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Claire jumps. She’s been doing that a lot lately. It was only a branch against the window. For a second, it had sounded an awful lot like a raptor claw, tap, tap, tapping. The indoraptor’s face emerges in her brain, the feeling of the claw pushing into her thigh. The scar throbs as if on cue. She presses a hand hard against it and attempts to calm her heart. It’s a poor attempt, the beating is pounding in her chest.
PTSD was a buzzword they’d thrown around after the initial collapse of Jurassic World. People spoke about it constantly.
“Don’t be surprised by PTSD.”
“Don’t be afraid if you experience symptoms of PTSD.”
“PTSD will probably feature in the rest of your life.”
Every time someone new said it, Claire resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It felt as though everyone had been on wikipedia, searching up ‘traumatic events and their aftermath’. It didn’t feel like a real thing, like something she would actually associate with her life. But a couple days after the incident, the nightmares had started, with the panic attacks following close by.
In the first dream, Claire had been back on the island, surrounded by screams and roars. She put her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut but it hadn’t helped. The sounds pierced through her, ripping her core apart. She had opened her eyes, trying to find Owen, but instead looked up just in time to see Gray being torn to pieces. His howls of pain ripped her skin to shreds, blood flowing out her ears. Then Zach appeared, squaring up to her, yelling. Everything was her fault. Why did she sign off on the creation of the new dinosaur? Why did she let people go inside its cage? Why did she invite her nephews to visit when she was too busy to see them? Things Zach had never asked her before but she knew he was thinking. She knew they were all thinking them. That was when Owen appeared. For a second, relief washes over her. Her shoulders relax and she lets out a sigh, until the Indomius Rex arrives. That’s their cue to run. But instead, Claire’s feet become glued to the spot. She can only watch as Owen sprints off, leaving her in the dust.
That’s when she woke up. Right before she was about to be eaten. The sounds of her screams were what roused her. Her throat was raw, her cheeks were tear stained. She had tried to breathe, but the air couldn’t escape, getting hitched in her chest. She hadn’t known what to do, she’d never experienced anything like it before. She grabbed her phone and, before she could talk herself out of it, she’d dialled Owen’s number.
In the few months that followed, everything had gotten worse. Every interview, article, report was about her failures, her blame. She woke up screaming every night. There was no relief from the constant guilt. She’d taken to not leaving her bed, not letting anyone in. It had seemed easier that way, both for others and for herself. No one would have to see her and be reminded of the pain she’d caused. Owen had turned up everyday, knocking on her hotel door. For the first few weeks, she had just ignored him, waited until he got bored and left. But then, almost unconsciously, she had started leaving the door unlocked.
Getting up from the sofa, Claire pads into the kitchen. She pauses at the window, hoping to see Owen and Maisie on their way back. They have gone fishing and aren’t due back for a couple hours, but Claire still hopes. She hates being away from them, hates not being able to clock their every move, just to make sure they are safe. It’s been three years since they escaped from Lockwood Manor, Maisie in tow, but to Claire, it feels like they’ve never left. Claire and Owen are living in a constant state of fear. Scared of that knock on the door telling them their bubble has burst, scared of Maisie riding her bike into town one day and not coming back. Owen reassures her almost to the point where she feels he is doing it for himself more than for her. The only thing keeping Claire sane is the knowledge that if something were to happen to that little girl, neither her nor Owen would stop until she was safe or they were dead.
The door hinge creaks. The hairs on the back of Claire’s neck suddenly stand tall. She drops the dishes into the sink, keeping one hand firmly on the hilt of a knife. Her mind is racing through the possibilities of who this could be. Owen and Maisie would never open the door so slowly that it would creak. They’d be flinging it open, calling her name as soon as they stepped inside. They live in the middle of fucking nowhere, so it’s unlikely to be burgulars. That only leaves the worst.
She’s immediately alert, crouching and creeping towards the door, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruders. She sees two of them, wearing ski masks. They’re not talking but they are communicating. The one in front is larger, holding a firearm in one hand and gesturing behind him for the smaller man to follow. Clearly, they’re expecting people to be here and they’re expecting them to fight back. Claire holds her breath as the men move past the kitchen. She ducks behind a cabinet, hoping they keep moving. She watches them glimpse into the kitchen but keep moving. Almost as if they are looking for something specific. Once past the door, Claire sees them move toward Maisie’s room. Her heart starts pounding. She’s surprised the intruders can’t hear it. As quickly and quietly as possible, Claire rushes to the front door, left open by the men. She grabs her bike, propped up on the porch and speeds away towards the river.
Her mind races a mile a minute as she heads to where Owen said they’d be fishing. Who were the men? How did they know where they lived? It was obvious they were after Maisie, they even knew which bedroom to head for, almost like they’d been in the house before. She desperately tries to think of everyone who’s entered that house. It’s not the one they had hoped to be in, but the cabin Owen is building is taking longer than hoped, so after Lockwood Manor, they settled into a rental. That means the landlord knows them, but considering she’s an elderly lady who hasn’t looked at a newspaper since 1989, Claire and Owen didn’t think she’d be much of a threat.
Finally, after what feels like hours of riding, she reaches Owen’s favourite fishing spot. She sees them slightly further up the river and she finally breathes. She drops the bike and rushes over to them.
“Claire?” Owen sees her first. His face goes from a smile to concern, frown lines littering his forehead. “What are you doing here?”
“Owen!” Claire gasps out, grabbing Owen’s arms before looking for Maisie. She’s knee deep in the river, rod in hand, looking at Claire with wide eyes. Claire runs in, not thinking about her cold, wet legs, only knowing she has to touch Maisie to make sure she’s safe. She wraps her arms around her.
“Claire, what’s going on?” Owen asks. This time the worry is strong in his voice. Claire turns around, Maisie still in her arms.
“Someone’s found her.” She says, barely above a whisper. She watches as Owen’s eyes harden. He wades out to where they are and envelopes them.
Into Claire’s hair, he says, “We know what to do, we’ve prepared for this.”
“What do we do?” Maisie says, pulling away from the couple. Her cheeks are red, eyes glistening. Owen rushes back to shore and starts collecting their things. Claire stays close to Maisie, trying to reassure her.
“Everything’s going to be fine. We won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Maisie nods, shakily, but grabs Claire’s hand as they walk back to the shore. Claire takes Owen’s arm to stop him moving.
“They’re in the house. They knew which her bedroom was.” Her voice cracks towards the end of the sentence, breath hitching in her throat.
Owen puts his hands on her cheeks, rubbing circles with his thumb. “We’re all safe. Maisie’s fine.” He kisses her lightly. “Let’s get in the truck and talk about it on the road, okay?” He gives her a smile. Claire tries her best to return but she can feel it doesn’t look right. “We’ll be fine, won’t we kiddo?” He says as he wraps an arm around Maisie. Claire marvels at the man. How did she end up someone so calm and protective? She doesn’t deserve him.
They hurry to the truck. Maisie pulls open the back door and slings her rucksack in, following suit. Claire shuts the door behind her and climbs into the passenger side. The truck revs and Owen pulls off.
They drive in silence for a while, Claire anxiously checking the rearview mirror to make sure Maisie is still there. When they ran off together, hearts still pounding from the adrenaline from running for their lives, it had seemed like a dream. Claire and Owen’s relationship just restarting, Maisie missing her grandfather but still feeling the relief of being whisked away. Then the nightmares began. The first time Maisie woke up screaming, Owen and Claire had burst into her room just moments later, which had turned out to be a bad idea. Maisie had thought the dinosaur was back and the door being flung open so violently only convinced her more. It had taken an hour of shushing and coaxing before Maisie would lower the blanket enough to see there was no danger. From then on it was a battle between them and what they had seen in that manor.
Over time, they had settled into a rhythm. Maisie was an independent child, growing up with only a nanny and occasionally a grandfather had given her a lot of free reign. Claire and Owen have eventually worked out a balance between giving her her space but not completely leaving her to her own devices. Sometimes, this meant making her do something she didn’t want to. Like eating dinner together every evening and telling either Claire or Owen if she was going outside.
“Why do I have to?” Maisie had complained when the couple had sat her down and told her of this boundary. “It’s not like there’s anything for miles anyway.”
“Because we need to know where you are.” Claire had said, leading to the first of many eye rolls. But, to her credit, Maisie had stuck to that rule.
Physical affection had also been new to the child. Once they’d left the manor, Maisie had all but stopped initiating any physical contact. Claire and Owen were reluctant to attempt any, not wanting to force her to do anything she didn’t feel comfortable with. It was only in the last few months that Maisie had grown okay with hugging.
It’s Maisie who breaks the silence. “Someone’s found me.” She states the fact as though it happens everyday. “Where are we going?”
Claire and Owen exchange a glance.
“We’ll find a motel for the night and regroup.” Owen says, trying to give Maisie a reassuring smile. She sees right through it.
“So we don’t have a plan. Thought you guys were supposed to be keeping me safe and you don’t even have a plan in case this happens.” Maisie says.
Claire’s heart jumps into her throat. Hearing the child say everything she’s been thinking for the last three years is terrifying. She turns around to apologise or say something reassuring and is greeted by Maisie’s smile. The glisten in her eyes confirms she’s joking.
“Very funny, very helpful.” Claire says with a sigh of relief she’s hoping is only clear to herself. Owen laughs and puts a hand back for Maisie to high five.
“Sorry, you just seemed very tense.” Maisie admits. “But we’re fine, nothing bad has happened.” She throws her hands up to demonstrate. Claire is glad she doesn’t seem worried or scared but Claire was so close to those men she can still smell their aftershave.
Owen must be feeling it too because he puts a hand on her thigh and squeezes gently. But to Maisie, he says, “Exactly, we’ll be alright.”
Claire flashes him a thankful smile. She doesn't know where she’d be without him.
They drive for hours. Only when Claire sees the sign telling them they’ve arrived in a new state does she relax enough to suggest they stop at the next motel. It’s been dark for a while and Maisie’s fast asleep. Owen agrees and they pull off the highway shortly after.
Claire grabs the bags while Owen tries to pick up a sleeping Maisie without waking her. It doesn’t work. Claire didn’t expect it to with how alert Maisie always is, particularly when she seems dead to the world. Owen only gets an arm around her back before she starts, panting. Claire watches Owen apologise softly, holding his hands up.
“I didn’t want to wake you but we’re at a motel.” He says. Maisie’s breathing slows as she sleepily rubs her eyes. She hops down from the truck, takes her rucksack out of Claire’s hand and slams the door closed. Owen looks at Claire, who shrugs bemusedly. He should have known that would happen. But as they walk to reception, Maisie grabs Owen’s hand and lets him guide her inside.
They get adjoining rooms. A compromise between Claire and Maisie. Claire doesn’t want to let Maisie out of her sight, wants to be able to make sure she’s safe and secure at all times. Maisie hates sharing a room. Years of sleeping in her own bedroom and spending most of her time there has given her a mistrust of sleeping in the same room as someone else. Owen eventually convinces Claire that she’ll be fine in an adjoining room. After triple checking all doors and windows are locked, except for the one that leads to their room, Claire is calm enough to leave Maisie sleeping in her room.
It’s nearing midnight by the time Claire and Owen finally collapse into bed. None of them have pyjamas, so both are just in underwear. Maisie’s sleeping in Owen’s shirt.
“I just can’t understand how anyone knew where we were. We’ve been so careful.” Claire says, curling into Owen’s side. He lifts his arm, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder.
“The only thing I can think is that electrician we had to get out last month. He must’ve recognised me.”
Claire remembers that. They try to fix things themselves to avoid having too many people in the house but the fridge had stopped working and it was something they didn’t know how to fix. As a precaution, Claire and Maisie had been out when the man had come round but all their faces has been plastered over the news following the Lockwood Manor incident.
“I should have tried harder to fix that damned fridge myself.” Owen says. Claire can hear the pain in his voice.
“Hey, it wasn’t your fault.” She shifts, holding herself up on one arm so she can see his face. She leans down, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’re all fine, remember? As long as we stick together, we’ll survive.”
***
The humidity is what Claire senses first. How the sweat clings to her skin, enveloping her permanently in stickiness. Then she hears the screams. She’s back at Jurassic World, watching as hordes of screaming people rush towards her, huge thumping foot steps following close behind. She looks around wildly for Owen or her nephews, but is met with only terror.
“Claire! Claire, help me!”
Claire spins around and finds Maisie, backed against a wall, separated from Claire by a dinosaur. Claire starts to sprint, she has to get to Maisie. That’s all she can think about. Maisie’s terrified face, her eyes streaming. Claire’s heart breaks at the sight. But the longer she sprints, the further away Maisie becomes. The ground seems to stretch out, mocking Claire. And still Maisie screams.
“Help me, Claire! I don’t want to die.”
Claire tries to scream but nothing comes out. The dinosaur opens its jaws, saliva dripping down its chin. It’s going to bite down, it’s going to kill Maisie. Claire reaches out an arm, still sprinting full speed. The dinosaur gets closer and closer as Claire only gets further away.
She sits bolt upright in bed. Sweat drips from her forehead, tears stream from her eyes. She puts a hand on her chest, trying to calm her heart. Her breaths are coming fast and snowballing. She knows what’s happening but can’t stop it. She’s suddenly aware of the hand on her back, of Owen in her ear.
“Hey, hey, deep breaths. We’re all safe.” His hand rubs circles on her back, but his voice is miles away. She tries to get up, swinging her legs over the bed and pulling on a shirt, feeling exposed. She can’t catch her breath, she just needs to breathe. Her knees buckle when she tries to stand up and she lands on the floor, back against the bed.
“Owen, I can’t stand.” She pants out. “I can’t breathe.”
Owen’s right there next to her. When she needs him, he’s always there. He sits in front of her, taking her hands in his.
“Look at me.” He says, and when Claire doesn’t respond, he continues, “Claire, look at me.”
Her eyes meet his. “That’s it, breathe with me.” Her chest heaves up and down, but looking at Owen makes it easier. She tries to follow his lead. Deep breath in, deep breath out. “That’s it. You’re safe, we’re together.” They stay like that, just breathing, for what feels like hours. Owen puts his hands on her thighs, always keeping contact with her.
She tries to talk, but her throat is like sand paper. She mimes for a drink and Owen rushes to get her a cup. She sips it slowly.
“Thanks.” Breathing feels like a chore to keep it even but she’s getting there. “A nightmare. I’m sorry.”
Owen moves next to her, puts an arm over her shoulders and pulls her close. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He kisses the top of head and she breathes in the scent of him, calming her nervous system. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. Claire shakes her head slightly.
“We’re doing right by her, aren’t we? I mean, we’re doing the right thing?”
Owen doesn’t have to ask who she’s talking about. “Of course we are. If the choice is a life of freedom with us or a life of labs and experiments and no one looking out for her, then the choice is clear.” Claire knows he’s right, but sometimes she forgets. When they have to flee in the middle of the night to the middle of nowhere, it’s hard to remember the big picture. Owen continues. “She’s happy, she’s healthy, and we’re together. That’s all that matters. And if anything does happen to her, she’s got a badass mom who will stop at nothing to get her back.”
Claire chuckles. Her chest is still tight, her stomach still in knots, but she believes him. She would never let anyone harm Maisie, she would die first. And she knows Owen feels the same. But it’s hard to not feel out of their depth. Four years ago they had slept together once and avoided each other since. Now they live together and have a thirteen year old depending on them. The degree of love and responsibility she feels is unlike anything she’s ever experienced. Sometimes it’s completely overwhelming. Other times, it’s the best thing she’s ever felt. If these last few years are anything to go by though, she knows that together they’ll be fine. Together, they’ll find peace.