Chapter 6

“Hello Clara,” the red-haired woman greeted with a snide smile. “I am glad to see you survived your near-death experience. I thought I would never see you again.” 

Clara felt a chill down her spine from the mysterious woman’s words. She had to be someone who had tormented the real Clarissa. Her body was telling her to run. 

“I don’t know you,” Clara said plainly and walked past the woman. 

“Beryl, I thought I said to greet Clara later,” James said sharply. “Did you forget? I don’t want her to get overwhelmed by lots of new faces.” 

Clara looked back at the woman. Now she had a name to put to the face. Beryl was a good actress; she did look like she was sorry. There was still an insincere look in her eyes despite the apologetic expression on her face. 

“I forgot, sorry,” Beryl said. “I’ll pop by later to say hello to her.” 

Clara hoped that she wouldn’t. She didn’t know why Beryl was standing there. James had said there were staff members who worked in the house, but it didn’t feel like Beryl could be one of them. Her short purple dress and heels didn’t seem practical for working. Her long red hair wasn’t tied back either. 

“You might as well say hello now,” James said. “You’ve already spoken to her.” 

“Hello Clarissa, I’m Beryl Hudson and I’m dating your grandfather,” Beryl said with a smirk and came towards her. 

Clara shrank back from the outstretched arms. Her skin was crawling in fear. It had to be a reaction from Clarissa’s memories. Clara tried her best to not show her fear. She had faced off a school full of bullies until her last moment, handling one woman couldn’t be difficult for her. 

Beryl’s long arms closed the gap between them. Her perfume smelled expensive and cloying. Clara felt even sicker. 

“Hello,” she said awkwardly and slid out of the embrace. 

“Clarissa, I think that’s enough stimulus for you now,” James said to her and took her hand. 

Clara smiled in relief although she was confused about his relationship with Beryl. Surely, he could see that she was a bitch who wore too much perfume? James had come across as a sharp businessman, he should be able to spot fakery. 

James led her through the hallway. Clara attempted to look casual with her glances around. The house was fancier than anything she had ever seen. The hallway was decorated with delicate flowered wallpaper, expensive paintings and there were vases of fresh flowers on every table. Thankfully Beryl didn’t follow them.

“I would suggest going to your bedroom and having a shower. Then you can come down and have some afternoon tea with me,” James said to her. “You always spent a long time in your bedroom so it might bring back some memories.” 

Clara was fine with that plan as long as Beryl wasn’t involved. She really wanted to see Caiden and ask if Beryl was the cause of Clarissa’ suicide attempt. She hadn’t seen him all day. 

James showed her to her bedroom and Clara muffled a gasp when she saw the interior. James smiled and left her standing in the middle of her new bedroom. The room was five times larger than her bedroom from her previous life. An interior designer had clearly been involved as all the decorations followed the same theme. 

Instead of being gloomy and dark like her real bedroom, it was white painted and well lit. The air smelled nice and fresh. On the desk by the window was an Apple mac and next to the desk were bookshelves filled with books in pristine condition. 

Clara walked over to the window. It had a plush window seat and overlooked the garden. It would be a nice place to sit in the sun and read a book.  

The bedroom had everything she could ever want for her bedroom. She could even see an easel propped against one of the closets. Clarissa might have had similar interests to her. 

She sat cautiously on the huge bed. The bedcovers were powder blue and it felt soft. She lay down and noticed that the ceiling above the bed showed a carefully hand painted galaxy. There was an amateurish feel to it so she guessed it was done by Clarissa possibly when she was younger. 

Her mind was doing anything to forget about Beryl. She stretched her arms and felt her hair. She really did need to wash her hair. The nurse at hospital had helped her have showers, but it hadn’t been possible to wash her long hair properly. 

She noticed a door on the other side of the room. Perhaps it led to an ensuite bathroom. The house was huge so it would make sense. She pushed the door open and was pleased to find it did lead to an ensuite bathroom. 

The bathroom was pink themed and had clearly been designed with a teenage female in mind. Clara liked the idea of not having to share a bathroom ever again. There had been lots of disagreements over the bathroom with the other adopted children at home. 

The bath was a freestanding claw footed bath that she had only ever seen in movies. The shelf by the bath was stocked with bath salts and lots of bottles of bubble bath. Clara approached the shelf to take a closer look at the available scents. The bath caught her eye for some reason and she shivered. 

Was that another reaction from Clarissa’s body? 

Clara remembered that she had slit her own wrists in a bath and took a deep breath. She had managed to not think about it much since she had woken up. She wasn’t going to be beaten by the sight of a bath. 

“Are you settling in well?” 

Clara turned to see Caiden standing by her. She folded her arms. 

“Where have you been? I’ve had so much to ask you.” 

“I was otherwise occupied and it was best for you to experience things by yourself,” he explained and leaned against the bathtub. “Don’t have a bath, James will think it’s odd.” 

Clara took a moment to work out what the significance of a bath would be. Clarissa must have also slit her wrists in a bath. 

“Okay,” she said and immediately moved onto the most important subject. “Is Clarissa’s suicide attempt something to do with Beryl?” 

“You’re quick,” Caiden said. “Yes, it is. How did you guess?” 

“She’s obviously a bitch,” Clara said plainly. “I felt an oddly visceral reaction when I met her.” 

Caiden raised an eyebrow. “That’s interesting to know. There must still some latent memories in her body.” 

“When are you going to give me Clarissa’s memories?” Clara asked. “I really need them soon. I’ve been slipping up as an American.” 

“I was going to give them to you now,” Caiden told her. “The time is right. You can claim that the familiar surroundings brought your memories back.” 

Clara perked up at the knowledge she was finally going to know about Clarissa. There were so many things she wanted to find out about her. 

“It’s best to be relaxed when you get the memories,” Caiden said. “I suggest lying down on the bed. It looks very comfortable.” 

Clara decided that he was right and walked back to the bedroom and lay down on the bed. The pillow was just the right softness without being too soft. Caiden sat down next to her and softly touched her forehead. 

“I’m going to return the most recent memories first and then go backwards to the fainter memories,” he said. “You are going to feel distressed and lost until I’m done and you may wish I never gave her memories to you.” 

“Will you hold my hand?” Clara requested. 

If a demon was telling her she was going to feel distressed, she most definitely was. 

Caiden smiled and picked up her hand with his free hand. 

“I will. I’m going to start now.” 

Clara took a deep breath as the first wave of memories hit her. Seeing a different pair of bloodied hands and knife felt strange and then she felt all the emotions Clarissa had experienced and choked out a sob. Why had she wanted these memories? 

She dug her nails into Caiden’s hand and breathed deeply. She needed to get through this to get revenge. She could do it. 

The other memories from the day of Clarissa’s death were very blurry in places. Beryl had told Clarissa that she was wasting her privileged life with her incompetence and told her that she probably couldn’t even kill herself correctly.  

 Clara felt an unquenchable wave of anger towards Beryl. She really was a horrible woman. 

Next came the events leading up to Clarissa’s death. Beryl had relentlessly bullied her since her arrival by making degrading comments, tearing up her artwork and occasionally slapping her around the face when her grandfather went away.  

Clarissa’s emotions were all too familiar to Clara as a victim of bullying. There hadn’t been too much for Clarissa to look forward to in life. James had told her that he expected her to inherit the company which wasn’t something she had wanted to do.  

Clarissa had wanted to an artist, but she had only been good at copying famous works and struggled to compose her own work. 

Clara was surprised to see that Clarissa had no real friends either. Being rich had made her reluctant to trust any friends she made in case they were only friends with her for financial gain. 

Clarissa had no memories of any parents and had been told they were dead. Eventually the onslaught of memories came to an end. Clara slumped into the mattress. It was a lot to take in. 

Now she had two sets of memories depicting being the victim of bullying. It was strange how similar their lives had been despite the different countries and social class. Rich people weren’t always better off than the poor, their problems were just different. 

“Clara?” Caiden asked in concern.  

Clara felt her face and realised there were tears running down her face. Caiden looked understanding so she didn’t feel embarrassed about crying. 

“I’m... okay,” she said distantly. “I need a moment.” 

Clarissa’s memories were very strong at the moment. She forced them back so they wouldn’t overwhelm her every thought. 

“It will take some time to get used to have two sets of memories,” Caiden said. “Do you still need my hand?” 

“Just for a minute,” she admitted. 

She stared up at the ceiling. Now she knew she was right about Clarissa painting it, she had memories to back it up. Clarissa had painted it last winter and it had taken her several attempts and James had offered to hire someone to do it instead which had hurt Clarissa’s feelings. 

She continued holding Caiden’s hand for a lot longer than a minute, but he was kind enough to not comment on it.  

“What do you want to do now?” Caiden asked when she sat up. 

“Have a shower,” Clara said. “I want to wash my hair. Then afternoon tea. After that...” 

She thought about Beryl. She couldn’t let her get away with bringing Clarissa to suicide. It was definitely mostly Beryl’s influence that had led to Clara slitting her wrists, she had the memories to prove it. 

“What did you want to do after?” Caiden prompted. 

Clara grinned at him. 

“Plan my revenge against Beryl.” 

It was the right thing for her to do now that she was occupying Clarissa’s body. Beryl didn’t deserve to live a life free of consequences for the things she had done to Clarissa.