Chapter 2 - The Unthinkable Reaction
The grandfather clock chimed a warped, broken note as its internal mechanisms were jammed by the shattered crystal. Julian stood frozen, his chest heaving, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He expected Clara to scream, to drag him by his collar to his father’s study, or to quit on the spot as the last three governesses had.
Clara did none of those things.
She didn't even flinch. Slowly, methodically, she brushed a stray shard of crystal from her crisp, charcoal-grey skirt. She stepped over the glittering debris, the soles of her practical shoes crunching softly against the ruined antique. When she reached Julian, she didn't strike him. She dropped to her knees, bringing her face level with his trembling, tear-streaked cheeks.
"Are you finished?" she asked, her voice an eerily calm whisper that barely carried over the ticking of the broken clock.
Julian blinked, his rage short-circuiting into profound confusion. "I... I hate you. I hate all of you."
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"I know," Clara replied, her eyes darting quickly toward the security camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing his ear. "But you must never show them that, Julian. They are watching. And if they know you remember what happened in the West Wing, they will send you away."
Julian’s breath hitched. The ghosts in his mind suddenly took a very solid, very terrifying shape.
