Chapter 5 - THE COLD GLANCES
"Clara."
The voice was distant, but it cut through the hollow dripping of the well with a terrifying clarity.
Clara scrambled up, pressing her back against the slick, mossy stones, her wide, terrified eyes staring up toward the small opening at the top of the shaft. The silhouettes of two people appeared against the gray sky, blocking out the faint light of the moon.
It was Julian and Evelyn. From her perspective down in the dark pit, they looked like heartless giants looking down at a trapped insect. Suddenly, a bright, powerful beam of a heavy-duty flashlight cut through the darkness, hitting Clara directly in her wet, bruised face. She winced, shielding her eyes with her bloody hand.
"Julian! Please!" Clara screamed, her voice raw and cracking with pure desperation. "Please, pull me up! It’s freezing down here! The baby... she’s kicking, she’s alive! Please don't do this!"
Evelyn leaned slightly over the edge of the stone well, her styled white hair catching the bright edge of the flashlight’s beam. Her face was entirely blank, devoid of any anger or malice—just a cold, clinical indifference as she looked down at her daughter-in-law drenched in filth and blood.
"You brought this upon yourself by snooping, Clara," Evelyn’s voice drifted down, echoing hollowly off the wet stones. "We had a highly comfortable, quiet room prepared for you at the clinic. But now, you will stay down there where you cannot make any noise. Dr. Thorne will monitor your status. When the child is ready to be delivered, we will extract her safely. Until then, the well will keep you quiet and secure."
Julian stepped up to the edge, looking down at his pregnant wife. He held a crystal champagne flute in his right hand, taking a slow, casual sip. He didn't look angry; he looked completely bored, as if he were supervising a routine construction project.
"Goodbye, Clara," Julian said flatly, not a single trace of emotion in his eyes.
May you like
With a heavy, scraping metallic sound, the two security guards slid a massive, heavy iron grate across the top opening of the well, locking it into the stone frame with a thick, heavy padlock. The tiny gray disc of the sky vanished, replaced by a cold, geometric lattice of iron shadows.
The flashlights clicked off. The silhouettes disappeared. Clara was plunged back into an absolute, terrifying darkness, left alone in the freezing mud with her bruises, her raw fingers, and the ticking clock of her unborn child's life.
