As we saw her, we didn’t even think about checking her pulse. She looked dead. She didn’t seem like she was breathing. We were such idiots, with our brains too fried from what we’ve seen in front of our eyes.
Clara’s body, now 18 years old, isn’t moving at all. When Lucas turns his gaze to mine, I see in his tearful eyes a profound confusion, but also hope.
He takes her body into his arms and runs out the door without saying another word. We follow him quietly, thinkingabout how stupid we could’ve been that we didn’t check her pulse and let her hang there while we poured our hearts out.
?
A bird that seemed lost?
It is as clear as day that she means Clara. That’s logical, but I don’t get her relation to Cathal. Or Bianca. She surely knows Paul’s story, but I don’t get how little Clara ended up a tortured teenager, especially in the haunted place she’d been held.
The perfect sacrifice?
I don’t see how it’s perfect when no one was actually sacrificed. Yes, it looked like a sacrifice, but it makes no sense.
No, more than that.
Maybe she means the cadaver Lucas and Paul found? I make a mental note to ask them after I process all these poem lines.
The second-to-last part scares me the most.
A successful experiment.
I think about so many possible options that I don’t even know what should be true and what's only in my mind.
All I know is that we need to find Bianca’s location before her actions become more disastrous.
She knew we would find Clara. She strategically put her in the first building we would be looking in. She knew me too well.She was aware that I always started solving a problem from its origin.
The only logical possibility was that she injected Clara with some drug made by her. But, I don’t know what to fucking expect from that crazy woman and Cathal, especially after the shit…
“I’m also waiting for something to happen, but I think you need to know what we found out,” Paul says, sniffling his nose in a tissue and getting me out of my thoughts.
We used the tunnel to get to the hotel so as not to attract too much attention. The glares received until the tunnel entrance were enough. I didn’t need the stupid questions asked by the reception staff. Especially not Raymond. That man was too big an accomplice, and not just for Marshall.
Now we are all sitting on chairs surrounding the bed in my room from my apartment, in which Clara has been put. That is after we bandaged all of her wounds. I raise my gaze to Paul, as to say he can talk and get over with it. At least, with that piece of information, we can complete this fucking puzzle.
“Shoot. It can’t get any worse than this anyway,” I tell him.
“Cathal is dead,” Paul says in one breath.
He looks so peaceful after he tells us, like his brain wasn’t able to contain it for much longer. It’s seen in the way he was agitatedly playing with his fingers.
It takes me a couple of seconds to process, fluttering my eyelashes.
“Wait, what?” I ask, looking at him and Lucas. “What do you mean,Cathalis dead?”
“Dead, with half of his brain taken out, no eyes, the kind of dead man you only see in the movies!” Paul screams.
I exchange gazes with Blake, and none of us seems to understand this.
Pff, someone was faster. It even looks like they had lots of fun. I’m jealous that I didn’t think of that. The brain seems a…
Anora, fuck off!
Never.
“Well, for whom does Bianca work then? What is her deal with Clara?” I ask, extremely confused. “The perfect sacrifice didn’t refer to her, but Cathal,” I manage to put some information that went through my mind piece by piece.
