Some time after the truth comes out, she looks up every personality she’s ever had except her own. She reads their names, personas, parameters, clients, commits them all to memory. She stands in front of her mirror and tries to piece together a whole person from what the files explain. Jennifer grew up here, so she must have had this accent. Alex studied this type of dance, so she must have stood like this. The notes are detailed; there’s not much Claire has to extrapolate
( ... )
He comes to her, as he was bound to do sometime, and there’s murder in his eyes as he points that gun at her, cold and cruel. She thinks of what it would be like to die at the hands of the man who’s life she took away. How fitting it would be to have him kill her in the way she, effectively, killed him. Only she wouldn’t come back this time. There would be no return to claim back what was rightfully hers.
Still, she thinks she’d be okay with that. After all these years, the trust she’d once bestowed on him seems to have returned, even with the gun in her face, and she is okay with putting her life into his hands this one last time.
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Still, she thinks she’d be okay with that. After all these years, the trust she’d once bestowed on him seems to have returned, even with the gun in her face, and she is okay with putting her life into his hands this one last time.
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