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Boys cruel laughter bounces back from the tree trunks multiplying in her ears. She passes the sea of green, twigs cracking under her sandals as she dashes through the maze of trees. Her sight is blurred by tears as she clutches on to the remaining scraps of her once white summer dress. The red wood panels of their stable peek behind the forest outing as she runs inside thighs burning. Wooden doors rattle with the force of her blow as she bolts the doors, shutting her assaulters outside.
The horses whinny inside their barns from the sudden disturbance. Horseshoes clicking against the floor, anxious about the noise and the clearly upset child. Scent of worn out leather and horses calm her ragged breathing as she gulps down the mix of tears and snot.
Red’s curious copper head peeks over the edge of the stall to see her master. Joyously tip-tapping her hooves in thinking she gets to go for a ride. Ugly tears fall across Claire’s pink cheeks as she approaches Red slowly. She wipes the snot on the back of her hand uncaring for the mess. The mare leans out eagerly for snuggles, sniffing Claire’s hands for any hidden treats she might have. Red’s muzzle tickles her wet cheek as she leans against her, forehead to forehead. Sense of calm washes over her while she takes in the familiar scent of her best friend.
Stroking Red’s shiny mane she pecks a kiss on her cheek. Precious moment with her mount is cut short by the rattling of the stable’s doors and a shout.
“Claire are you there? Come out”
Troy’s voice flares up the once gone angry tears. Her hands slide down Red’s muzzle before she hurries to wipe away the tears on her cheeks. Silently she sneaks closer to the tall double doors, listening closely to the whiny boy who’s outside.
It’s too silent. He must have come alone.
‘’I didn’t mean to! It was their idea.’’ He pleads claiming his innocence, desperate for her to come out. Troy needs to smooth it out otherwise his parents will surely ground him. He kicks the ground making small rocks rain against the wood.
Tying the remains of the summer dress over her bare chest with rough rope she listens to his string of lies.
‘’It wasn’t my fault!’’
“Do you want to play tomorrow?”
Wave of fury washes over her. Gritting her teeth she grabs the broom next from the shovel. The broom is huge in her tiny hands as she maneuvers closer to the double doors.
On the other side Troy sighs starting to sound bored as he squats down to peek through the small hole on the door: “Are you even there?”
She knows he’s looking, of course he is. Aiming the broom’s end to the eyehole she punches with all her might.
.:.:.
“Try and act like a proper lady for once in your life!”
It’s not my fault mother she’d like to scream. She does not want to get “acquaintanced” with Peter. Instead she bites down the sneer and rises up from the backseat of their car. Charles Hale looks her with pity but decides to say nothing to comfort his girl as he shuts the car doors. He prays both Elizabeth and Claire would act civilised as they climb the stairs to the manor.
After handing out her jacket to the valet boy she disappears into the sea of Texas socialites, eager to get away from her mother. Mother had plans for her tonight to meet some very prestigious people. The only thing she sees is a crowd swarming with dangerous men.
She excuses the ditsy girls with a fake smile. Her brain will drip out of her ears if she has to listen to Ashley for a second longer. With a poise of a queen she walks through the crowd her chin tilted upwards. Smiling charmingly to the waiter, she takes the glass of champagne making sure that mother isn’t looking.
Fuck her and fuck this party.
She hides in the bathroom of almost an hour. Her grim face stares back from the bathroom mirror. Tucking back the strands of fly-away hair of her braided up-do, she forces a smile on her face, trying to find a natural look from the mirror.
The smile shouldn’t be too cheery or forced. Definitely not beckoning or nice. She can’t stand another boring shallow conversation about the weather or her family fortune.
How much worse could things be when you have to check how to smile from the mirror.
Deciding that her plastered on facial expression is authentic enough to fool everyone, she leaves the bathrooms. The hallway is terribly dark as she heads down the hall towards the ballroom. She can hear the band play as she saunters closer. As she’s about to round the corner, out of the blue the senator collides with her.
‘’Oh I’m terribly sorry Sir.‘’
She apologizes immediately recognizing him. His hand is at her shoulder as he leers at her: “Don’t worry about it. You’re Claire Hale, daughter of Elizabeth right?”
He reeks of alcohol, breathing puffing against her face as he leaves no space between them. She nods leaning back as far as she physically can from him and forces a smile on her face. Ready to make an excuse and sneak out of the awkward conversation.
Instead giving her a turn to speak he continues to mumble: “Who would have thought that you’d grow out to be such a beauty.”
Her stomach turns with his words. He steps closer until she’s trapped between his massive frame and the wall, unable to sneak past him. Her heartbeats stop when his hand finds the edge of her blue dress and starts to climb upwards, caressing her bare thigh. She’s frozen in place like her heart has stopped beating, instead of a flesh she’s made of stone. It’s an out of body experience, she’s not the girl under his body. It must be someone else.
‘’Claire?!’’
His hands fall from her bare thigh as quickly as they got there from the shrill sound of Elizabeth Hale. Suffocating weight pushes away from Claire seconds before Elizabeth marches through the doorway.
Her heart is at her throat. Face washed out white with fear.
‘’There you are. ‘’ Her mother’s sugary fake smile makes Claire nauseous as she beams to the senator.
‘’I’m sorry Mr. Mason but I have to steal Claire for a while. I have to introduce her to Derek.’’
‘’Don’t worry Elizabeth. I understand. You have a very charming daughter. Takes after her mother.‘’
She could throw up. Her head is still humming, legs locked in place from the shock. It takes Elizabeth’s tight grip on her arm to finally pull her away from the hallway.
For the rest of the evening she can feel the senator’s eyes burning against her back. Downing the fourth glass of champagne she fakes a laugh to another Peter’s dry jokes, trying to keep herself busy from thinking about what happened.
Sometimes she still sees nightmares about him.
.:.:.
Bloodied sheets sit rumbled in the corner. Dust has gathered over the picture frame of her and Red veiling her smile in grey. She wishes she could move from the floor.
.:.:.
She thought it would be different. It’s not.
They leer at her more openly than ever. It’s the sense of power that’s making them hungry. Hubris blinding them from the realities of the world. Life at D.C reminds her of a savanna, full of predators and prey gathering together on the same pond, sizing each other up, deciding who gets to go first.
She overhears the conversation by accident while waiting for Francis’ arrival to the opera. Hearing Francis’ name peeks her interest. Leaning her head towards the crowd she eavesdrops on them from behind the grande stone pilar.
“But how did a guy like Frank manage to get a woman like her? You’ve seen her right.”
“She’s a tight piece of ass let me tell ya.”
“I’d love to sink my cock in her.”
“Oh don’t talk about my friends wife like that. You don’t even know her. She’s a real treasure.”
“And boys I’m after that booty.”
The congressmen’s hushed laughter multiplies hitting the marble as her eyes roll back on her head. Foolish men. Now she knows better to inform Shanon during the intermission that her husband is a first class prick.
She wanted to believe it would all be over at this level.
Finally her husband walks through the grande doors, flakes of snow creating a stark contrast against his dark suit. Heels click against the marble floor as she struts to him passing the group. Snow melts under her fingers as she pulls Francis close to her. Pressing her lips next to Francis ear she winks at the group behind them and whispers whimsically:
“Let’s make them suffer.”
.:.:.
She doesn’t care about the way their new driver stares at her when he thinks she doesn’t notice. He’s awkward around her, his schoolboy crush on her is more irritating than cute.
Even after years of service she can’t stand the way he looks at her with pity in his eyes. He lives in a world where she is a princess to be saved from the big bad corruptor that is Frank Underwood. It’s a sign of how little he sees about her, the real her.
Getting the call made her queasy. She wants to respect his wishes, he’s a dying man after all, bringing him a fresh bouquet of flowers and offering her ear before he leaves this world.
What she didn’t expect was for him to start spouting his unrequited love for her seconds after his wife of 15 years has left the room. Or his deep running hate towards Francis and his belief of being a better man for her. Word after word that leaves his dry lips makes her pity the dying man even more. Needing to break Steve out of his fantasy he has crafted of her, she decides he deserves to know the truth. She violates him like in the past they have violated her.
She’s not delicate. She’s not good.
Is this what you hoped it would be?
.:.:.
Zoe’s hair feels soft under her fingertips as they slide down the length of her hair. Her beautiful brown eyes are wide with fear as she’s forced to look up to meet Claire’s steely eyes. Claire can feel her shiver between the wall and her lithe body. Zoe thinks she has come to her because she’s angry about the affair and wants them to stop. How wrong could she be.
He can fuck her as much as he pleases.
Zoe’s pouty lips feel soft as she bows down to kiss her. Her hand digs through her thick hair pulling her closer. Leaning away from the trembling girl she stares her down.
‘’I think you should leave.’’ She whispers after seconds of gathering her voice.
‘’I think I should too.’’
Long fingers brush out of Zoe’s hair as she steps away. The clicking of her heels fading away as she descends the stairs to the empty street.
Maybe Washington is starting to get to her.
.:.:.