Lunch with Claire

You are acutely aware of every limb in your body. A serenade of a western wind smoothly tickles your ear through the broken bedroom window. You're wide awake, and for the first time in so long... you don't know what to do. You don't have an exit plan.
What is it you're trying to do here?

"Hey Jess." Claire interrupts your thoughts: "I'm a bit hungry. Would you like some food?"

"Yeah." you say quietly.

You both get up from the bed. Claire rushes over to you, to make sure you can stand up properly this time. You only lean slightly against her, not wanting to overwhelm her and thereby tip yourself over.
After balancing on your feet for a couple of seconds, Claire sees that you are fine for now, and lets go of you. You make it to the dining table. It's a humble affair. The dining room is really just the corner of the kitchen. The decor is rustic and rudimentary, and you can see that Claire's parents weren't exactly wealthy. It doesn't bother you though. You used to live in a tent after all.

"I don't have a whole lot of nice food." Claire mentions somberly.

"I've eaten things that are way worse than whatever is in your cupboards." you shrug.

"Are you okay with more wheat porridge? The trader carriage hasn't been here in a while, and it's the only thing I have that hasn't spoiled." she asks.

"Anything is fine, Claire." you grunt.

"O-okay. It will only take a couple of minutes to heat." she says as she ignites the firewood in the stove. She mixes some wheat and some water and starts to heat it up.

Claire hums a little tune as she makes the very basic food. She gets out a bag of sugar and a package of salt, and starts mixing the different things. You just sit at the table, completely silent.
After a little while she is done. You start eating.
It's primitive and quite boring, but it's sustenance and it's free, so you have no good reason or even a bad one to turn it down. The kitchen is filled with the sound of the tree spoons scraping against the clay bowls, and the smacking of lips as the two of you taciturnly eat the slush.
After a little while, you can faintly hear Claire trying to start up a conversation:

"H-hey Jess?" she asks as if she needs permission to chat.

You don't say anything. You just tilt your head upwards, and make eye contact to signal that she has your attention.

"Have..." Claire asks hesitantly: "Have you... ever... killed someone?"

The question catches you off-guard. Taking into account what she's gone trough, it's not really surprising that she is thinking about ****. But the timing seems off. This must be really weighing on her mind.

"Yes." you reply. Your answer comes out more solemnly than you had expected.

"Oh." she reels back.

A silence haunts the kitchen for a little while. After about half a minute Claire builds up the courage to ask another question.

"Why?" she asks.

"Raiders." you start: "They came into the orc camp I was a part of. The one northwest of here and th-"

"You were a part of that camp?" Claire interrupts surprised. Wait, there's history between your old camp and this town? That's news to you. Another question for another time.

"Yes." you answer: "The raiders crept into it at night and wanted to loot our food storage. I heard them and pursued. They were a bunch of malnourished and hungry deer-people. They ran away as fast as they could. One twisted his leg, and before I could even think about what I was doing, I clobbered him with a rock I had picked up. A deer-woman saw me do it, and she recoiled in fear. She didn't move. It was like she couldn't move. So she just stood there. And so was I. I was just standing there, looking at the dead body."

Claire looks at you intently. It almost looks like she is about to cry.

"What did the other orcs say?" she asks.

"Nothing." you answer: "They never knew. I buried the body and the sandy food he carried a little bit to the south of the camp, and went back to my tent and acted like I knew nothing of the missing supplies."

"How old were you?" she asks.

"Fifteen." you answer: "And it's been almost fifteen years since then. Soon I will have lived with this longer than I have lived without."

"Didn't you feel terrible?" she asks again. You've never really told anyone about this. It's a strange sensation.

"It's an odd thing really." you mutter: "That man will never have kids, never settle down, never see his children grow up and make him proud, never retire to a quiet life, never find peace. He took something from me, and therefore I took everything he would ever have."

Claire looks down into her empty bowl, unsure of what to say. You can't really find it in your heart to blame her. She sniffles a bit, most likely thinking about her parents.

"I don't know what you think of me." you say as you get up: "But I think it's for the best that you do less of it. I'm sorry about the broken window and the broken bowl. I'll fix it once I get better. After that I will leave this town... and I won't be back."

"NO!" Claire yells after you, and you stop dead in your tracks: "I-I-I won't let you leave. I still have to p-pay you back for all you've done for me."

Claire gets up from her chair and walks hurriedly towards you. She is physically shaking, her wide eyes focused but teary. Her slim lips trembling, her small fingers quivering. You can see that it takes a lot of courage for her to talking back at you. Still, you need to crush her affection.

"I've done nothing you should repay. If someone does something for you without expecting anything in return, you should get as much out of that as possible."

"No, you should pay it back in kind. You should try to be good to the people who does good." Claire argues.

"Stop being a child!" you snap: "You need to face the reality of the prairie. Your parents are dead due to the cruelty of this goddamned desert. Any other day, any other circumstance, I could have been the one to pull the trigger that did them in."

Claire looks like she is reaching her breaking point. She crouches down to the floor, hugging her legs, rocking slightly back and forth, and starts to mutter frantic phrases to herself. You only catch bits and pieces of what she says:

"I can't do this alone.""Help me.""Say something.""I'm sorry, mom."

Your first inclination is to just leave the froggy girl to her own frenzy. This is, after all, not really your problem. You can't and shouldn't solve any dilemma you cause, unless they will have a direct effect of your survival. You should just leave. You should just leave. You should really just go outside of that door, get some fresh air, and focus on getting away from this shit-hole. You should just leave.

Why can't you leave?

You look at the pitiful display of a panicked girl. A girl who has lost everything and has moved all of that attachment to you. Affection no one else can hold. And you have rejected it. You have, haven't you?
You close your eyes. You clench your fists. You take deep solid breaths. You convince yourself... of what you don't know, but it's something that's hard for you to accept.
You move over to Claire. You sit straight down on your ass, your legs spread so that Claire is in between them. You tenderly put your hand on the back of her head, and gently guides it into your chest. Claire curls her entire body into yours, and she immediately begins to cry her little heart out. It echoes in the entire house. You keep your hand on her head, and you move the other to her back. You pull her tight into an embrace of sorts while you let her cry it out.
You don't say anything you just hold her.

You can see a figure move from behind the door frame to the kitchen. It's Emily. You have no idea how long she has been there or how much she has heard. That's something you need to ask her some time, but not right now. She gives you a solemn smile.

"The sheriff said that she wanted to meet you when you got out and about. She is in her office." she says in a very low and soothing tone of voice.

You doubt that Claire heard anything or is even aware of Emily's presence. She just keeps crying into your shoulder.
You give Emily a nod in understanding, and she quietly moves away from the door, leaving you alone once again with the crying teenager.
You still don't know what it is you're trying to do here, but you have no intention to see the sheriff... at least not for a little while.