4 years ago

The beautiful starry night mocked my heartbroken appearance, the large moon coming out just to glance upon the bloody sight. I closed my eyes, trying to block out the scene before me. My beloved uncle, Peter, lays broken and twisted in unnatural ways on the floor, not ten feet away. He was seen as a hero to our people, the specials, but here he is, laying forgotten on the dirty alley floor, hidden by garbage cans and dark shadows that swallow you whole. You would think that after everything that has happened to me in my lifetime I wouldn't let myself hope things could be normal, that everything does work out in the end. Silly me. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the raging chaos within me. One breath at a time, my eyes left the broken man on the floor, the one man I have learned to trust. I told him not to go, not to chase his anger and find the man who has made my life a living hell.

So many times have I wanted to chase after that psychopath myself, just end his life or allow him to end mine, but each time he would slip out of my fingers, smiling at me, his hollow black eyes dancing with amusement. Now that monster, Sylar, has found another way to make me writhe in pain. Taking away the one man in my life that I could trust, the man who stood by me when everything I thought I knew was shattered. My shaking legs brought me closer to the dead man on the floor, each step brought a pained gasp from my lips, my heart clenching in pain. The pain continued to grow, overwhelming my broken heart, cracking the tiny pieces of my heart into dust.

My feet stopped just inches from his dark hair that spilled across his now pale face, blood and dirt coating his skin, bruises and burns blisters his skin, large gashes drain the life out of his body, bones sticking out of the skin, his brown eyes glazed over with death. The sight was too much for my knees, they collapsed from under me landing me next to the dead man. My vision blurred as unbearable pain shot through my heart, ice starting to form in my beating heart. My beats became unsteady as the cold ice started to freeze everything inside of me; my expression froze along with the ice, draining all emotion from my broken face. I will not be the weak Claire everyone thinks I am, I will not cry although the pain in my body is shouting at me for some sort of release, instead I bottle inside, locking my emotions deep inside. A shadow appeared beside me, a heavy hand lying on my shoulder. I stare blankly at the man, my father, Noah. He has concern written all over his face, it makes me want to gag, and he stands there knowing what I have done, thinking I deserve some sort of sympathy.

I shake his hand from my shoulder, standing from the dead man, and turned away from the building crowd. They all have the same face screaming at me, concern, worry, sympathy, sadness. I don't deserve any kind of comfort from them. I might as well have killed Peter myself, I wasn't strong enough to stop him, I begged for him to stay, to not go after Sylar. It didn't work, he kissed my forehead in a quick goodbye and flew out of the window, searching for the psychopath. My father stared at me through his horn-rimmed glasses, and I couldn't help but feel nothing for this man, he was the man who told my uncle to look for Sylar. Here I go again, blaming someone else for what I have done. It has just become habit to push the blame from me and point a finger at someone else. Not for this though, I cant blame him for Peter's death, it would be such a release of pain just to push all of the blame on him, to take all responsibility off my shoulders and onto some ones awaiting shoulder. Say that Peter didn't go off to find Sylar because of me, ignore that I wasn't strong enough to keep him here, tell myself that his death in no way has bloodied my hands. All worthless lies that I could force myself to believe would just reduce the pain I feel, the pain I deserve to feel.

Why couldn't I have been the one who died, Peter was a saint, a hero, I am just the girl who gets in the way. My heart beats the unwanted life through me as I detached myself from the crowd; I looked away from my mother and father who now stare at my back with a hurt gaze. I felt myself drifting, out of my body, leaving this demon city, drifting away from this God forsaken world, leaving behind the faces of worry, from the dead man and even Claire Bennet herself. I will no longer be the fool I was before, I refuse to allow my heroes death be in vain.

As my mind started forming plans, my legs stiffly taking me away from the people behind me, my heart was screaming, desperate to he heard by my stubborn brain. It tried to convince me that I was just a child and that I didn't know better, that it wasn't my fault. I immediately squashed my hearts rebellion and continued down the dark alley allowing the pain to settle on my heart, creating chains to lock body and soul in its own cage. I refuse to feel anything but the pain I have created for myself, I will then take down Sylar and end his miserable life. Then when there is nothing to live for; I will leave this God forsaken world for good.