Sorry, I’m not Cinderella

As the hours passed, Clara writhed in pain. Struggling with the temptation of death. Continue to drag on lest she no longer has the strength to overcome.

“Fighting Clara! You can do it!”

Bertha whispered, tears falling unconsciously. Seeing Clara gradually weaken made her unable to hold back any longer. Unable to do anything for her, Bertha sat there, staring at her strangely contorted face.

Martha was still on her knees, looking up at the picture of mercy hanging above Clara’s bed. Tears could not hold her back to let them flow.

They both know what to do to help her, but the feeling of not being able to help is unsettling.

Prolonged convulsions, Clara may die. They need to put her on her side or face down on the floor. Remove any sharp objects near her, loosen tight clothing and hold her to prevent injury. Do not put anything in your mouth or try to stop seizures.

They know but they can’t act. They couldn’t touch her. Most of all, magic is also limited to the fullest after they intentionally misused it to help Clara get rid of bullying from others.

Feelings of helplessness and guilt tormented both of them.

Who said angels don’t have emotions like humans? They also know the pain and know what piety is.

And most of all, the feeling of helplessness was pressing down on both of their chests.From NôvelDrama.Org.

We must rely on Clara’s extraordinary energy. They knew the convulsions would stop on their own, as long as Clara persistently pushed them away.

Both of their hearts stopped beating and their breaths seemed to be strangled by invisible hands, they looked up in trust and waited.

A cold wind blew over the house, what a melancholy feeling.

Xenia rolled over in her warm bed, tossing and turning, she had no restful sleep, when the lightning was furiously venting its fury, she was delirious in a terrible nightmare, she saw her standing there, at the end of the bed, looking at her with a cynical smile. Long hair fluttering, fluttering in the cold night wind. A stream of red blood ran from her head, falling limply, drenching her holy face. She rolled her eyes, mumbled without a sound, and struggled in an unsuccessful attempt to get out of her gruesome image. That’s creepy.

Electric lights flicker, sometimes dim, sometimes clear. Xenia squeezed her eyes shut, comforting herself, ‘she’s gone.’

As expected, when she opened her eyes, she was no longer standing there. However, the obsession didn’t stop, she got goosebumps when she felt someone was close to her, rolled her eyes, she panicked when she saw Clara’s mother stretch out her hand as if to strangle her.

“How dare you do that to Clara?”

She screamed in horror. Waking up from the dream, panting in an attempt to dispel the fear. Cold sweat poured down his guilty face.

She sat in a daze, shivering, her eyes glazed over the room. Lightning outside the window made a bright parrot that startled her. It was as if someone was looking at her with angry eyes.

Suddenly she thought in horror of Clara.

Is she dead?

She shook her legs off the bed and went upstairs to check, the electric light flickered. She stiffened and opened the door to her room.

Hearing the door open, Bertha looked up.

Is she dizzy or is she hallucinating when she’s panicking? she saw Bertha sitting there, beside Clara, looking at her with murderous intent.

Terrified, she screamed and immediately rushed downstairs, climbed into bed, and covered herself with blankets. She trembled as if she had just seen a ghost.

His mouth kept muttering an apology.

Turns out I know fear too!

oOo

No matter what happens, dawn always wakes up to welcome the new day as the most natural one. After the storm, the sky was much clearer. But Clara still lay there struggling against her own destiny.

The space seemed to be quiet, suddenly Sarah’s shrill voice was heard. Grasping her favorite dress, she burst into a frenzy, Clara forgot to put her clothes on yesterday, so it rained that night, and her beautiful floral dress got wet, this morning she wanted to wear it to school, and yet, even then, it wasn’t even intact, the strong wind caused the skirt to flutter, and the tree branch was torn in a big way.

“Clara!” She shouted her name, exasperated: “Get out of here now.”

Looking at the dress in her hand, her eyes sparkled, she was full of murderous intent.

No one answered, no sign of her rushing to run when called, usually, when called she was always right after. But today Sarah stood still in the laundry room and did not see her.

“Clara! Are you deaf?”

The second time there was still nothing.

“You’ve come to the end of the line.” She stammered, extremely annoyed that she ignored her. Clutching the dress in her hand, she rushed up to Clara’s room.

Without knocking, she just kicked it open with her foot. Constantly cursing.

“You eat lobster liver or what, you dare to ignore my words. Sit up, I have something to settle with you.”

She still didn’t react. Didn’t know she was in. Seeing her lying motionless, she became more enraged that she was making fun of her.

“Still lying around and refusing to get up? Don’t play with me.” She threatened, glaring at her.

Useless, she still didn’t react. Sarah lost her patience, and stepped forward, roughly pulling her out of bed.

She pushed the softball away from her body. Still, nothing changed.

“You’re so good at pretending, you haven’t even gotten up yet.”

Her voice is as sharp as hers.

“Did I tell you to wake up?” She screamed, clearly driving her crazy. By the way, she threw the wet dress she was holding at Clara’s face. However, she still did not respond.

“Don’t like to be heavy? It seems you like me to use violence, right?”

Sarah got hotter, reached out, and grabbed Clara by the collar, wanting to help her sit up. But she drew her hand back as soon as she touched it, terrified as the bone-chilling air caressed her skin.

Thanks to the sudden release of her hand, Clara fell back to her old position.

No reaction, no pain.