Fuck You, and Your Manners
“We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey.”
– Kenji Miyazawa
_____________
Clarke aimlessly washed off the table that stood in front of her. It had been a pretty busy day at the diner, but she could barely get out of her own thoughts.
"Clarke! Get the order to table three now, seriously, what is up with you today?” Her boss boomed from across the diner.
The tables around her grew silent as curious eyes turned to Clarke. This had been the third time today she had gotten off track. Granted, the first two times it was acknowledged were a bit nicer. This time was probably well deserved. Clarke snapped up quickly, running to the counter, picking up the two steaming plates. "Sorry James." She muttered, passing her glaring boss to the table in waiting.
She needed to get a grip. And fast.
______________
Hours had passed and the diner had closed for the night but Clarke still felt like she was separated from reality. The only things she could think about were school, bills and her mom. Her mom.
God.
Clarke let out a sigh as she packed up for the day, snapping the lock back onto her locker. Could today get any longer?
She heard someone clear their throat behind her. "Clarke?"
The answer to that question was ultimately, yes .
Clarke spun around to see her boss, James, standing in the doorway in front of her. "Yea, James?"
The older man looked toward the ground, sighing loudly before looking back at her. "Listen, Clarke.” he exhaled, licking his lips before continuing. “I have to let you go, I know you need to help your mom and everything, but things aren't going well. Everyday it's like you're less and less here."
Clarke stared at him with a blank face as he stood waiting for a reaction.
She felt her jaw clench tightly. She wanted to be angry, or cry even. But she knew the only person she had to be angry at was herself. And she didn't need that right now.
She didn't need any of this right now. She was to tired. She needed this job now more than ever, there was only so much she could do on her own and her mom’s condition was not where near better.
She had weeks of bags under her eyes and her skin seemed to get paler by the second. Clarke was a walking zombie.
James opened his mouth to speak but Clarke cut him off. “Listen, I get it.” She snapped. “You don't need to sugar coat it.”
His frown deepened immensely. He looked disappointed, but that was a look she was used to getting. They stared at each other for a moment before the man let out another exasperated sigh. His eyes softened once they made eye contact again. He looked like he had more to say, but it was obvious he was tired of trying. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he turned to walk into the anointing room. “I'll mail you your last paycheck. I wish you the best of luck, Griffin."
Fury-filled tears threatened to spill as Clarke turned back to her locker. She quickly grabbed everything from inside, stuffing it into her bag before rushing out of the diner. She wanted to cry so badly, but she couldn't. More than anything she just wanted to scream into the nothingness she felt she was trapped in. She hurried down the dimly lit street to the bus stop before her shoulder crashed into another solid mass.
"Seriously? Watch where you're going, I have expensive equipment here." said an irritated voice.
Clarke wanted to look at the person who she just assaulted with her shoulder, but instead she continued down the street without saying a word. She couldn't speak. Everything about her felt trapped.
“What? No manners?"
Clarke’s anger bubbled to the surface as she quickly whipped around to meet her accuser. "Fuck you and your manners."
Her blue eyes caught the fierce green ones in front of her. They belonged to a girl with long brunette hair, a beat up leather jacket and a camera slung around her neck. Clarke could barely focus. Did she just do that? Clarke didn't mean to insult her, but at this point, all morals were out the window.
The girl wore a deep scowl on her face, pursing her lips as they made eye contact. She opened her mouth like she was about to say something else before Clarke swiftly turned her back on her and continued down the street - ignoring the final remarks of the girl she had just accidentally attacked.
Clarke was certain every aspect about today had it out for her. With each step forward, she grew more and more tired. Everything was all wrong.
How was she going to help pay her mom's medical bills without a job? How was any of this going to work? Those questions kept racing through her mind.
Years of constant stress that had been bottled up started to push its way to the surface. It hit Clarke all at once like a brick wall. Tears broke their way past her defenses and quickly ran down her face. Suddenly, she was crying about everything from the past 15 years. She was so tired and most of all she was lost. She felt so helpless.
Blinking back her violent tears, she noticed her vision starting to fade and despite barely being able to see no more than five feet in front of her - she continued walking. Clarke started to feel like the walls of her throat were closing in on her. Gasping, knees buckling and head spinning, she kept moving. How? She did not know. The only thing she knew was that she need help. All she could see was the dim light coming from the post of the bus stop.
“Help-”
All of a sudden, she felt the cool sidewalk against her cheek. Her entire body tingled and as weird as it sounded, she felt at peace.
“Fuck! Hey, are you okay? Wake up. Wake up!” Screamed the newly familiar voice.
She was consumed by darkness.