A day became two, then a week, then a couple of months.
Little by little, Claire got comfortable in her new room, her new clothes, the house. She’d sit by the fire, and while she could still hear some thoughts, it wasn’t as bad as before. It wasn’t overwhelming. She’d only catch glimpses, passing, floating ideas that were at the forefront of their minds. But nothing substantial, nothing that made her want to claw her brain out because it made no sense.
From her glimpses, she knew two things : these adults spent a lot of time worrying about things, and she could trust them.
Which was one thing to know and another to be able to do.
It came gradually.
She’d voluntarily sit with Sandy when he was reading, asking questions or just being near. She’d hang around the kitchen when Percy was anxiously waiting for the other to come back. She’d let them both tell her bedtime stories, even if it wasn’t like before when her dad was telling them.
Eventually, the nights got warm enough that the adults discussed not using the fireplace anymore. Sitting in front of the lit fire, Claire was silent - she rarely spoke to them, but they didn’t know it wasn’t a new thing, she’d never spoken much - but she was observing them. And Percy caught on, and he came to sit near her.
– What do you think ? he asked.
Her eyes darted to the floor. She didn’t want the fire to go, clearly, but saying it out loud ? Frightening. She kind of curled up on herself.
– Hey, it’s all right. I’m asking because you seem to like it.
Claire shrugged. After several seconds of silence, he patted her on the shoulder and got up, and gestured to Sandy to follow him in the kitchen. She didn’t pay attention to their conversation much afterwards.