Silent Dreams Never Die — Author: John Miller 389
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Chapter 389 Claire’s Shattered Aftermath
Reaching the doorway, she stopped. Peering inside, she saw Claire huddled on the sofa, wrapped in a bedsheet. She was curled into a tight ball, arms locked around herself, her body shaking with silent sobs. Her eyes stared vacantly into the distance, empty and dull.
Scarlett stepped inside and slowly approached. As she sat down on the edge of the sofa, the details became painfully clear–Claire’s hair was a tangled mess; angry bruises mottled her skin; her lip was split and bloody; dark blood was crusted under her fingernails.
Scarlett’s mind recoiled from imagining what had happened. She didn’t dare ask.
Instead, she gently reached out and placed a tentative hand over Claire’s. “Claire,” she whispered.
At the cool touch, Claire flinched violently. Her unfocused eyes darted to Scarlett’s face, but held no recognition. She began to scramble backward, her voice a broken whisper. “No… don’t come near. Get away… get away from me.”
Seeing her friend in this state twisted Scarlett’s heart. She tightened her grip on Claire’s hand. “Claire, it’s me. It’s Scarlett. Look at me. Please, look at me.”
Claire didn’t seem to hear. She shook her head wildly, hands flying up to cover her ears as fresh tears streamed down her face.
Scarlett pulled her into a firm embrace, holding her close, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. “Claire, what happened? Tell me what’s wrong,” she pleaded, her own voice thick with worry.
Claire didn’t answer, her breaths coming in ragged, heavy gasps. Just as Scarlett began to loosen her hold, concerned she was being too restrictive, Claire suddenly lunged forward and sank her teeth deep into Scarlett’s shoulder.
A sharp pain shot through her, but Scarlett stifled her cry.
Claire bit down with frightening force, as if she wanted to tear the flesh away.
When she finally released her jaw, she screamed at Scarlett, her voice raw and shattered, “You monster! You’re a monster!”
Tears now fell freely from Scarlett’s own eyes as she held her sobbing friend.
Outside the door, Damian, who had followed, heard everything. He exchanged a grave look with Zachary, whose face was a mask of anguish and guilt.
Damian stepped forward and placed a comforting hand on Zachary’s shoulder. The gesture
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Zachary turned to him, his expression tortured. “This is my fault,” he said, the words choked. “I let her walk into that. Elias… He humiliated her because of me.”
Damian opened his mouth to speak, but no adequate words came.
“I was too late,” Zachary continued, his voice dropping to a haunted whisper. “Just a few minutes earlier… if I’d been just a few minutes earlier, she wouldn’t be like this.”
Damian understood the crushing weight of that guilt. Knowing platitudes were useless, he simply asked, “What’s the plan now?”
Zachary took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ve already called Felix. We’re pressing charges. We’re taking this all the way.”
“We need to contain this,” Damian said, his tone practical but urgent. “If word gets out, Ms. Wright will bear the brunt of the scandal.”
Zachary nodded grimly. “I know.”
“Where’s Elias now?” Damian asked.
“He was gone by the time I got here. Ran off.”
Damian’s eyes
turned cold. “He won’t
get far.”
They waited outside for another half hour before Scarlett emerged from the bedroom.
She looked drained, her face pale and distant. A small, dark stain was slowly seeping through the fabric on her shoulder.
Seeing her, Damian moved quickly to her side. He wanted to ask about the wound, but held back. The cause was obvious–Claire. Under any other circumstance, he would have been furious, but now, Claire’s wellbeing took precedence.
Zachary also looked at her anxiously. “Is she… any calmer?”
Scarlett lifted her gaze to his. For a moment, it seemed she wanted to accuse him–to ask why he had lured Claire into that situation. But the words died on her lips.
What, truly, was Zachary’s sin in this? The fault lay with Elias. Only with Elias.
After a silent internal struggle, she spoke, her voice unnervely calm. “Stay with her. Both of you. I’ll be back soon.”
Her composure was almost unsettling.
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“Where are you going?” Damian asked, concern etching his features.
“Claire says she wants slow–cooked pork shanks. I’m going to get them for her.”
The answer was logical, yet it set off an alarm in Damian’s mind. “Just stay with her, that’s all. It’s the middle of the night. I can make something here. Or I’ll go with you.”
Scarlett looked at him, her expression unwavering. “She was specific. It has to be from that shop.”
Damian fell silent, conflicted.
“Then I’m coming with you,” he insisted.
Scarlett shook her head, her gaze shifting meaningfully toward the bedroom door. “Claire needs someone here. I’m afraid… I’m afraid Elias might come back.”
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