Hunted - The past that kills [COMPLETE]

9 - Interrogation

Clara somehow hoped that, for some unknown reason, she would never wake up and never had to face the day where she was inevitably going to die. But fate worked in strange ways. That, and it was near impossible to simply go to sleep and never wake up again. So, just like normal, she woke up to Friday morning.

As she pried her eyes open, she noticed that she was lying in her bed, rather than on the floor where she had collapsed the night before. Assuming her mother had found her after coming home from her night out, she sat up groggily and hand a hand through her hair. Her sight shifted to her left wrist as she ran her fingers over the bandages firmly wrapped around where the jagged cuts had been. How on earth was she going to explain her new wounds to her mother...?

She got up slowly and went trudged to her wardrobe, throwing on some clothes without caring much about her look. Was fashion really worth it when she had the prospect of murder on her mind? She brushed her hair out and looked at the remains of her broken mirror, changing her mind and pulling a white beanie over her head.

She went downstairs and entered the kitchen, the scent of pancakes filling the air. As she went to sit down at the counter, her mother, who standing over the stove, turned around. Ms. Evans' eyes widened in surprise, her mouth slightly agape. She set aside her cooking and leaned over the other side of the counter to hug her daughter.

"Are you feeling okay? You looked sickly last night when I came home and you were lying on the floor in a cold sweat" she said in a quiet voice. She gently raised Clara's bandaged wrist "What on earth happened to you last night, did you hurt yourself?"

Clara averted her gaze to her mother's pendant necklace, the sapphire locket easier to focus on than her mother's green eyes. "No, not at all Mum. It's- I um..." She took a deep breath and composed herself.

"There was a van that was following Devon and me yesterday when we were walking back to her house. We managed to lose whoever was inside and got back to her house, but after I arrived home, it finally sank in. I had a panic attack in my room; after the attack at school and now this, I felt like I was at breaking point. I tried to steady myself but I knocked some stuff off of my nightstand. I got cut by them when I tried to get up again, my vision was blurry and I couldn't see where they were. I'm sorry I worried you..." she explained.

It wasn't the complete truth, but most of it was other than the part about cutting herself. She left out all the extra parts for obvious reasons, just hoping that her mother would buy the story to spare her more guilt. She internally sighed as her mother hugged her again and nodded before finishing up their breakfast.

Clara cleared her throat a moment later, a thought popping into her head "Can I ask you something, mum?"

"Sure dear, ask away" she replied, focused on the hot pancakes in front of her.

"I've been thinking about Dad lately... Did her, um, have anyone who disliked him at all? Someone who might've held a grudge against him?" Clara asked.

Ms. Evans stopped for a moment, staring at the picture of her late husband and her daughter on the counter top. She resumed her actions a few seconds later, "I don't believe so. Your father was a great man and had many friends and business associates galore. You couldn't have asked for a kinder person".

Clara frowned a little "Mum, surely that can't be right... There must have been someone, right?" she said, trying to get an answer.

"Darling, please. Start packing your bag and get your brother up, we don't have long until school" her mother replied, dodging the question.

Clara huffed, this time forcing her mother to stop and look at her "Mum, why are you lying to me? What don't you want me to know?" she asked sternly, looking into her mother's eyes.

Ms. Evans' head sank a little. "Sweetie, it's complicated. Your father had problems before he died. People didn't like him for different reasons, very few, but they were prominent and caused us trouble".

"But there was someone in particular, wasn't there? Someone close to him" Clara pressed on, determined to get a name.

"Clara, you don't need to know everything! There are some things you are better off not knowing" Ms. Evans raised her voice now, but her daughter glared at her.

"Is that why you never mentioned that Chris and I had an uncle?" she shot back defensively. "Matthew Evans, Dad's brother, not once did you mention to us that he existed. Why?"

Her mother became pale and still, "How do you know that name...? You were never supposed to know about him! How did you-" She was cut off as a sob escaped from her, "Clara if I tell you any more, it'll put you and Chris in danger. I was told last night not to say a word-".

"By who?" Clara asked, already knowing who it would be. She just needed the verbal clarification, to give her some sanity.

Ms. Evans wiped her nose and breathed out shakily. "I think you know who, you wouldn't be so persistent otherwise. You never ask about your father, so I knew something was off. Do me a favour sweetie and don't ask any more questions. Now, go get your brother" she told her daughter, turning away to wipe her teary eyes.

Clara sighed and nodded, walking back upstairs with a heavy heart but a hint of reassurance. She rammed her fist on her brother's door, not bothering with subtlety. "Wake up, douche bag! Mum wants you down for breakfast" I said. She heard a groan from inside the room. And I thought I was the lazy one, she thought.

She opened the door and marched into the room a second later, tearing open the blinds. "Get up now!" she ordered, glaring at the lump hidden partially by blankets. Chris rolled over in response, pulling the covers further over his head of sandy blonde hair.

Clara huffed impatiently, "Don't say I didn't warn you..." she muttered before leaping onto his bed, kneeing him with full force. He sat up quickly, groaning and wincing with his hands over his crotch.

"You know if you hit a man's dick hard enough, they could die from the pain, right?" Chris gasped, his voice jumping a good octave in pitch.

"Yep. And I can't wait till the day that I finally do it hard enough" Clara smirked, her worries left behind at the moment.

Chris pushed his sister off of his bed, dragging her out the door by the collar of her shirt like she was a dog. Before Clara could complain or fire another witty remark at him, he slammed the door in her face. What a wonderful love-hate relationship she thought, chuckling to herself as she walked back downstairs.