Fan Fiction ❯ Seasons: A Good Charlotte Fan Fiction ❯ Messages ( Chapter 1 )
ok, Claire is my friend who wrote this(MARY-SUE!), just so you know...and the name like this :*Claire* means it's from her POV..please review kindly, so my friend can feel happy!^_^
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Drama / Romance / Angst | Type: Self Insertion | Uploaded On: 02.19.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 570 | Visits: 351 | Status: Completed
Seasons
A Good Charlotte Fan Fiction
†Chapter One†
*Claire*
"You have ten new messages!" her answering machine piped up. "Oh God ...." she retorted, "What does he have to say now?" Claire leaned up against up counter and meekly toyed with a dish cloth that was laid there.
"Message one, Tuesday, 11:30 PM!" cried out the machine. "Why does this thing have to sound so fucking happy?" she thought. The machine beeped and then his voice filled the room.
"Claire, what the FUCK do you mean `WE'RE OVER'? It was an ACCIDENT, OK?"
She listened to all nine messages afterwards with the very last one sounding like he was almost to the point of crying. "Well good! Maybe you should cry!" After all, he had made her a promise he would never do that.
Claire suddenly realized she was holding her breath. "No, I do NOT miss him!" Trying to take her mind off things, she turned around and began to vigorously scrub a plate from the sink encrusted with last weeks spaghetti still clinging to it. The same spaghetti dinner they had shared just last weekend. "You have to quit thinking about him! It's over! DONE!" But no matter what she did, Claire just couldn't take her mind off him. Everything reminded her of him, and it didn't help that half his belongings were still in her possession.
The house was a complete mess. In a usually spotless kitchen, there were dishes from last week still in the sink, papers strewn throughout the living room, candle wax on the dining room table from the dinner on Sunday, bed un-made, and clothing strewn everywhere. A week ago, this house would have been organized and rearranged so perfect, it would have made some people sick.
But Claire had given up all hope on it now, since there was no point in living a life that was like a hell hole, or what seemed to be like one.
Finally, she couldn't take it. She needed to sleep. Sleep was one thing that always made her feel better .... until she woke up, anyway. Trudging up the winding staircase, she remembered how they used to slide down the banisters on days when there was nothing to do. But there she was thinking about him again.
She twisted the doorknob to her room and stared at the state of it. But the bed was the only thing she needed right now. She collapsed on to it and fell into a turbulent sleep.