<h4>Chapter 415: 415-Fear Of Clowns Yet He Fought Them For Me</h4>


    <strong>Clementine:</strong>


    I knew I had to hug her. However, she lunged at me. I did not have a chance to do what I nned.


    She pushed me down, and before I could react, my back hit the cold floor.


    The next thing I knew, her knees pressed against my ribs and her hands reached for my neck.


    The moment her fingers touched my skin, my body shuddered. Her nails dug in, and warmth spread inside me.


    I tried to breathe through her tight grasp, but it was hard.


    "Clementine!" Ian yelled, and then I heard him growl.


    I turned my head to the side and watched him look at me. He had made eye contact with the clowns, and I hated it.


    He wanted them toe after him because some of them had started to scratch my legs while my mother sat on top of me, her hands wrapped around my neck.


    Ian roared again and pulled one clown back, then another. He forced them away from me.


    He kicked and wed a few, throwing them against the walls and letting his wolf control the situation.


    I tried to lift my hands, but I was shaking miserably.


    Tears ran down my temples and slid into my hair. The pressure around my throat was so strong that my insides started to burn.


    My chest felt heavy. I let out a cough, but it was so weak that I wondered if that was it. I forced a calm smile on my face.


    "I know you do not want to kill me," I forced out, my voice cracked and barely audible.


    "But I want to tell you something. The confession I wanted to make years ago, I probably had too. But I want to remind you once again. You are the best mother," I uttered, my voice breaking.


    "You protected me and my brother. Remember little Joy?" I coughed again, and spit gathered at the corner of my mouth.


    Her fingers only tightened around my neck, making me feel like the oxygen was getting knocked out of me.


    "Remember you took the beatings from my father for us? I did not forget." My voice shook. "It is okay," I whispered again, and this time I could barely get the words out.


    "If you kill me, it will be a kind way if you do not feel guilty for it, Mother. I would die by the hands of someone I love." My tears ran faster, and my lungs ached.


    I began to heave. My fingers scratched at her hand without meaning to.


    "I am ready, Mother. I only want your peace. I just wish that little Joy is waiting for us. We will reunite with him soon." I coughed and almost gagged.


    My eyes started to roll back. However, I noticed her fingers loosen. I began to take short breaths while I fixed my eyes on hers.


    The wide smile on her lips started to change. Her fingers no longer pushed into my throat. Her hand stopped.


    "Mother." As soon as I said it, the weight on my chest eased, and she pulled back.


    I gasped for air and rolled to my side, coughing. My neck pulsed with pain.


    I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked at her.


    She stood there. Her expression had changed. There was a small shift in her eyes, like emotions were starting to build in her.


    The wild re she gave me was gone. Now she looked tired, as if she had been drugged.


    I rose to my feet and wrapped my arms around her. She no longer scratched me, but she did not hug me back.


    My cheek pressed against her chest, and tears soaked into her shirt. She did not move.


    Her hands stayed at her sides. Her face was still, like she was listening to me.


    "I love you, Mother. I love you so much. I have missed you. Do not worry, I will find what happened to little Joy. I will bring him peace too." I started to say the words almost immediately, as if time was running out.


    I no longer felt like I could rely on her support. My feet kept my bnce.


    Even though I knew what was happening, I kept my arms around her.


    The force was slipping. She was fading. My arms and fingers felt less of her.


    My skin touched something soft that turned light, then air, then nothing.


    Her body began to break apart in slow pieces, and her color faded.


    "No," I whispered.


    My arms closed around nothing. I did not let go, even when she was gone.


    I closed my eyes because I did not want to look around the empty theater.


    Everyone was gone. The smiles and the res were gone. There was nothing left. I did not want to feel it.


    The theater was quiet. No growls. No footsteps. No whispering.


    I kept my hands lifted in front of me, hugging the empty space where she had been while I cried against the silence.


    "And now you are gone," I cried, feeling a cold rush up my nose, still not opening my eyes.


    Then I felt someone touch my hands, open them, and fill the empty space my mother left.


    I hugged Ian tightly and sniffled against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and gently ran his hand through my hair.


    "It is okay. Her daughter saved her," he told me, kissing my head.


    "I just wanted her to say one word to me. I wanted her to hug me back and not hurt me," I started to cry because I realized that would never happen again.


    Even though I put her to rest, I was not at ease. The empty hole she left behind would never be filled, and I knew that.


    "Since we are speaking about truths and feelings. I want to confess something too. I am scared of clowns. There is something, some phobia," Ian whispered while he held me tight as I continued to cry nonstop.


    "Coulrophobia," I whispered while still hugging him. I began tough and cry against his chest, and I heard himugh too as he tried to cheer me up.