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[color=transparent]claire loves u!
[align=center][size=9pt]CLAUDIA MONTEIRO
SO I FALL INTO CONTINENTS AND CARS, ALL THE STAGES AND THE STARS ･✧ |
The basement is packed—all the members of their little “gang,” or the group of them at St. Petersburg Academy who have flocked together for one reason or another. Some of them dating, others friends, others friends of friends, whoever they all are in relation to each other, everyone’s breathing in the same weed smoke and passing the joints around like candy. Claudia’s never really had a group of friends, but she supposes whatever their little ragtag group of students is will probably be the closest she’s ever going to get.
She has her backpack at her side, a binder and a couple pencils having been thrown haphazardly in before she had left to come here. She doesn’t really know why she brought it; she always tells herself that she’ll go to the basement, maybe ask someone smarter than her like Elijah or Jane for help with whatever she had spent three hours trying to decode that day, and she never ends up doing it. School is important to her, but after a certain point, she’s found herself incapable of caring about it anymore.
They’ve all been here a little while now; probably a couple hours at least, and without needing to check her phone, she already knows it’s probably past midnight. “I might head out soon; I don’t wanna wake up still high,” she jokes, adjusting her legs underneath her from her position on the loose mattress that’s sitting on the ground. Before she can start to get up, though, the lights in the room start to flicker.
Claudia can feel her heart stop, and she’s ready to brush it off before it gets quicker and quicker. “Um, what the fuck...?” she says loudly, looking around wildly for a friend she can lock eyes with and try to calm herself down, but the flickering lights don’t allow her much time to make out faces. Before she can say anything else, she catches sight of movement across the room, coming directly towards her; she screams a little over dramatically and moves to grab the shoulders of the person two feet away from her on the mattress, hiding behind them. When she looks up, she sees a vintage, boxy television, crashed right into the spot where her head had been moments before and lying broken on the ground.
She feels ready to cry, but her voice only trembles slightly when she speaks up again. “No fucking way. I’m done. We gotta leave,” she says, her words coming out quicker than she meant them to.
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