It was half past three in the night, hardly six-seven hours since Claire's bail. The mansion was quiet and calm. Claire had retreated to her room hours ago. She sat in the grand hallway, laying her head on the couch as tears trickled down her cheeks. She remembered her grandmother. It was hard to believe that her grandmother was no more. A trace of regret crossed her face as she thought about it. How unlucky of her to be the cause of death of her beloved grandmother; moreover, her grandma passed away before Claire could even prove her innocence.
Her face pale and exhausted, she slept with her head on the couch. Cain slowly walked downstairs to find her sitting on the floor, her head angled in an uncomfortable position. Walking towards her, Cain lifted her, positioned her properly on the couch, and went back to his room to get the first-aid kit.
He sat on the floor near the couch and clicked open the box as quietly as possible to not disturb her. Gently soaking the cotton with saline, he put it on her wounds and anti-inflammatory ointment on the required areas. Finishing his work, he looked at Claire, who was sleeping peacefully with the dried tear marks on her face rolling all the way down to her neck.
He gently lifted her and got to her room, placing her on the bed. He looked at her for a moment and walked out. Going to the hallway, he took a deep breath, an image of Claire flashing before his eyes, bearing faint bruises Cain couldn't erase from his mind. She had said little, her responses clipped and distant. But as he bandaged the raw scars on her wrists, the marks seemed to be left by the chains that were tied to her in the prison. Cain went to his bedroom, closing the door. He seemed like he had no plans to be sleeping tonight.
-
The clock had barely struck midnight when a chilling scream pierced the stillness of the house. The sound echoed through the halls like a violent tremor, startling the sleeping staff and sending cold shockwaves through Cain's veins.
It was Claire. He recognized her voice, raw and trembling, but he thought those were just her screams in his head.
Moments later, a flurry of footsteps sounded outside her door as the maids hurriedly gathered, worry etched on their faces. One of them rushed to Cain's study, breathless and wide-eyed.
"Sir, it's Miss Claire. She's having a fit or a nightmare, sir. We don't know what to do." Without a word, Cain leapt from his chair, a chill of fear clenching his heart as he raced down the corridor. Each step felt heavy.
He threw open the door to find her curled up on the bed, trembling violently, her eyes shut tight, her hands gripping the sheets with a desperate force. Her face twisted in terror, her lips murmuring broken, terrified words that stabbed into him like shards of glass.
Cain's breath caught in his throat, the sight almost unbearable. It was as if she was still trapped in that cold, dark cell. Her entire body shuddered with fear, and the anguish on her face was like nothing he had ever seen.
Ignoring the ray of guilt crashing over him, Cain strode over to the bed. He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed and pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her tightly, his voice soft and calming.
"Shh, Claire. It's alright. You're safe now. I'm here. No one can hurt you."
She tried to free herself from his hold, screaming."Let me go! Ahh! No–no don't hurt me. No. Please let–Ahhhhh." Her screams were terrifying. Cain couldn't manage the situation; he continually assured her, but in vain.
"Beth, please help me! Tell them to stop. Beth, please help me." Her screams continued.
Cain, unable to control himself, was on the urge of a breakdown. Seeing her in such a horrible condition led to tears unknowingly rolling down his eyes. His voice was trapped inside his throat; he felt as though his tongue was tied.
Struggling, he slowly gulped down a fearful lump in his throat and consoled her. "Cla-Claire please. Relax. No one is hurting you." He murmured as he gently massaged her head.
She jolted at his touch but slowly stilled, as if recognizing the strength in his embrace. Her fists, once clenched in terror, loosened against his chest, and though her breathing remained ragged, the violent tremors began to fade.
"Bring a glass of water," he said quietly to the maid standing by, his voice barely audible. His gaze was fixed solely on Claire.
The maid quickly returned with the water, and Cain held the glass to Claire's lips, urging her to take a sip. "Just a little," he whispered, his tone soothing as he coaxed her to take a drink. Her lips brushed the rim, her hands still trembling as she took a sip, then another, the cold water steadying her.
He set the glass aside and gently wiped the tears that still clung to her cheeks. Her breathing softened, her face relaxing under his touch. Cain brushed a hand over her hair, his fingers weaving softly through the strands as he whispered words of comfort, each one laced with pain he could barely contain. "You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you again."
With a shaky exhale, she leaned into him, her body finally surrendering to the exhaustion that had gripped her. Cain felt her melt against him, her head resting on his chest, her breathing slow and even as she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, safe in his arms.
But for him, there was no peace. Not with her weight against him. Her tear-streaked face nestled into his chest, trusting him despite everything he did. The very sight of her calm and at ease only deepened the guilt clawing at his heart.
How could I have done this to her? The thought tore through him like a blade, each answer more damning than the last. He had been the reason for her suffering, the cause of the torment she now faced in sleep. Every bruise, every broken scream—those were on him.
As he watched her, his heart clenched with a mixture of love and agony. He wanted nothing more than to protect her, to guard her from every shadow and every nightmare that dared to touch her. But he also knew he was the one responsible for her condition.
He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips trembling against her skin. "I'm sorry, Claire," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so, so sorry."