D7 ♔ { Claire Partridge } ♔ DONE

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fourteen | female | district seven | Wicked Child[/size][/font]


This life it's just a place in my mind
Through the window I find I can stop time
'Cause dreams are crawling all over my head,
And you have those beautiful eyes, but I am a wicked child[/font][/size][/center]

d o n ' t ♔ t o s s ♔ m e ♔ a w a y
appearance

He gave me a promise. With his hot kisses that ignited my skin like fire to a forgotten meadow, he whispered promises sweeter than the most sugared of honeys and empty as the heart I was foolish enough to believe beat within him.

He promised to shower me in gold, enough to immerse myself entirely in and mute the austere attacks of the outside world. Enough to wash away each of my sins. He promised me enough porcelain to bring the envious moon to tears, enough flawless white to throw her laughable, blemished self into the ocean in dishonor. He promised me strings and strings of pearls, enough for the seas to wage savage war on one another in desperate scrutiny for what once gave them value and allure. And he promised me gemstones, sapphires so true no wave nor sky could ever hope to compare, so large he’d have to lend me his strength to hold them in my hands.

But his promises were as real as a child’s closeted monster, and he left before the lonely sun could leak into my eyes, all too haughty at having me wake up alone.

But I wasn’t alone at all. I had it, growing within me, feeding on every happy memory I wanted to share with him, on every fanatical wish that seemed just at fingertips length away mere hours before.

He lied. It wasn’t gold at all, but rather yellowed copper threads that hung from its crown in pathetic gracelessness. Her skin was not the immaculate white like that of fine china, but a sick absence of color, stark and unnatural as school chalk. If she hid my pearls in her mouth I would never had known, because I left before her first tooth. I’m a monster, you say?! How could I stay? I wanted my riches and you gave me a plague, a famine on my youth and beauty. You promised me jewels! Jewels that would shroud the world in darkness, shining so brilliantly the sun would be forced to turn away! But you gave me leech?! Her eyes were no gemstones! Just dull and lifeless pools, shallow and unfeeling. Even when I cradled her in my arms, trying so hard to love a leech in my life, she was thousands of miles away, and would not let me in. Just like you.

h e a d ♔ i n ♔ t h e ♔ c l o u d s
personality

Claire is ours.

She came to us like a broken blessing, as our answer to prayers we chanted so many times they lost their meaning; just becoming an aimless mesh of consonants burnt unto our tongues. We had been praying, waiting patiently, for our Claire to come along. And we will never let her go.

There are plenty of other children in the house. They have enough! Claire is ours, and we are hers. She needn't anyone else. We remind her constantly, for so often does she forget. How we are enough, we are all she needs. How cruel children can be, and how forgiving we are. For what is there to forgive? Claire can do no wrong.

As long as she listens to us, however. As long as she remembers to keep away from the other children. For we are a very jealous sort. We do not like it when Claire leaves us for others, no we do not. It rather angers us.

And we cannot be responsible for our actions when we are angered. We cannot be responsible if we are to push her little friends down a flight of steps, can we? We cannot be held responsible should we run with scissors right into their necks. We cannot be blamed should we hold a pillow over their cherubic sleeping faces as their shrieks are muffled by lace and their limbs give their last pathetic attempts at a fight for such a wasted life. We cannot be given blame, for we told Claire to not play with the other children.

And we've trained her well. She developed an expertise at pushing the outsiders away. Horrific tantrums and violent cries keep anyone remotely interested in the Partridge Doll at bay.

Sometimes, we can see, she is deluded. She has these horrid fits, that she doesn't want this life anymore? That she tires of being controlled and coerced by us to do our bidding? Claire dear doesn't understand that our bidding is her bidding. That without her, we could not live. But without us, she is nothing. We are the only ones in this world who will ever love her.

For we are her dolls.

And Claire is ours.

p r i s o n ♔ I ♔ c a n ' t ♔ l e a v e
history

Ladies? She asked gingerly, as if asking us any more aggressively would shatter our very porcelain skin to dust. We all gave her our painted and glazed attention, Yes Claire? Miss Partridge-- You talked to Miss Partridge without one of us present? You know how we feel about you conversing with outsiders, Claire. Especially without one of us present-- I know, I'm sorry, but-- Claire I was not finished! (...) Don't you ever interrupt me again, do you hear me? ....yes, Marceline. We cannot stand interruption. It angers us, and you don't like it when we get angry, do you Claire? ....no, Clementi-- Now, what did Miss Partridge want of you?

And our dear little Claire began to fidget. At fourteen she had another spurt of growth, and we all took notice of it. She was losing her childish figure, distancing herself from us whilst she slept. Her hands had grown longer than most of our limbs, she began towering above us. Looking down upon us in more ways than one.

She said... she... Claire, come now. Out with it. You can tell us. She said that I'm too old to play with dolls. That I should try and converse with... w-with the others, more. ....and what did you say, Claire? ...nothing. You said... nothing? I wasn't sure what I coul-- See Claire? This is why you take at least one of us everywhere you go! So we could have told you what to say! See why we don't converse with outsiders? They want to tear you away from us! They don't understand what an unlovable little girl you are! They don't understand that without us, you have nothing! No one! Before us you had nothing but your name and your dress on your shoulders.

Don't you see that opening that box in the attic was fate? That finding us, all thirty of us, waiting patiently for you, Claire, was meant to be? We were shut away, and you were impossible to love. But now you can feel love, Claire. From us. We love you, Claire.

....maybe, if I talked to the others--

See there you go again! "Talking to the outsiders"! "Talking to outsiders"! We told you: it's. Not. Safe. Don't delude yourself with "maybe"s and "if"s. We are telling you now, we will love you forever, Claire.

But maybe, if you let me speak with them. Play with them and such, they could learn to love m--

Oh Claire, Claire, Claire, Claire. Our precious little dove, don't you see? No one but us could ever love you, you're an unlovable child. You're a wicked child.

(...)

Now Claire, don't cry! They truth is never pretty, but you are, and we are. Now, let's have some tea. No more talk of the outsiders. Remember: we're all you'll ever need.

Now with my head in the clouds
I'll sit here and burn, I will burn
Save me, I'm not crazy,
I just fell through the ground
And now things are upside down

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