Chapter 10 - Clara
2021 Words
The strange happenings of the past week filled my head as I made my way up the path to the front door. The lights were out. No one expected me home tonight. I turned the key and silently opened the door. The house felt empty. I was about to walk upstairs when I heard mumbling coming from Grandma’s office.
What’s she doing up this late?
I tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open. “Grandma?”
Her eyes shot up from the table where she stood. “Clara, you’re home.”
“Yeah. Something strange happened at the disco.”
She eyed me warily and blew out a breath. “Are you ready to talk rationally and not behave like a spoilt brat?”
Grandma rested a hand on a book. Candles cast a glow around her small room, and the expression on her face was one of sadness. I wanted answers, but I knew I wouldn’t get them if I started shouting. Grandma was nothing if not predictable. She always switched off, retreated inside herself as soon as voices were raised.
“I’ll try,” I said, walking toward the armchair in the corner of the room. I didn’t know how she could stand being in here. It was pokey, cramped, and felt claustrophobic. There were no windows or natural light, and the room was barely big enough to walk around in.
“Tell me about what happened tonight.”
I told Grandma about the wish I’d made and how Scott finally noticed me. She nodded and mumbled to herself, then started taking jars off the shelves.
“What are you doing?”
“It sounds like the protection spell is wearing off. I need to reinforce it.”
“What?! No!”
“Clara, I must.”
“I’m not letting you, Grandma. Not until you tell me what’s going on. Why do I have a spell on me in the first place?”
Grandma threw her arms in the air. “Didn’t your mother already explain this? A dark energy was following you, so I protected you. That’s all.”
“That’s all?” I said, raising my voice. “You made my father leave. You did something to me without my permission, and now you think I’m going to let you do it again?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, Clara. It’s for your own good.”
“No!” I shouted. “It’s not for my own good. Something is happening. You know what it is, but won’t tell me. I’m not a child anymore. I deserve to know the truth.”
“The truth doesn’t always set you free, Clara. You might almost be eighteen, but while there is still breath left in my body, I will make sure they never find you.”
My mouth hung open. Grandma shuffled over to the shelves again. “Who, Grandma?”
“No one. I said too much. You get yourself off to bed while I work on my potion. It’ll be ready in the morning, then all of this will go away.”
I stood, ready to obey her, a natural reflex, until my brain kicked in. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not taking any potion. You’re not casting any spells on me. In fact,” I shouted, “you can remove whatever protection spell you put on me in the first place. I don’t want it.”
“Don’t be silly, Clara.”
“Silly!” I was starting to get angry. “How is it silly? Things are happening, things I can’t explain, and you won’t tell me anything. It’s always do this, Clara…drink this, Clara…wear this, Clara.” I reached up to the locket around my neck and pulled. The chain snapped. “I’m not wearing this, either,” I said as I threw it onto the table.
“Clara, no!” Grandma gasped. Her face went pale and she gripped the table, struggling to suck in air.
“Grandma, are you okay?” I rushed over to her. “Grandma?”
She sounded like she was choking.
“Mom!” I screamed. I heard the thump of her feet hitting the floor. She’d know what to do. I helped Grandma over to the armchair. “I’ll wear it. I’ll wear the locket. Oh god, Grandma. Don’t die. Please, don’t die.”
Mom came crashing through the door.
I swung my head toward her. “I don’t know what’s wrong. She just went pale and—”
“It’s okay, Clara,” Mom said, pulling an inhaler off one of the shelves. “She’ll be fine.”
Two puffs later, Grandma started breathing normally again. I felt more stupid than ever. I thought that by ripping the necklace off, I’d done something to her. But it was just asthma. I never even knew she had it.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked me.
“No, I’m not.” I started to cry. I always tried my best to stay strong, not upset anybody, but I was done. I was tired of it all.
“Why don’t you go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Don’t forget your locket,” Grandma said in a soft voice.
I picked it up and left. I had enough. They still hadn’t told me anything, but Grandma’s reaction when I broke the locket rattled me.
In the comfort of my room, I let my thoughts flow. Everything that had happened, everything they’d told me and didn’t tell me… It just didn’t add up. The only thing I knew was that the protection spell was starting to wear off. There was no way I would let Grandma cast another one. Let them say what they wanted, plead and beg. This was my life, and I was going to live it as me. Whoever the real me was. That thought stuck firmly.
Who was I? What had they done to me all those years ago? I had pieces of the puzzle, but not enough.
Sleep came easily, but my dreams were invaded. Grandma struggling to breathe, a man I remembered as Dad, a child laughing, my mom crying.
The next morning, I woke in a cold sweat, exhausted.
Grandma was nowhere to be seen when I went downstairs. Mom barely spoke two words as I sat over my bowl of Corn Flakes. I’d shoved the locket into my jeans, just to keep the peace.
I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “Mom, we need to talk about last night and what’s happening to me.”
There was a smashing sound and I looked up. Mom’s tea spread all over the floor and her cup was in pieces.
“Mom?”
She raised her head, her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t, Clara.”
“You have to. Grandma won’t tell me anything.”
“It’s for your own good.” She sighed and bent to pick up the pieces of the cup.
I pushed back from the table and grabbed a cloth to help. Stooped down to her level, I caught her eye. “Please, Mom. I’m freaking out.”
She took in a deep breath and lowered her gaze. “Okay, but you have to promise me, no matter what, you’ll listen to your grandma.”
“Of course.”
“No matter what, Clara.”
I nodded.
“Let’s sit down for this.”
Mom made us both a fresh cup of tea and we sat at the table. She was more nervous than I’d ever seen her, draining half her cup before she spoke.
“When Sarah was born, her magic was with her. It sparkled in her eyes. That’s not supposed to happen. Normally, magic doesn’t awaken until a child is about six. Your father was over the moon, kept saying we had a special child who would do so much.”
A tear slipped down Mom’s cheek and she swiped it away. “She was a happy baby, but restless, too. I was exhausted, so your dad insisted on doing the night feeds. I remember waking one night and hearing him singing to her. I should have gone downstairs to check, but I didn’t know. She died the next day.”
“Oh, Mom…” I took her hands in mine. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“No, it was his. I didn’t know who…what he was.” She stopped talking, lost in her own little world. I wanted to ask questions, but I gave her some time.
She raised her gaze to mine and gave me a weak smile. “I was different when you came along — more attentive, protective. I didn’t let you out of my sight. You didn’t have any magic.” She squeezed my hand. “I was so relieved, but your father…” She shook her head. “He changed. Constantly watching, checking for signs. He offered to do the night feeds, just as he had with Sarah, but I refused. No matter how tired I was, I was staying with you.
“As you grew, your father became restless. He kept saying you had to be tested. Initially, I allowed it out of fear of losing you. Everyone said it was the magic that had killed Sarah. I wasn’t letting it take you. You didn’t have any, though. You were tested every year, and every year, there was nothing to report.” Mom picked up her cup and took a sip.
“You were five when Grandma started having the visions. At first, they weren’t clear. She just saw a black shadow around you. When she realized who it was, she immediately came to me. Clara, you have to believe me. I did everything out of love for you.”
“I know, Mom. How about I make us some more tea.”
Mom’s sobs filled our little kitchen, and I took my time making the tea. When I placed the two cups on the table, she swiped her hand across her face and looked at me. Her eyes were red and puffy.
“Your father wasn’t who I thought he was, Clara. The singing I heard that night before Sarah…” She paused. “He was chanting, trying to control her magic.” She took a sip of tea and continued. “He was great with you, though, and you loved him. He played with you in the evenings and everything seemed normal. But when your Grandma started having those visions, things changed. He’d sit up half the night in darkness, talking to himself. I asked if anything was wrong, but he always said no, always put my mind at ease. I never suspected a thing.”
Mom’s hands trembled as she took a deep breath. “It was a week before your sixth birthday when I heard that singing again. You were due to be tested the following day. I’d been out shopping, but came home earlier than expected. My blood ran cold when I heard it. When I poked my head around the living room door, I saw you sitting on his knee as he chanted. His eyes were black, and you were in some sort of trance. I watched as your eyes turned from blue to black, then back again. You shook your head and turned to him. You asked him what he was singing. I remember he seemed shocked, almost angry. I called out then. I’ve no idea what he would have done to you, Clara.”
Mom gripped my hand and squeezed gently. “Grandma had a vision that day, and before I had a chance to say anything or question what I’d seen, she pulled you and me into her office. She saw him in his true form standing behind you. She saw…” Mom stopped.
“What did she see?” I asked, a cold sweat forming on the back of my neck.
Mom met my gaze, her lip trembling. “She saw your death.”
- Writer
