Something I wrote to showcase Claire's darker side, which doesn't happen as often as it should.
She hadn’t set out to kill him. She really hadn’t.
He’d brought it on himself, however, when he mentioned her mother.
As she cleaned what remained of his remains off her knives, she couldn’t help but replay his last moments before her own memory had gone blessedly blank.
The room was concrete, cold and dank, marred by stains of god only knew what. Fluorescent lights lined the ceiling in academic rows, but only one actually provided a decent amount of light. The smell of mold an urine filled her nose, but Claire was decidedly unconcerned with her surroundings. It was free of witnesses, and that was all that mattered. Her vision was obstructed by sticky, bloody hair, but her face was clean and her focus on a man in the center of the room. He, too, was bloodied, broken legs supported by a rickety chair to which he was firmly tied. A racking cough shook his frame and he spit blood onto the floor as Claire pulled out one of her larger knives.
“I knew your family, you bitch,” he hissed.
“That’s not quite the intelligence I’m after.”
A wet sounding laugh bubbled from the man’s throat, followed by another bout of hacking. Once he could speak again, he smirked, a gruesome sight considering his recent lack of teeth. “You remind me of your mother.”
“I mean, if I’m gonna die anyway, you might as well have someone tell you you’re batshit just like her.”
Silence filled the small space between them, suddenly interrupted by Claire’s burst of laughter. She leaned down in front of him so their faces were level. “No, you wouldn’t have died. Only suffered.” The knife in her hand landed heavily on his thigh, flat of the blade smacking his flesh. No one compared her to her mother. She was not the Lady. She would never be the Lady. She’d spent her whole life being anything but the Lady. And just because this man, this target met her once, he thought he knew her. That pissed her off.
She didn’t want to remember this. Biting her tongue, she tasted that first drop of iron laden blood and closed her eyes, letting out a sigh before flashing a disturbing smile. The knife tip traced up his leg, digging into the already torn flesh. Claire ignored the screams and stood, leveling the blade with his neck.
“But you’ll die now.”