Chapter 9: The Ties That Bind
The greenhouse had become a prison.
Leah felt it every time she stepped through the door—like the air itself was thick with something that wasn't just the scent of wet earth and flowers. The walls of glass, once fragile but beautiful, now pressed in on her, suffocating. Each breath felt like she was breathing in too much, too fast, the oxygen thinning and turning to something heavier, something that weighed on her chest. The vines, the flowers, the life that had once been vibrant and full of promise now seemed like a cage, a trap. And it wasn't just the plants that were growing wild—it was her thoughts. Her mind. Her heart.
Because Clara was there.
Leah couldn't escape it.
The first time Clara had touched her was a moment Leah would never forget. It wasn't just a hand on her shoulder or a brush of fingers—no, it was something more. Something deeper. When Clara had stepped into her space, had touched her with the weight of unspoken words, Leah felt the thread between them tighten. There was no going back. Not anymore. Clara had become a part of her, like a shadow that could never be removed.
And now, every day felt like an endless cycle of pull and push. They didn't speak much anymore, but when they did, it was like a battle for control. Sometimes, Leah could feel Clara's gaze on her, a quiet pressure that made her skin crawl. Other times, Clara's presence seemed to settle over her like a blanket, something warm and comforting that made her feel almost normal. But it was never enough. Not enough to make the Beast go away. Not enough to make her feel alive again.
But Clara had her own demons, Leah realized. She was just as broken, just as lost. And that realization… that understanding… made Leah feel something she wasn't sure how to handle.
One afternoon, after a long stretch of silence between them, Clara sat across from Leah in the greenhouse, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Her head was bowed, her hair falling forward to shield her face. She looked like someone who was trying to hide from the world, from the pain she couldn't outrun.
Leah stared at her for a long time, watching the way the soft light filtered through the broken glass and made Clara's profile glow, made her look almost ethereal, like something otherworldly. And yet, she wasn't. She was as real as Leah herself. As real as the Beast that lived inside of her.
Leah's fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to touch her, wanted to pull Clara close, to feel her warmth, her pulse, but there was something that held her back. Something that made her hesitate.
Clara was the only person who ever made her feel like she wasn't alone in this world. But it was also Clara who reminded her that she had never been alone. That there had always been something inside of her, something dark, something hungry. And that hunger, that endless gnawing need to destroy, had only grown since she'd met Clara.
It was a poison that couldn't be undone.
"Why do you stay here?" Leah asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Clara's head lifted at the sound of her voice, and Leah could see the weariness in her eyes, the exhaustion that came from carrying too many burdens. But there was something else there too—something deeper. Something Leah couldn't quite place.
"I stay because I don't know where else to go," Clara replied, her voice soft but steady. "I stay because I'm afraid of what will happen if I leave."
Leah frowned, sensing that there was more to it, more that Clara wasn't saying. But Clara didn't look like she was ready to share. Instead, she wrapped her arms tighter around her knees, as if to shield herself from whatever had been chasing her for so long.
Leah wanted to ask more, wanted to pry, but she couldn't. Not yet. Not when her own mind was still so chaotic. She stood up and walked to the back of the greenhouse, her boots crunching against the gravel, and for a moment, the space between them stretched, too long, too wide, until Clara finally spoke again.
"I don't want to hurt you," Clara said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Leah froze. The words hung in the air like smoke, thick and heavy.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Clara continued, her voice cracking. "But sometimes, I don't know how to stop myself. I think I've always been broken, Leah. Ever since… everything."
Leah turned around slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. She saw the vulnerability in Clara's eyes, the raw, unfiltered fear that no one had ever allowed her to show. And it hit Leah in a way she hadn't expected. It felt like she was staring at the reflection of herself—a distorted mirror, a version of herself she hadn't seen in years.
Clara wasn't the monster.
Neither was she.
The truth of that settled over Leah, making her legs feel weak. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the realization took root, something she hadn't allowed herself to believe before. She wanted to say something, wanted to make everything clearer, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she stood there, frozen, locked in a moment that felt like it was never meant to end.
Clara stood too, her hands shaking as she reached out toward Leah, but stopped just short, as if unsure whether to take the final step.
"You've never told me why you're so afraid of yourself," Clara said softly. "What happened to you, Leah? What did you do?"
The question stung. It always did. Leah had lived with the weight of her past for so long that even the thought of voicing it aloud felt like an impossible task. She hadn't been able to face it herself, let alone tell anyone else.
But Clara wasn't asking for answers. She was asking because she knew. She saw it in Leah's eyes, in the way she carried herself, in the way she was trying to keep herself together despite the cracks.
Leah took a deep breath, the words finally finding their way to the surface. "I don't know how to stop," she whispered. "The Beast inside me… it makes me feel like I can't breathe sometimes. Like it owns me."
Clara stepped closer then, her fingers brushing the edge of Leah's sleeve. "Maybe we can figure it out together," she said, her voice low, a promise threaded through her words.
Leah didn't know what to say to that. The thought of it—the idea of letting someone in—terrified her. She had lived so long with the Beast inside of her that the idea of anything or anyone making it stop felt like a cruel joke. But Clara wasn't asking for her to change. She was just offering a chance. A chance that Leah didn't think she deserved.
Still, she didn't pull away. She didn't run.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Leah let someone else get too close. She let Clara see the cracks, the parts of her that weren't just dark, but broken.
And Clara didn't run.
Instead, she cupped Leah's face in her hands, her thumbs brushing across Leah's jawline, gentle, tender, and for a second, it felt like the world stopped. Like time held its breath.
"Maybe you don't have to stop," Clara whispered. "Maybe you just need someone to help you carry it."
Leah's breath caught in her throat. The words she had never been able to say—the ones she had buried so deep inside—rose to the surface.
"I don't want to be alone anymore."
Clara's expression softened, her fingers tracing the outline of Leah's face as though memorizing it. "You don't have to be."
The moment stretched, too long, too fragile, like it could shatter if either of them moved too quickly. But neither of them did. They stayed there, standing in the middle of the greenhouse, surrounded by the growing chaos of the plants, the silent witness to the truth they both carried inside them.
Leah didn't know what would happen next. Didn't know if Clara could fix her, or if the Beast would ever let go. But for the first time, there was a spark of something she hadn't felt before—a thread of hope, twisted and knotted, but real.
The rain continued to pour outside, beating against the glass, but inside, for once, it was quiet.
For once, she wasn't alone.