So it sounded kinda bad when I said it out loud. Like I really was going to dye my perfect hair and start shooting everyone. So I started to cry ’cause that always works with dad. She stopped the heat wave and tried to get all motherly and sympathetic. “Ahm sorry Claire,” She drawled. “I did it because ah caaare about you…” And I went “Get off of me psycho, you’re not my mom,” It made no sense, but it sounded good right before I stormed off.
So I stole Dad’s box, brushed Lou away (he wouldn’t understand) and got started. And you know, I think I’ll be ok. If worse comes to worse I can use the box as a house like I said I would the last few times I threatened to run away…
So like I said, I’ve got it made. I have a super nice box, a half a gallon of gas, and some of Uncle Super Cute Peter’s black clothes and rusty razors until I find Sylar and make him fix me so I can feel pain again and at least go back to pretending to be normal. I would hate to go psycho, screw up my hair and start smashing little kids, you know?
It sounds crazy, but it all starts with the black clothes and emo personality for me. So I’m gonna fix it, even if I have to sleep in a box and sell company secrets for gasoline and for a road map ’cause I kinda forgot to bring one… Anyway. Whatever.
good for you girl!
Your bio-Mom knows how to make a Petrelli run from her. I should know…Other than that…um Don’t kill people that is bad and the Lord has rules against it.