Wow. Um it's really difficult discussing my time with Clarice. I mean anyone smarter than a fifth grader would know me and her aren't exactly on the best of terms. I mean how can you properly care for someone when they hurt you so much? And by hurt I don't mean your typical girl breaks boy's heart. I mean my heart was literally punctured by the sword of Shinigami. It's a moment in my life I don't like talking about, but I did die. I perished right before her precious eyes, only to be resurrected moments later. And I hate her with this passion. Maybe I shouldn't but I do. She was this sweet girl that had so much damn potential, but wasted every opportunity thrown her way. It's sad to know someone who could have been admirable became irredeemable instead.
I was twelve. Yes, twelve years old. It seems like the most profound and defining moment in my life was exactly twelve years ago, but I rather not over analyze this story. It's quite simply really. After being neglected by the Court of Arcani, my mother, Cassandra Addams took me on a special visit. Where did she take me? I'm not quite sure, but I do know I had to wear the most uncomfortable clothing ever possibly sewn. Nevertheless the purpose of this meeting was actually pretty blunt - I was meeting my arranged wife. Turns out my family self made organization, not associated with Arcani, had taken upon Third World country customs.
Her name was Clarice Michelle Zeraz and she looked so fragile. It was so awkward. I was twelve...she was fourteen, but like a really short fourteen. My voice wasn't even manly yet and she wasn't exactly developed, yes I was pretentious even then. Regardless I knew her Greek heritage would blossom a beautiful woman and she never did make fun of my serious lack of suaveness and superiority complex so I thought she was a keeper (As most elders would say). I think we connected the moment I said I was a mutant, a super cool mutant. In hindsight the signs were all there, an underlying wanting to be something she was not meant to be.
What do I mean? I mean Clarice isn't a mutant nor ever was. Her hatred for the race stems from her inability to be born with the gift nor have the gene within her ancestry. For years on end my days would be consumed by her ramblings. How she could tell if someone was mutant or not. How she knew mutants and humans would wage war one day. How aliens exist but no one's concerned about them. It annoyed me. It did. I didn't understand why the multi-million dollar heiress to Zeraz Industries would even care about genetics and stuff. I knew I was a mutant, I knew I was cool, and I was pretty much content. I never did voice my disdain, because it was her hobby....and I didn't like hurting her feelings. It was bad enough she lost her mother at a young age. I couldn't take away something she held onto so dearly, but nowadays I think I should have torn her away before it was too late.
You see Clarice's addiction got worse. She started hallucinating, claiming she could talk to spirits, walk the astral realm, and that she'd be given the gift of power if she did as they wished. I was eighteen...she was twenty one. We had just taken our first break after a serious fight so I didn't pay much mind. She left to the Knightfall Sanctum....I left for the army. Years later I returned. The girl I once loved had become a woman I repulsed. Clarice had become what she said she'd never be - her father.
Manipulative. Verbally abusive. Brash. Insatiable.
The spirits she talked too were off Shinigami's satanic culture. And because of them she became a reality warper. A hollow victory it was. Her hatred for mutants? Her hatred for Knightfalls? They have no weight. I know a mutant struck down her mother. I know Jayden Knightfall wasn't a holy man. However, it gave her no right to play a malicious God. For years she's inserted herself in the lives of multiple, trying her very best to make herself seem important in the eyes of those who don't matter. And when the opportunity strikes, for her dreams to come trues, Clarice secedes from fulfillment. She runs away from content. She's afraid of not wanting. She's petrified of being....happy.
Even through it all I feel for her. I feel for that sweet girl I once knew...who just wanted a friend, who just wanted to have one special thing no one else had. I loved that girl. I loved her so damn much. Sometimes I thought I could have been that one special thing, but maybe that was far too vain. Sometimes I wonder if things could have been different hadn't let her live in this fantasy world. Sometimes I like to think we could still be happy....if she gave life another chance, but I won't think that thought no more. It's a false hope. A hope that'll never come true.
Clarice may never know happiness, but that's no one's fault but her own.