m sorry for crying, it shouldn’t be me crying, I should be the one holding it all together, holding you together, being there for you!”

Guilt washed over me, yet again and I threw my  arms around my mother, feeling her bony shoulders and warm breath.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too. We have to stick together…” I trailed off, not sure what to say next. Mum took my hands in hers and squeezed them, her eyes looked kind and loving, which was something I was shocked to notice. My mum wasn’t the maternal type. She had had me at seventeen and I didn’t think she had ever forgiven me for actually being born and messing up her life and her future.

She smiled, a sad, half smile and whispered “Times like these just remind me of what happened to your father.”

I froze, my heart beating loudly in my chest and tried to control my heavy breathing.

“What happened to him, Mum?”

Mum never spoke about my father and I had almost given up hope of ever finding out what actually happened to him.

She took a couple of deep breaths, looked me in the eye and said “He killed himself, Clarice!”

 

 

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Reviews

[Shawn]

The story is developing quite nicely, and you're doing very well. I saw no problems in the grammar, and the dialogue is smooth as anything. The only problem is about the amount of content. I know what you're thinking. I already edited for this, so why am I bringing it up again? Well, it looks like you're hanging around the extremes of chapter lengths. Some are too short, some are too long. I'm the pickiest person in the world, and my OCD has always been a problem. Other than this, your story is perfect in my eyes, and I can't wait to read more!

[TinyTori]

Again, thank you so much Michael for spending your time reading my work, I am very grateful. I am so glad you say the grammar and dialogue is smooth and problem free! Yes, I hold my hands up and admit my content amount is an issue and always has been. What parts seem like they have too much or too little? Yes, I'm not sure exactly how long a chapter should be...what chapter would you say is standard length? I have a lot of OCD issues but annoyingly not so much in my own writing which would probably actually help it if I did! Aww thank you so much, you don't know how much that means to me. It is hard as I am only 19 so trying to write about 'adults' and careers/experiences I have not encountered is hard and obviously I am going to have to do a lot of research for Jack's character - Detective Inspector Police Officer.