A week had passed since the drama which had occurred at the Christmas Ball; despite the time that had passed, Clarissa couldn’t stop the images which continued to plague her mind. The flashes of images were intense and realistic - even in her dreams, she felt she was living the moment over and over again, however, at times, she welcomed them; she believed she deserved them after what had happened to Siobhan. In the days that had passed, she relied on alcohol a lot more to comfort her in ways another person couldn’t – it would numb her, send her into a state of oblivion and gave her hope that on some occasions she could have a night sleep without her normal night terrors as well as the new ones which seemed to plague her. During the times in which the alcohol and taken full control over her; she was unaware of those around her – she barely remembered inviting Siobhan back to hers on the evening the violent act occured but whether she was still around in her apartment, she couldn’t be sure. Clarissa would hear noises of plates clashing, of water running and faint singing at times; but she believed it would be another hallucination.

The Nephilim when able to stand would stumble over to her homemade gym, where she would work out and attempt to practice her combat when intoxicated. Her moves continued to be sloppy, but the training was necessary. “Stupid Assassin’s League never taught me this” Her mumbled words were slurred as she looked at the punch bag, she would bring one leg up to aim a high kick to what would be an individual’s neck before her body found the ground again. Clarissa dusted her hands down on her gym leggings once more before standing; she would hear the faint footsteps in the other room; all things considering, what she did see of Siobhan, she seemed to be handling it a lot better than herself.  This routine happened daily, and each day she didn’t see an improvement in her skills.

Over the week, Clarissa kept well clear from Cornelia, the venom coated words remained sour upon her tongue and the idea of apologising for such an act, well. She just couldn’t do it – she couldn’t swallow her pride just yet to admit that she was wrong.

~~~

Clarissa had finished her session with her punch bag; sweat glistened upon her exposed stomach, collar bones and arms as her sports bra and leggings darkened in colour. She could feel the soberness creeping in and knew it was time to continue her habit; allowing her hand to run across the wall to retain her balance, she headed back into the kitchen to grab another beer. As she got closer, she could hear faint voices coming from the one room which provided her solace which made her brows furrow in confusion. She didn’t try to decode the words which were whispered between the two; yet she knew who the voices belonged to – Cornelia and Siobhan. Closing her more vibrant lavender specked eyes, she exhaled and tried to walk confidently into the kitchen, aiming straight for the fridge without muttering a single hello yet she knew it wouldn’t last – she knew they would bombard her about her behaviour and what actually went down that evening.