Corrected
Everything was perfect. Absolutely everything. (semi colon here) The lighting, the restaurant, the atmosphere. Everything was in place for me to pop the question. Reflexively, I reached into my pocket and felt for the velvet box for about the twentieth time since I entered the restaurant. Finally, it felt right. Now. Now is the time. "Claire? I have something I wanted to ask you."
Her emerald eyes fell on me and I basked in their light, (remove comma, a pause is awkward here) for just a second to bolster my courage, before sliding from the chair and kneeling in front of her. The box appeared in my hands just like (use ‘as though by…’ rather than ‘just like’ because he isn’t speaking and it’s a more colloquial phrase) magic and I opened it, revealing the dazzling ring within. "Claire, will you marry me?" I asked, just like (use ‘as’ here instead of ‘like’) I had practiced in front of the mirror.
I looked up, expecting to see her eyes sparkling with approval, but instead she was staring at something on the table. "No, I'm sorry…but I can’t."
“But Claire, I thought you…we…were in-- ”
“Love?” She hung her head, obscuring her face with her long, ebony hair. “Things change, Jack. I…I can’t see you anymore.”
The finality of that was like a sledgehammer to my head. I sat there, stunned, when she gathered her purse and got up quickly.
“Claire," I stuttered, "Wait for me.”
I made to follow her, but she turned, her face streaked with tears, and begged, "Jack. (comma here) Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to get hurt."
Like a statue, I stood motionless as a cab answered her summons and took her away. I could hear the others muttering and when I finally turned to pay my bill (the cab picked her up inside the restaurant? Clarify the transitions here. Did they leave the restaurant? Did she only leave?), I could see their pitiful, sidelong glances.
I escaped the restaurant as quickly as I could, waxing (always be re-read what you write to make sure that it doesn’t sound awkward) pensive as I drove to her apartment. Things change? She doesn’t want me to get hurt? What in the world was she talking about? Why is she being so vague?
I parked the car hurriedly, my long strides carrying me quickly to her door. I took a moment to run my hand through my hair before rapping my knuckles against the door. The door opened instantly and the next thing I knew, something had yanked me inside and slammed me into an adjacent wall. The door clicked shut, throwing us into darkness, and whoever was holding me against the wall sneered, “Wow. She really knows how to pick ’em. Followed her home like a stray.” An icy hand grabbed my windpipe and threatened to squeeze the life out of me. “I hate strays.”
“Where’s Claire?” I wanted to yell, but it came out choked. My hands shook trying to pry his vice-like grip (finish this sentence).
“Boy, you’re dumb. She said she can’t see you anymore. So just let it go.” The grip on my throat tightened and I could feel my pulse throbbing against his cold palm. His breath brushed against my ear as he whispered, “I feel generous tonight, so I’ll let you live. But don’t follow her. You can get hurt.” Sarcasm dripped off the last sentence as he bashed my head against the wall and let me go. “If you'll excuse me, I have something to finish.”
I slumped against the wall, dazed and panting when I inhaled gas fumes. I heard the rough drag of a match being lit and time seemed to slow as I turned and watched the match drop. It tumbled end over end until it hit the ground and everything erupted into light. Flames eagerly spread, devouring everything in sight. For one agonizing moment, I saw him, a devil within the conflagration. He was dressed like a gentleman, but cruelty was chiseled in his pale face. He gazed at me, smirked, and then disappeared through the window and down the fire escape.
Sometime after that, I fainted, only to recover later in hospital. The doctor said (finish this sentence) suffered some smoke inhalation and that I had to stay the night. I watched the news on the small TV, heard that no one was killed from the fire, but there was one person missing. I knew right away who it was.
I felt my temperature spike when I thought of that guy I met in the apartment and my Claire being spirited away by him. He took her away and burnt down her apartment, trying to obliterate her existence from memory. But I would remember. I swore that I would find her. I would do something about this.
“Claire.” I whispered to myself, “I’m coming for you…Wait for me.”
Her emerald eyes fell on me and I basked in their light, (remove comma, a pause is awkward here) for just a second to bolster my courage, before sliding from the chair and kneeling in front of her. The box appeared in my hands just like (use ‘as though by…’ rather than ‘just like’ because he isn’t speaking and it’s a more colloquial phrase) magic and I opened it, revealing the dazzling ring within. "Claire, will you marry me?" I asked, just like (use ‘as’ here instead of ‘like’) I had practiced in front of the mirror.
I looked up, expecting to see her eyes sparkling with approval, but instead she was staring at something on the table. "No, I'm sorry…but I can’t."
“But Claire, I thought you…we…were in-- ”
“Love?” She hung her head, obscuring her face with her long, ebony hair. “Things change, Jack. I…I can’t see you anymore.”
The finality of that was like a sledgehammer to my head. I sat there, stunned, when she gathered her purse and got up quickly.
“Claire," I stuttered, "Wait for me.”
I made to follow her, but she turned, her face streaked with tears, and begged, "Jack. (comma here) Don’t follow me. I don’t want you to get hurt."
Like a statue, I stood motionless as a cab answered her summons and took her away. I could hear the others muttering and when I finally turned to pay my bill (the cab picked her up inside the restaurant? Clarify the transitions here. Did they leave the restaurant? Did she only leave?), I could see their pitiful, sidelong glances.
I escaped the restaurant as quickly as I could, waxing (always be re-read what you write to make sure that it doesn’t sound awkward) pensive as I drove to her apartment. Things change? She doesn’t want me to get hurt? What in the world was she talking about? Why is she being so vague?
I parked the car hurriedly, my long strides carrying me quickly to her door. I took a moment to run my hand through my hair before rapping my knuckles against the door. The door opened instantly and the next thing I knew, something had yanked me inside and slammed me into an adjacent wall. The door clicked shut, throwing us into darkness, and whoever was holding me against the wall sneered, “Wow. She really knows how to pick ’em. Followed her home like a stray.” An icy hand grabbed my windpipe and threatened to squeeze the life out of me. “I hate strays.”
“Where’s Claire?” I wanted to yell, but it came out choked. My hands shook trying to pry his vice-like grip (finish this sentence).
“Boy, you’re dumb. She said she can’t see you anymore. So just let it go.” The grip on my throat tightened and I could feel my pulse throbbing against his cold palm. His breath brushed against my ear as he whispered, “I feel generous tonight, so I’ll let you live. But don’t follow her. You can get hurt.” Sarcasm dripped off the last sentence as he bashed my head against the wall and let me go. “If you'll excuse me, I have something to finish.”
I slumped against the wall, dazed and panting when I inhaled gas fumes. I heard the rough drag of a match being lit and time seemed to slow as I turned and watched the match drop. It tumbled end over end until it hit the ground and everything erupted into light. Flames eagerly spread, devouring everything in sight. For one agonizing moment, I saw him, a devil within the conflagration. He was dressed like a gentleman, but cruelty was chiseled in his pale face. He gazed at me, smirked, and then disappeared through the window and down the fire escape.
Sometime after that, I fainted, only to recover later in hospital. The doctor said (finish this sentence) suffered some smoke inhalation and that I had to stay the night. I watched the news on the small TV, heard that no one was killed from the fire, but there was one person missing. I knew right away who it was.
I felt my temperature spike when I thought of that guy I met in the apartment and my Claire being spirited away by him. He took her away and burnt down her apartment, trying to obliterate her existence from memory. But I would remember. I swore that I would find her. I would do something about this.
“Claire.” I whispered to myself, “I’m coming for you…Wait for me.”
-There are very few errors which is good and longer writing suits you better than one or two paragraphs.
-You need to flesh out your characters more just a little. Great detail isn't required but the lack quite a lot. We get that the villain is bad and sinister but there is very little depth to him (as well as the other characters).
Something things to consider:
What does the lead male think of Clair?
What does Clair look like?
What does she look like as she turns him down/leaves? (We only know she is crying and therefore can assume that she is sad...or pretending for his sake.)
What does the lead male feel while he is almost strangled? In the hospital?
What does the villain look like surround by flames?
What does the apartment look like in flames?
Why does the lead male decide to go after Clair even though he's been turned down? (We only know he loves her and she might be in danger, anything else?)
-You need to flesh out your characters more just a little. Great detail isn't required but the lack quite a lot. We get that the villain is bad and sinister but there is very little depth to him (as well as the other characters).
Something things to consider:
What does the lead male think of Clair?
What does Clair look like?
What does she look like as she turns him down/leaves? (We only know she is crying and therefore can assume that she is sad...or pretending for his sake.)
What does the lead male feel while he is almost strangled? In the hospital?
What does the villain look like surround by flames?
What does the apartment look like in flames?
Why does the lead male decide to go after Clair even though he's been turned down? (We only know he loves her and she might be in danger, anything else?)
