Chapter Eight

Pyotr

My body relaxes into the hug after several seconds. My tense muscles begin to loosen. Clara rests her head on my shoulder, soft cries escape her lips. I rub my hand in a circular motion on her back.

This is exactly why I need to stop Tatiana's group. So people like Clara are no longer hurt.

Clara lifts her head from my shoulder, her grassy green eyes meet my own. I am caught by the beauty of her eyes. The green is deep like an endless field. Her thick lashes blink slowly releasing tears.

I reach out smoothing Clara's wild red hair before standing up. I hold my hand out, helping to pull her to her feet. Reaching into my back pocket I pull out a handkerchief and hand it to her. Tentatively she reaches out her pale, boney fingers taking the handkerchief.

I watch as she dries her blotchy face when the material. Her cheeks blushed red, as she stares at the floor. Her green eyes, hooded by her dark red lashes. I lean against the table, troubled over what