Chapter 2 - The Shape of Absence
The leather sofa squeaked sharply in the dark living room.
Clara’s eyes snapped open.
Her pupils were blown wide, reflecting the ambient street light filtering through the blinds.
She sucked in a breath so fast it rattled in her throat.
Her fingers clawed at the beige cardigan draped over her shoulders, her nails scraping the wool.
She threw her legs off the couch.
Her bare feet hit the hardwood floor with a heavy, uncoordinated slap.
She didn't turn on a light.
She sprinted down the hallway, her shoulder glancing hard against the doorframe of the nursery.
She didn't stop to rub the bone.
The nursery was bathed in the pale, sterile glow of a star-shaped nightlight.
In the center of the room sat a solid white wooden crib.
Clara’s hands slammed onto the wooden railing, shaking the entire structure.
She stared down at the mattress.
The mattress was perfectly flat.
There was a small, warm indentation in the center of the fitted sheet.
It was empty.
Clara’s jaw unhinged.
Her hands flew up, tangling into her messy, shoulder-length brown hair.
She yanked hard enough to pull strands from the roots.
She spun around, her bare feet slipping slightly on the rug.
She bolted for the front hallway.
The heavy front door was closed.
She hit the brass handle with both palms, shoving her entire body weight against the wood.
The door burst open, slamming against the exterior siding.
She tumbled out onto the concrete porch.
May you like
The cold night air hit her lungs like broken glass.
---
