Chapter 6

The sun slowly rose over the tops of the pine trees. It cast a pale, cold, and unforgiving morning light over the muddy dirt path.

Clara dragged her feet along the rough shoulder of the highway. Every single step sent a sharp, agonizing spike of pain shooting up her leg from where the heavy wooden door had crushed her toes. She was forced to walk with a pronounced, painful limp, biting her lip to keep from crying out. Her worn shoes were completely soaked through with freezing morning dew, making her toes ache with every step.

She clutched her muddy duffel bag tightly against her chest. Her muscles ached deeply, a heavy, throbbing pain from spending half the night shivering in the unforgiving woods.

Clara finally reached her street. The familiar, peeling paint of her rundown house came into view, offering absolutely no comfort, only a deep, sinking dread in her stomach.

She stepped onto the front porch. Her hand trembled violently as she reached out and grabbed the cold brass doorknob.

The door was unlocked. Clara pushed it open and stepped inside. The warm, rich, bacon-scented air of the kitchen immediately hit her freezing face.

Brenda and Tiffany were sitting comfortably at the small dining table. They were eating a hot breakfast of eggs and bacon, laughing loudly together.

Tiffany looked up. Her perfectly applied, glossy pink lips curled into a nasty sneer as she took in Clara's disheveled, mud-stained appearance.

Tiffany mockingly asked if the ugly ex-con had thrown her out like the garbage she was. Her voice dripped with venomous, delighted amusement.

Clara ignored her stepsister. She dropped her muddy bag onto the clean linoleum floor and walked straight to the kitchen sink, desperate for a glass of tap water.

Brenda slammed her ceramic coffee mug hard onto the table. The hot, dark liquid splashed violently over the rim, staining the cheap tablecloth.

Brenda marched across the kitchen. She grabbed Clara roughly by the shoulder and spun her around, pulling her away from the sink.

Brenda demanded to know why Clara was back. Her voice screeched, echoing painfully off the small kitchen walls and making Clara's head pound.

Clara, completely exhausted and swaying on her feet, whispered that the man had point-blank refused to take her in. She leaned her hip heavily against the counter for physical support.

Brenda let out a loud, highly dramatic groan. She threw her hands in the air, cursing Clara for being completely useless and ruining all their lives.

Tiffany chimes in from the table. She casually filed her fingernails, stating coldly that if Clara didn't marry him, Walter would ruin her own chances of moving to the city for cosmetology school.

Clara glared at Tiffany. A spark of weak anger flared in her chest. She asked how her stepsister's cosmetology school was possibly more important than keeping her father out of a state prison.

Brenda stepped directly between them. She poked a hard, sharp finger into Clara's chest, forcing her to stumble backward against the cabinets.

Brenda reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. It was a school tuition bill for Daniel, Clara's younger brother. She shoved it aggressively into Clara's face.

Brenda weaponized Daniel instantly. She stated with absolute venom that if Walter ruined the family financially, Daniel would have to drop out of high school today.

Clara's breath caught sharply in her throat. Her chest tightened. Daniel was her absolute weak point, the only family member she truly loved and desperately wanted to protect.

Brenda saw the hesitation in Clara's eyes and pressed harder. She accused Clara of being a selfish, worthless sister who actively wanted to destroy her little brother's entire future.

Clara shook her head. Tears of pure, helpless frustration welled up in her eyes. The emotional blackmail hit its mark perfectly, paralyzing her will to fight back.

Brenda bent down and grabbed Clara's muddy duffel bag from the floor. She marched aggressively toward the open front door.

She threw the heavy canvas bag out onto the front lawn. It landed with a wet thud in the cold, wet morning grass.

Brenda turned back and grabbed Clara by the arm. She dragged Clara's weak, physically exhausted body across the floor toward the open doorway.

Clara tried to resist. She gripped the wooden doorframe with white knuckles, begging desperately for just a few hours of sleep before she tried to go back to the woods.

Tiffany walked over slowly. She casually peeled Clara's freezing fingers off the wood, one by one, with a cruel, highly satisfied smile on her face.

Brenda shoved Clara hard in the center of her chest. The force sent Clara stumbling backward, her feet slipping as she fell out onto the wooden porch.

Brenda glared down at her with venomous, desperate eyes. "You don't step a single foot back into this house until you have his ring on your finger! You are going to marry that freak, or you can die out there in the woods!" The front door slammed shut with a violent, echoing crack. The deadbolt slid into place with a heavy click, locking Clara out of her own home until she fulfilled the sick, twisted bargain.

Clara sat frozen on the wet porch. With trembling hands, she unzipped her muddy duffel bag, her heart dropping into her stomach. She reached into the center and pulled out the flannel shirt. As she unrolled it, sharp pieces of broken glass cascaded onto her lap. The heavy fall from Harrison's porch had completely shattered her father's framed photograph. She stared at the ruined, splintered wood and the torn picture, the only good memory she had left now destroyed just like her life.