POV: Clara

Clara sat on the edge of her bed, with a half-packed duffel bag on the floor.

She packed jeans, a sweater, her old passport, and the emergency credit card she hadn’t used in years. She kept jamming things into it with quivering fingers, chanting under her breath.

Distance. Just distance.

All she had to do was put distance between them. Leave town. Don’t look back.

Then the claw marks would be just splintered wood in someone else’s ...