Page 8 of Bloodstained
I closed my eyes and exhaled. “Laszlo,” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut through his groggy haze. “We need to talk.”
He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Clara, can we postpone a conversation? My head hurts like hell?—”
“No. We are doing this now,” I cut him off and turned and faced him. “The way you acted at the tavern last night was disgusting. You drove a stake into the heart of this relationship, and now, I’m pulling it out for good. I can’t do this anymore.”
He blinked, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as my words sank in. “Fine. What do you want to talk about? Last night? I was drunk, I just miss you, and I overreacted, okay? Can we move on from it now?” His voice rose, the first hint of anger creeping in.
“It’s not just about last night,” I said, keeping my voice low, even, and most of all, calm. I stepped closer, my arms still crossed over my chest in a very defensive position. “This has been a long time coming, but I hadn’t put all the pieces together until I moved here and could think clearly.”
His face twisted into something ugly, his lips curling into a sneer as he sat up straighter. “You want to be alone?” he hissed, standing so quickly the couch groaned in protest as it slid back an inch on the hardwood floor. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is the route you want to go?”
I held my ground, meeting his glare with one of my own. “After everythingyou’vedone forme?” I snorted. “Like what? Making me feel like I’m worthless? Oh, yeah, Laszlo, you’ve been such a shining example of a partner since you found out I was leaving and doing something for me.”
His laugh was sharp and bitter. “You think you’re so much better than me now?”
I shook my head, never seeing this kind of vitriol come from him.
He moved toward me, his hands clenching, his nostrils flaringas he looked me in the eye. I took a step back, not liking the air coming from him. Before I could move further away, he latched onto my wrist. The pain was instant and shot through me, sharp and immediate, but I didn’t flinch. I didn’t back down.
“Let. Me. Go. Laszlo,” I said, my voice low and steady. Serious. “You don’t get to touch me. Not now. Never again.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his grip tightening as if testing me. But I didn’t look away. I didn’t cower. Finally, with a violent sound leaving his throat, Laszlo let go, and I stumbled back.
“You’ll regret breaking this off. I promise you, Clara,” he spat, grabbing his things and opening the front door. “You’ll realize what a wrong decision this is.”
I didn't bother responding as I watched him leave, slamming the front door shut. The sound reverberated through the small guesthouse. I stood there for a moment, my wrist throbbing and my heart racing. But I wasn’t unsure of the situation anymore. I was furious. And beneath that anger, I felt this calm settle deep in my body.
It was one I'd never felt before, and it was incredible.
I looked down at my wrist, the red marks in the shape of his fingers already beginning to darken. What just happened didn’t matter, not in the long run.
Because for the first time in…ever, I felt free.
The guesthouse suddenly felt too small, too confining. I looked out the window at the forest. With a plan set in mind, I grabbed my jacket and backpack, shoved some items inside, and stepped outside. I didn't know where Laszlo had gone but assumed he was walking to the train station, maybe letting off steam. It was a haul on foot, but perhaps the fresh air and sunshine would make him see what an ass he was.
The air was cool and damp, and the forest surrounding me called to the most primitive part of my soul.
I followed the nearest trail, my shoes crunching against the dirt and leaves. The further I wandered, the lighter I felt, as if each step was shedding the weight of the past. The sound of the birds above, of animals scurrying in the distance, and the smell of earth filled me.
A smile curved my lips as I walked farther into the wilderness and thought how wonderful it would be to just disappear into it altogether.
CHAPTER FIVE
CLARA
The forest stretched endlessly around me, the towering, ancient trees twisting together in a canopy, filtering in only a minimum of the golden sunlight.
I’d wandered farther than I planned, the trail disappearing behind me long ago, but I wasn’t worried.
I needed this.
I had felt out of place before. No matter where I went, it was like I was the square peg in a round hole. But when I’d come here—when I washere—everything swallowed me whole. The silence, the very shadows that seemed older than the earth itself wrapped themselves around me until I felt… warm and safe.
And yet, the strangest part wasn’t the place. It wasme.Every step I took echoed in front of me, like the trees and plants and mountains were trying to lure me forward.Lure me toward something.I should have been afraid. But I wasn’t. I enjoyed being alone and thought this foreign place really didn’t seem so foreign at all.
Sometimes, when I caught my reflection in the stream, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back. The features were mine, yes, but I stared into my eyes and felt like someone fromanother world was looking back at me. It was as if I was waiting for something I couldn’t name. As if I had lived a life I couldn’t recall, one that had been carved away and buried beneath time.
The solitude, the quiet hum of nature, and the raw, untamed beauty of this place made me feel like I’d been here before. It was like a memory I knew I didn’t have, but was so strong inside of me it was undeniable.
