digital producer/freelance photographer/dance floor comandeer-er, living in sydney. http://www.cinnamonpeeler.tumblr.com http://instagram.com/sophielroberts
Claire just shakes her head and laughs. “What do you want me to do? Cry?”
…t least show me that she cared — if Rob abused her. Within hours of fleeing my grandmother’s house, Claire made a hard, subconscious calculus: she could survive, and maybe enable me to survive too, but only if she cast off emotional responsibility, only if she refused to take on how anything or anybody felt.
… — so she could present herself to anybody, anywhere, as a smart, enterprising young woman, period. She asked no pity, no permission. She was a fact of life, an equal. Nobody needed to know more.