The Girl Before by Rena Olsen Page B

class?”
    I do not answer.
    â€œClara? Where was your dance class?”
    â€œIn the studio.”
    â€œWhich studio?”
    â€œThe one where we met.”
    Connor’s lips have thinned. I can only imagine Meredith’s reaction if she were here. I am glad she isn’t. Connor has always been more patient. But clearly his patience is running out as well.
    â€œNo, Clara,
which studio
?”
    I tilt my head. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œWhat was the name of it? Who was the teacher? What city was it in?”
    Scratching at the surface of the table, I hesitate. I’m treading on dangerous ground. I should have made up some completely random answer as to how I met Glen, but now I’m stuck. I can’t say which studio, or who taught it, because as far as Connor knows, I have never met Mama or Papa. My mind blanks, and I go with the easiest answer I can think of. “I don’t remember.”
    â€œLike hell.”
    My eyes widen. Connor is angry. How did I anger him so quickly?
    Connor stands and begins pacing. “I can’t help you, Clara, unless you help me. This doesn’t look good, you know.”
    I remain silent as I follow him with my eyes. Back and forth, back and forth.
    â€œThey want you to rot, Clara. They want to throw you in prison for the rest of your life. They think you are a part of all this, that Glen is only protecting you.”
    I shake my head, my mouth opening in silent protest. I don’t even know what “this” is, but I know I haven’t done anything wrong.
    â€œDo you want to spend the rest of your life in a cell, Clara? BecauseI promise you, it won’t be as nice as the space you’ve got now. These are plush accommodations, but you can’t stay in the psychiatric ward forever. Eventually you’ll have to make a choice that will determine where you go next.”
    My hands begin to tremble.
    â€œMeredith was all for throwing you in with the other inmates for a few nights, giving you a taste of what it would be like.” Connor runs his fingers through his hair, scrunching his hands in the strands so they stand out when he removes them. It would be funny if the look in his eyes weren’t so terrifying. He comes and leans his hands on the table, moving until his face is inches from mine.
    â€œYou wouldn’t last a night in that prison, Clara,” he whispers. “I don’t want to do that to you. Please, don’t make me do that to you.”
    I can feel the blood drain from my face, and the room begins to spin. “Clara!” Connor’s voice sounds far off. I try to catch myself as I topple from my chair, but my arms don’t respond. Fireworks explode behind my eyelids before everything goes dark.
    My ears ring as I float back to the surface of consciousness.
    â€œClara.” Gentle hands pat my cheeks. “Wake up.”
    I open my eyes and see Connor’s face, his blurry forehead creased in concern. As my vision focuses, I realize I am lying on the floor, my head in Connor’s lap, and my brain feels as if it is trying to escape from my skull.
    â€œI’m sorry, Clara, I wasn’t quick enough to catch you. You hit your head pretty hard.”
    I shake my head, trying to clear it, and spots dance in front of Connor’s face. I feel sick.
    â€œThe guards are coming to bring you to the medical wing.” Connor releases a long breath. “Please think about what I said. I don’t want to send you away, but if you won’t help me, I can’t help you.”
    There is no threat in his voice, only quiet desperation. I believehe truly does want to help me, and through the nausea I am experiencing, I feel a pang of guilt. I cannot give him what he wants. Because what he wants is to send Glen away. He hasn’t said it, but I have put the pieces together. They hope to use me for information to put Glen in prison. They want to put him away for things he did