*big group hug for the lovely reviews*

Ciaran O'Neill is after Clara, too... will John get to her in time?

Chapter 43

"And for tomorrow, please read chapters five and six," Clara told her students, raising her voice to be louder than the bell that heralded the end of the school day. "And by read I mean don't just skim. There'll be a test soon."

Her students groaned loudly to make their annoyance at the homework known and Clara vaguely remembered what it was like to be on the receiving end of additional schoolwork, but when it came to English lessons, she had always found it oddly enjoyable. Reading had never seemed like actual work to her, even when it was for school or later for university. But she knew that most students had a different opinion on the matter and it was why she usually gave more homework during the winter months to give her students a little more spare time later over the summer – because she knew that they would just go out and ignore the homework anyway.

"Is the test going to be tomorrow?" Harry, one of her lazier students, asked and it was obvious how inconvenient he found the idea.

Clara decided to play her cards a little more closely to her chest. If she said no, only a handful of students would actually read the chapters by tomorrow. If she said yes and there was no test, the students would complain. Either way, she couldn't win, so instead, she shrugged. "I don't know," she replied casually. "Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. In any case, it's best to be prepared, isn't it?"

Harry didn't reply, but Clara could see him roll his eyes as he walked past her accompanied by his friends and left the classroom. In a matter of minutes, the room had emptied completely, leaving only Clara, her papers and a blackboard full of notes. Not wanting to leave her scribbles for the next teacher to find the next morning, she picked up the eraser and started wiping away the chalk marks until the board was clean and looked as good as new. Once she was happy with the result, Clara walked back towards her desk and considered her options. Maybe she should have her students take the test tomorrow. It would certainly scare them into reading any future chapters more diligently. She picked up her pen and scribbled the word "test" into her planner, adding three question marks so she would remember to make up her mind before tomorrow.

Clara was so deep in thought about the possible test that she became aware of it too late, but the longer she focused on it, the more she could feel it: a presence lingering in the doorway, watching her. She spun around.

"Hello, Clara."

The moment she spotted Ciaran O'Neill, Clara jumped up from her seat and instantly backed away. She hadn't recognised him at the hardware shop because the police had never shared the details of the suspects in Danny's death with her, but now she wouldn't forget his face. Not ever. Now, Clara knew exactly who he was. Ciaran O'Neill was the man who had killed Danny.

Her boyfriend's murderer smirked at her as he entered the room slowly, every step he took deliberate and determined. O'Neill kept his eyes firmly on the ground until he was only a few metres away from her and Clara stepped back until she noticed the wall behind her that blocked her exit. Too late she realised that she had made a grave mistake and her heart began to pound in her chest when she realised that he had her cornered.

"You're very hard to get alone these days, always hanging around that detective," he said and finally looked up. Clara wished she could wipe that smirk off his face. One day, she would. "I've got to be honest, I wasn't sure at first whether it was Bonnie or you, but I guess that turned out well for me, didn't it? And for you."

Clara opened her mouth, but when she spoke, her voice didn't come out quite how she had expected it to. It was rough and hoarse, a croaking sound. "Why?"

Ciaran O'Neill shrugged, flashing a disgustingly bright smile at her. "Because Bonnie was stubborn. She made a mistake and she wouldn't take responsibility for it. People got hurt because of it, innocent people," he explained slowly and Clara could feel what was to come, but she wouldn't let it get to her. She spent too much time preparing for exactly this moment. "People like your boyfriend."

The heat rose to her cheeks and Clara swallowed as she tried to hold back the tears. Even after so much time, it still stung; it still hurt like a huge, gaping wound in her heart. She had to remind herself that she had come this far, that she could finish what she'd started. If she didn't, all those sacrifices, all those losses would have been for nothing. "You killed him," she replied with all the determination she could muster, but the response she got wasn't the one she had expected.

The man chuckled and stepped even closer. If Clara was quick, she could try to make a run for it, but if he caught her, she was doomed. She couldn't scream, she couldn't attract anyone's attention. She only had one chance.

"No, Bonnie killed him," Ciaran O'Neill said and by the tone of his voice, Clara could tell that he really believed that. "It was her betrayal that triggered the chain of events. Your boyfriend got caught up in it. That's what happens when people like Bonnie start messing with things they shouldn't be messing with."

O'Neill continued to approach her and Clara waited patiently, biding her time until the right moment presented itself, but she had to be smart. If he was too far away, he would race her to the door and catch her before she was even out of the room. If she let him get too close, he just had to reach out to stop her. There was only a small window of opportunity and Clara had to wait for it while she could feel her pulse in every limb as the adrenaline rushed through her veins. Not long and she would need it to give her strength. When O'Neill took another step, Clara knew that the moment had come. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with oxygen and she realised that she was shaking when she finally set her body in motion. Her legs were short, but she had always been a fast runner and she had the element of surprise on her side as she darted past him and made a run for the door. She had no idea what he was doing, no idea what was happening behind her because her only goal was the door and she kept her eyes on it at all times. Once she made it out, she would be safe. Just two more steps. Clara was already panting, running out of breath from the unexpected exercise and her legs were burning, but she couldn't give up. Not now, not ever. Just one more step.

Clara screamed. It was a scream of surprise, because she had vowed not to attract attention, but she needn't have worried at all. The sound that came out was nothing but a muffled moan as O'Neill covered her mouth with his hand. The other was wrapped so tightly around her waist as he pulled her back that for a moment, she thought she would never be able to breathe again and before she knew what was happening, her back hit the wall and O'Neill pressed her against the cold stone. She tried to take a breath, but the hand on her mouth was keeping her from doing so and her eyes grew wide as the panic surged through every cell of her body. She was going to die. He would kill her and he would never even be punished for Danny's death. She would never see John again. For some reason, the thought of that made her sad. When Clara was beginning to feel dizzy from the lack of oxygen, she pictured his face and a sense of tranquillity came over her, even though she would never be able to tell him what was really on her mind. She wished she had done so earlier.

Suddenly, the hand was gone and Clara gasped for breath, her lungs filling with air in an instant. She wasn't going to die, but Ciaran O'Neill still didn't let her go. He waited for her to catch her breath, to stop panting, to clear her head, but Clara could tell that he wasn't done with her just yet and even though the thought of what was to come made her afraid, she wouldn't let him see that. There was too much at stake.

"I'm not a monster," Ciaran O'Neill said, his tone quiet and oddly sincere. "I didn't want to kill your boyfriend. I'm sorry about that. And I don't want to hurt you. Just give me what I want and you'll never see me again."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clara replied sharply and raised her head so she looked him straight in the eyes. She prayed that he didn't see the fear in them.

A surge of pain ran through her back when Ciaran O'Neill shoved her against the wall once again and she had to refrain from crying out.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" he hissed.

"I don't!"

It happened too fast for Clara to really comprehend what was going on, but as he drew a knife from his pocket, she knew that she had lost. The blade was pressed against her throat before she had the chance to say another word and she could feel it pierce her skin. There was pain and the sensation of something warm running down her skin. He was going to kill her after all and the only consolation was that she would get what she wanted. Ciaran O'Neill would go to prison. John would make sure of that.

"You're a liar just like your sister."

Clara inhaled carefully. Every move she made would only push the blade deeper into her skin. "I didn't know my sister," she whispered, the despair audible in her voice.

To her surprise, the man chuckled. "You can fool the detective with that, but not me. Give me what I want and I'll be gone from your life. I can't bring your boyfriend back from the dead, but you can start over. I'm sure your pet detective would like that."

It wasn't fair. What he was offering, what he was threatening her with wasn't fair and she had never actually thought about it because she has been so preoccupied with Danny, but all of a sudden, Clara realised something about herself as she pictured it. Starting over with John was something she wouldn't mind at all.

"Give it to me and I'll let you go," Ciaran O'Neill promised.

Clara inhaled deeply even though the blade kept cutting her. "I don't know what you're talking about," she breathed. She closed her eyes and thought about John.