Tempted Trapped and Too Late to Run

Dylan pushed open the storage room door. The light was still on. Clara was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed.

A sharp pang hit his chest. "Clara?"

She opened her eyes slowly, rubbing her temples. "Hey, you're done with work?"

Dylan reached out his hand, motioning for her to come over.

She walked over and hooked her fingers through his.

He led her out. "Didn't I tell you? If someone mouths off at you, don't just take it. Give it right back."

"She didn't say anything," Clara mumbled.

They stepped into the master bedroom, all understated luxury. Clara grabbed one

of Dylan's pajama shirts and disappeared into the bathroom.

The shower started up almost immediately.

Dylan lingered outside the door. "Are you upset? Did something get to you?"

Inside, Clara stared at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized her own reflection.

She didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out that photo again.

Every time she looked at it, her head throbbed so badly she wanted to scream.

She shoved the photo away, rushed through her shower, then crawled under the covers without another word.

Dylan sat down at the edge of the bed, took her wrist gently, and kissed the back of her hand. "I've already taken care of it. Next time something happens, call me right away."

"I don't have a phone," she reminded him quietly.

Oh, right. Before she went missing, he'd been so paranoid he'd even taken her phone away.

His lashes fluttered. "I'll have someone bring you a new

tomorrow."

Clara nodded, looking exhausted. She closed her eyes, her voice soft. "I just want to sleep, okay?"

Dylan watched her for a moment, then nodded.

He went to shower. When he came back, she was already fast asleep, her eyelashes perfectly still.

He couldn't sleep-never could, not in the Ferguson house.

Clara didn't sleep well either. She twisted restlessly, caught in a dream that felt

both strange and achingly familiar.

A gentle voice echoed in her mind.

"Clara, want to play a game? If you can hold a squat for an hour, I'll take you out for candied fruit, okay?"

"Really?"

"Really. I'll keep time for you."

Sweat broke out across her forehead as she drifted deeper into the dream.

Dylan sat nearby, a small table on the bed, catching up on work he'd ignored for days.

In her dream, the voice returned. "Coach isn't here today. I'll take you out. What do you want to do?"

"Can we go to the amusement park?"

"Of course. Never been? I'll show you."

Scenes flickered past, fast and blurry-like memories from a life she couldn't quite place.

She ran, clutching the stuffed animal she'd won, sprinting like she could outrun time itself.

But when they got home, the coach confiscated her prize, and her big brother got scolded too. She was punished with hours more of squats, and he stuck by her side the whole time.

She looked up, frustrated. "Why is coach so strict with me, big brother?"

He glanced away, his expression complicated, still holding the squat beside her.

"Big brother? Why won't you say anything? Coach is really strict. I'm kinda scared."

He cracked a smile. "Silly. He just wants you to be stronger, so your won't get tricked by some boy- someday. That stuffed animal doesn't mean anything. Taking you out isn't a big deal either."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

She grinned, lifting her hand like she was making a promise. "I'll get stronger. Someday, I'll protect you and coach." noveldrama

"You're such a goof," he teased.

Clara frowned in her sleep, chest tight, breath coming hard.

She didn't understand what any of it meant, but each memory landed heavy,

making her whole body ache.

Dylan was typing away when he heard her start to mutter.

"Big brother..."

"Big brother!!"

She shouted it and jolted awake, gasping.

Dylan's fingers froze on the keyboard. His hands trembled.

"You were calling for someone. Who?"