He doesn't touch her and he doesn't touch her and he doesn't touch her but he looks at her sometimes with shadowed eyes and one night she whispers to him, I'm not going to wait forever.
It's only on the darkest nights - when storm clouds choke the starlight from the hole in her stone roof, his soft breathing the only sound, hand resting over her chest as her silent tears splash onto his wrist - that she lets herself believe he might be right about this place.
One night she finds a bottle of whiskey and falls right in (runs in bloodlines) and when Jacob finds her Claire is drunk and defenseless and impossibly young, looking at him with tear-bright eyes and pleading take me home.
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I love this, showing the self-destructive-Shephard side of her. Nice work!
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