Where Petals of Vengeance Bloom

Vincent huddled in the shadowy alley beside an overflowing dumpster.

"Claire, I let you down."

This is what I deserve.

So this is what it feels like to have your leg shattered-a pain so sharp it robs you of breath.

So this is what it feels like to be despised by everyone-shame curling up, small and cold, inside your chest.

So this is what it's like to go hungry-each ache in your stomach a fresh reminder of your failure.

Back then, when I was about to start college, you worked yourself to the bone, Claire. Even though you were drowning in schoolwork, you threw yourself into every competition, determined to win first place and the scholarship that came with it-every cent of which you gave to me.

And now, just like before, you left me most of your money, keeping barely enough for yourself.

Claire... have you forgiven me?

Memories flickered through Vincent's mind, scenes from their years together at the orphanage-Claire's eyes always bright with trust when she looked at him.

She'd follow him everywhere, like a little shadow, and he'd sworn he would always protect her.

The tears came before he realized it.

"If I'd known it would come to this, maybe I never should've studied law," he whispered. "Maybe if I hadn't become a lawyer, it wouldn't have ended this way between us."

He sat there mumbling to himself for a long time before finally tearing open the bread and eating it in big, desperate bites.

Claire, for your sake if nothing else, I have to pull myself together.

Claire and May returned to the Foster house.

Mrs. Foster was sitting on the couch arranging flowers. As soon as she saw Claire come in, she set everything aside, her face lighting up with a warm, grandmotherly smile. "Claire, you're home!"

Claire had already composed herself before stepping through the door, a cheerful smile fixed on her face.

"Hi, Grandma."

But Mrs. Foster's smile faltered the instant she got a good look at Claire. Concern clouded her eyes.

"Claire, your eyes are so red! Have you been crying? Did someone upset you? Tell me, darling-let Grandma take care of it."

A wave of warmth washed over Claire, nearly bringing her to tears all over again.

It really is true-people who care about you can see right through you.noveldrama

She thought back to her time with the Linwoods. When Brian forced her to kneel at Irene Cole's hospital bed, she bowed so hard her forehead bled, the thick white bandage glaringly obvious. The Linwoods never even noticed.

Now, all she had was a faint redness around her eyes from crying, but Mrs. Foster spotted it right away.

Claire drew a steadying breath, forcing her emotions back below the surface.

She put on a bright smile and explained, "It was just the wind outside. Some grit got in my eye-I had to rub it for ages."

Mrs. Foster finally relaxed, but worry still lingered. Claire's health was fragile, and the old woman's greatest fear was that someone outside would hurt her.

But even something as small as dust in her eye made her anxious. She quickly called over to the housekeeper, "Grace, bring the eye drops, please." "Grandma, really, I'm fine."

But Mrs. Foster wouldn't hear of it. She gently but firmly guided Claire to the sofa,

then had her lie down with her head resting in her lap.

She cradled Claire like she was her own granddaughter, holding her close.

Claire's throat tightened, emotion stinging her eyes again.

Just as the tears threatened to fall, Mrs. Foster administered the drops.

The cool liquid hit her eyes and, under its cover, Claire's tears finally spilled over.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Mrs. Foster asked anxiously.

Grace and May hurried to her side, all three faces peering down at Claire with

concern.

Claire quickly put on a nonchalant front. "The drops are really cold."

Mrs. Foster let out a relieved sigh. "There, there. Be brave-once I'm done, your eyes will feel better."

Claire smiled up at her, eyes never leaving the old woman's face.

Mrs. Foster applied another round of drops, but each time, tears mingled with the medicine and trickled down Claire's cheeks.

Puzzled, Mrs. Foster asked, "Why do they keep streaming out like that?"

"Maybe my eyes just don't like water," Claire quipped.

Mrs. Foster couldn't help but laugh. "You silly girl-you always know how to make me smile."