Before I could protest, a maid led me to the dressing room.
“Ma’am, Mr. Croft sent me to help you change.”
She spoke gently as she began to unbutton my worn shirt. But her face blurred, merging with the face of the female warden who had stripped me that day. I shoved the maid away, dropping to the floor and wrapping my arms tightly around myself.
“No… please, don’t,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Don’t take my clothes off. I’ll be good. Please.”
“Ma’am! Ma’am, what’s wrong?”
The commotion brought Julian storming into the room. “Clara, what is it now?” he roared.
His voice snapped me back to reality. I clutched the collar of my shirt. “Julian, tell them to leave. I don’t need help. I have hands. I can change myself.”
He dismissed the maid, then grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. A small, cruel smile played on his lips. “It seems that place did teach you something after all.”
When I was alone, I stared at the horrifying scars peeking out from under my sleeves. I chose the most conservative, high-necked dress I could find, a complete departure from my old style.
The moment I walked out, everyone, including Julian, stared in shock. Ignoring their whispers, I walked to the familiar grand piano.
My fingers hovered over the keys, each one trembling with the strain and the memory of pain. It had been a year, but the melody was still etched in my soul. I knew, however, that I could never again produce the beautiful music of my past.
When the last note faded, the room erupted in murmurs. Not of applause, but of confusion and disappointment. My performance had been a disaster.
Julian’s face was a thundercloud. He leaned in close, his voice a low growl. “Is that the only piece you know how to play, Clara? Are you intentionally trying to humiliate me with that pathetic performance?”
“I’m sorry.”
I closed the piano lid and practically fled the room.
As I curled up in a ball behind my bedroom door, the sound of beautiful piano music drifted from downstairs. It was Stella Reed. My former best friend. The woman Julian had always loved.
He had only married me because his family’s legacy was tied to the power of mine. But a year ago, my family had fallen. My parents, who had cherished me like a jewel, were gone—my father leaped from his office window, my mother followed him with a bottle of pills. In those few short days, I thought I had lost everything a person could lose.
I didn’t know it was only the beginning. My pride, my dignity, my very self—all of it had been stripped away.
The memories brought a sharp, stabbing pain to my chest. My hand trembled as I pulled a small bottle from my purse and shook out a few pills. I’d been diagnosed with severe depression three months into my stay at the facility. Now, I needed a handful of pills just to survive the day.
The music outside stopped, replaced by a soft knock. “Clara? It’s Stella. Are you in there?”
I quickly swallowed the pills and hid the bottle just as she pushed the door open.
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