Chapter 11 - Erasing the Scars
The house was eerily quiet once the car disappeared. Eleanor walked back inside, shutting the conservatory doors and locking what remained of the frame. She leaned the shotgun against the kitchen table and finally let out a long, ragged exhale. Her left wrist was swollen and turning a deep purple.
Clara was sitting on the kitchen floor, staring blankly at the dark stain soaking into the antique wool rug in the foyer.
“He’s dead,” Clara whispered, her voice barely audible. “Mom… Julian is dead.”
“He is gone,” Eleanor corrected gently, kneeling beside her daughter despite the agony in her wrist. She took Clara’s face in her good hand, forcing her daughter to look into her eyes. “Listen to me, Clara. Julian Vance went missing after leaving our house last night. He told me he was looking for you. He left to check the interstate. That is the only story anyone will ever hear.”
“The blood, Mom… it’s everywhere.”
“We clean it,” Eleanor said firmly. “We clean it, we pack two suitcases, and we leave before noon. My sister’s cottage in Maine has been empty for five years. Nobody knows the property exists except me.”
May you like
Clara nodded slowly, the panic finally beginning to recede, replaced by the instinct to survive. Together, they spent the next two hours on their knees with bleach and vinegar, erasing every trace of the nightmare that had crossed their threshold.
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