Clara did not know, but a person sitting not too far from the center of the car had noticed odd behavior from Clara. A male in his early thirties, wearing a leather jacket and sporting a worn backpack, kept looking her way. He had gotten on at the same station and could remember seeing her pause by the platform, her movements furtive.She's hiding something, he thought to himself, instincts honed over years working as a private investigator.He shot a discreet photo of Clara. Her face was masked, and her entire body seemed tensed. He brought up his local news app to scan through headlines for the past several days.It didn't take long to find the article: "Convicted Criminal Escapes Mental Health Facility." The grainy photo of Clara accompanying the article was unmistakable.The man's heart was racing as he glanced back toward her. She was staring out the window now, seemingly lost in thought. Should I report this? Or follow her and see where she's going?He thought for a moment befor
On the screen appeared the mugshot of Clara with piercing eyes as if daring any one to stand in her way. The anchor continued with an obvious tension in the voice."Clara Hemp, convicted felon with fraud, conspiracy, and attempted murder and kidnapping. Her history shows a pattern of manipulation and elusiveness. Cunning and resourceful are the adjectives that define Clara Hemp. Therefore, this escape was rather worrying.And meanwhile, Clara melted into the shadows of the city, those baggy pants and loose sweatshirt making her almost invisible to all the eyes stirring around her. She didn't look up; she didn't establish eye contact with anyone either. She stopped at a convenience store, her face hidden under the mask she had taken from the nurse's uniform.She grabbed a payphone from the rack by the counter, a bottle of water, and a snack. She handed the cashier a crumpled bill, avoiding the television playing in the corner."Thanks," Clara mumbled, her voice indistinct through the m
Benedict's icy glare felt like a winter storm, chilling Sabrina to her core. Her heart raced with a mix of fear and heartbreak as she faced him. He was Benedict Thompson, the only heir to the Thompson estates, a man known more for his wild ways than for his business brilliance. At a young age, he became a billionaire and led BMX Estates, a huge architectural firm. Now, he paced angrily in his family’s luxurious living room, each step echoing the thick tension in the air.“Last night, you seduced me,” he spat, his voice sharp and filled with anger. “What trick did you use to make my mother force me into this marriage?”Sabrina welled up with tears, trying to find the right words. She had never seen him like this; in pain and disbelief."I... I didn’t trick you," she stammered, her voice trembling. "I've liked you since we were kids. That’s all."His harsh laugh cut through her, deepening his rage. “You think I would believe that? The wedding, everything—it’s just a trap, isn’t it?”“I’
The next day came, though her feelings had been utterly smashed the night before, the wedding preparations continued on. Sabrina hardly recognised who peered back at her as she sat in the bride's suite: white, pale, tear-rimmed eyes, but still, a beautiful silken cloth hugged her body, soft curls framed her face.Her mother, Leila, entered and sat beside her. Her face etched with despair."Sabrina dear," she whispered softly, "do you really want to do this? You don't have to do this."Sabrina shook her head. New tears formed in her eyes. "Mom, what am I suppose to do?" she whispered in a barely audible voice, her voice barely above a whisper, quivering with uncertainty. "I love him, but he…. He hates me."The burden of her heart pressure weighed upon her chest so heavily that it became unbearable to breathe. She felt lost and scared, like standing at a crossroads with no signs guiding her.Then her eyes questioned her mother to seek solace as well as find answers that seemed really too
Locked with fury in her eyes, Teresa gripped Benedict's arm tightly with her fingernails digging deep into his skin. He was in the middle of an idle conversation with his friends, and the force of his mother's yank thrust him back into harsh reality. The smile dropped off his face, replaced by irritation."Turn around now and go back to Sabrina!" Teresa hissed to his face, her voice low but full of a venom that brought him up short. "This is your wedding! You're supposed to be with your wife, not out here screwing like some irresponsible idiot! Do you have any idea how embarrassing this is? How much shame you're bringing to our family?fix this Now!"She snapped her eyes to his with a warning so sharp he felt a jolt of anger-cum-tethers him to the moment. She wasn't letting this slide past. She gave one last withering glare to ensure the point had been wholly impressed, then turned and stormed off, heels clicking impatiently on the marble floor.Benedict clenched his teeth, pinioned and
As the applause subsided and guests resumed their own conversations, Benedict didn't hesitate to pull Sabrina aside. The phony smile he'd donned during their dance was gone within an instant, exchanged for a look of icy indifference. They stepped out of the ballroom, away from the crowd, and into a quiet corner of the reception hall. No warning, of course-just leaned and caught her by the arm, his fingers digging into her skin as he turned her to face him."You succeeded," Benedict spat, voice low but full of venom. "You managed to marry me, but don't for one second believe you'll ever have my heart.".She felt her eyes grow wide with the bitterness in his tone. Now she knew that he did not love her. But this was different-he said it all. On their wedding day, too. A sick feeling was in her belly as tears threatened to well up inside her once again. She bit down hard on her lip and kept them from falling."I don't love you," he continued, his eyes dark and unfeeling. "And I will never
Sabrina stood as a statue in the dim lit hall, her heart a racing and tears flowing ceaselessly down her cheeks. His curt words kept ringing in her ear; each syllable in his speech a burning hole reminding her of the schism between them. She slapped her hands on her chest, trying to hold herself inside."I will never have his heart," she whispered to herself, feeling the weight of his rejection settle heavily on her shoulders. "What did I expect? That love would conquer all?"That reality struck her like a chilly wave. The man with whom she had wished to spend all of life had just crushed all those hopes into pieces with a few brutal words. Wiping away tears, she heard the approach of footsteps.It was Teresa-the mother-in-law-whose expression seemed both full of concern and disappointment. "Sabrina? Okay?"Sabrina smiled, though it felt like shards of glass were lodged in her throat. "I'm fine, just. tired."Teresa narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe it. "You don't look fine. Where
And so she'd walked away, his words stabbing her ears as they struck home."You think you can just waltz in here and play like you're good enough to have my love? You'll never have it, Sabrina," he had sneered, the disgust spewing from him like acid that cut into her heart. Every step was hard as she moved through the grand house now that had become a cage of gilded bars and memories bitter with the poison of anger.She was lost in this world he created, full of resentment and anger. "Why even bother?" he had shouted at her, his face distorted in rage as she tried to reach out to him. "You're just a reminder of everything I hate about my life!"Yet still, she gave in . Deep down, there was still some love from her side of his body that seemed mutually less, but still true love between two souls. She had still not given up. Still catching for breath, "I'm not giving up on you," she could still stare at tear-stained mascara and tears, and hurt etched upon her face staring back from the
On the screen appeared the mugshot of Clara with piercing eyes as if daring any one to stand in her way. The anchor continued with an obvious tension in the voice."Clara Hemp, convicted felon with fraud, conspiracy, and attempted murder and kidnapping. Her history shows a pattern of manipulation and elusiveness. Cunning and resourceful are the adjectives that define Clara Hemp. Therefore, this escape was rather worrying.And meanwhile, Clara melted into the shadows of the city, those baggy pants and loose sweatshirt making her almost invisible to all the eyes stirring around her. She didn't look up; she didn't establish eye contact with anyone either. She stopped at a convenience store, her face hidden under the mask she had taken from the nurse's uniform.She grabbed a payphone from the rack by the counter, a bottle of water, and a snack. She handed the cashier a crumpled bill, avoiding the television playing in the corner."Thanks," Clara mumbled, her voice indistinct through the m
Clara did not know, but a person sitting not too far from the center of the car had noticed odd behavior from Clara. A male in his early thirties, wearing a leather jacket and sporting a worn backpack, kept looking her way. He had gotten on at the same station and could remember seeing her pause by the platform, her movements furtive.She's hiding something, he thought to himself, instincts honed over years working as a private investigator.He shot a discreet photo of Clara. Her face was masked, and her entire body seemed tensed. He brought up his local news app to scan through headlines for the past several days.It didn't take long to find the article: "Convicted Criminal Escapes Mental Health Facility." The grainy photo of Clara accompanying the article was unmistakable.The man's heart was racing as he glanced back toward her. She was staring out the window now, seemingly lost in thought. Should I report this? Or follow her and see where she's going?He thought for a moment befor
The ringing of the telephone cut into the heavy, tense silence of the evening. Sabrina sat in the living room with a cup of tea and looked around at Benedict, who paced up and down across the window, deepening his face for one word with each statement made by the person on the phone.Thanks, he muttered into the receiver before hanging it back up on the phone.Sabrina set her cup of tea aside. "What is it?" she asked, though she could already feel the response constricting in her chest."It's Clara," Benedict said in a low tone, laced with rage. "She's escaped."Sabrina rose up from the chair, hand automatically reaching her mouth. "Escaped? How? Isn't she under observation at all times?Benedict nodded his head, his jaw clenched. "She attacked a nurse, took her uniform, and just walked out of the facility. They didn't even realize she was missing until she had almost walked halfway out the door."Sabrina's fists curled up into tight balls. "And they are telling us this now?"They're
Clara waited patiently in the dimly lit corridors of the mental health facility. The guardians were distracted by some new minor commotion in another wing. The hall outside her room became unguarded. She was sitting calmly on her cot, imagining things. Tonight was the night for her escape. She had planned everything very carefully - each and every step of the escape.The nurse went around making rounds and stopped at Clara's door, knocking gently before entering."Clara? How're we doing tonight?" the nurse asked as she entered in a calm professional voice.Clara smiled faintly, her face curiously innocent. When the nurse turned her back to adjust the chart on the bedside table, Clara moved swiftly. She reached for the metal pitcher on the nightstand and brought it down upon the nurse's head over the back of her head with enough force to knock her unconscious.The nurse collapsed onto the floor, her clipboard clattering loudly against the tiles. Clara ducked down and ensured she was no
That night, Benedict sat beside Sabrina in their living room. The warm light of the table lamp lit the space across his face and left deep shadows everywhere else. Lines of worry spread across his features as his fingers tapped out an impatient rhythm against the armrest of his chair. "She's playing them," he muttered softly. "I know it, Sabrina."She closed the book and turned to him. The way she was gazing at him showed tension, and fire flared in his eyes that was evident when Clara was present. "You don't need to prove a thing," Sabrina said coolly, though firm. "I have seen what she's capable of. But what are we going to do about it Benedict?" Benedict straightened his back, elbows on knees."We get ahead one step, Sabrina," he growled through a tightening jaw line.“If she’s planning something—and she is—we’ll be ready.”Sabrina turned her face up, a mix of sympathy and resolve. "You are not alone in this," she whispered softly. "Whatever happens we'll face it together, but smar
Clara sat on her cot, her shoulders curved forward in what might have been exhaustion or deep thought. Her hair fell softly around her face as she gently rocked, humming to herself - perhaps finding comfort in the rhythm and melody that made sense to her, even if others couldn't follow its pattern. Her eyes moved across the room, taking in her surroundings in a way that suggested she was processing her environment, even if differently than others might. While the staff saw behaviors they needed to document, there was a person there - Clara - experiencing this moment in her own way.Inside, though, Clara was far from lost. She was calculating. Her plan was working out nicely. The staff, kind-hearted and wanting to aid her, were starting to accommodate her: let her walk outside for longer, take her in the recreation room, and conduct private therapy with her. All these concessions edged her closer to the freedom she wanted—and revenge she had envisioned. "Good morning, Clara," Nurse Ele
They had a future; they had a family, and nothing—no one—could take that away.But even as the warmth of the moment enveloped them, a small voice in the back of Benedict's mind continued to whisper. Clara's game wasn't over. She was just getting started.A few days into Clara's admission to the psychiatric facility, Benedict and Sabrina had attempted to move forward, focusing on their family and putting as much distance between themselves and the past as was humanly possible. But then came the jarring news once again: Clara was getting better. Her shenanigans were said to be stabilizing, and she was being rewarded with more privileges within the facility. Benedict, though, felt the sharp sting of suspicion. Clara was far too clever, too calculating, to just let herself get taken down by her own charade.She's acting. Benedict was sure of it.He stands in front of the window, and his eyes go blank as the sun sets with long shadows. His heart seems to want Clara gone, but his mind still
Benedict sat at the kitchen table, running his fingers over the rim of his coffee cup as steam curled up into the air and vanished into the morning light. The sun spat out rays that tenderly bathed the room, but the warmth did little to thaw the cold thoughts that gripped him. Clara transferring to the mental health facility had been unforeseen, but Benedict knew her too well. She was always on the next corner, always making the long play. It had already been years that they had last seen each other, but time and again every time he thought of getting out and away from her, she invented a new twist to bring him back. The soft sound of footsteps broke him out of his reverie, and he looked up to see Sabrina entering the room. The presence of her was like a balm to his soul. Her eyes were filled with quiet concern, soothing the harsh edges of his thoughts. Her steps were light, almost whispering in the air, as she walked toward him. "What's wrong, Benedict?" she asked with her soft but a
"You think you’ve won," Clara muttered, her voice low and venomous, the sound bouncing off the barren walls of her cell. "You think you’ve left me behind, but I’m not finished yet."For a long time, the oppressive silence of solitary confinement did not stifle her soul; it had ignited the flame of her fury. Every instant spent in that cold, empty box was tinder for her will. Clara's mind was frantically plotting and imagining scenarios. She clutched at each shred of hope for revenge as if it might be her savior.She would not allow them to beat her. The guards, nor the other prisoners. And especially Benedict and Sabrina, who actually thought they won.Clara kept to herself in the days that followed, her sharp gaze observing everything and everyone during her limited hours outside solitary. She listened intently, piecing together information, overheard conversations, and the intricate social web within the prison.There was power to be seized, even here. She just had to find the right