"Shut up, all of you! Get out!"
Emmett, seemingly in a frenzy, grabbed a bottle of Merlot from the rack, and started guzzling it down.
He hated himself for not drinking enough earlier, for keeping a shred of sanity.
He couldn't understand what made him any less than Elio? How could he possibly lose to him?
...
Clara, in a state of disarray, bolted out of Emmett's room and hurried back to her own quarters. As she burst through the door, her friend Rose was taken aback. Her clothes were torn, her hair a wild mess.
"What the... What happened to you? Did you run into a wall again?"
"No..." Clara didn't feel like talking. She marched straight to her bed, dove under the covers, sealing herself off. She clenched her fists, her tears streaming down her face.
She didn't want anyone to see her crying and didn't want anyone's pity.
"What's going on with you?" Rose, worried, prodded her a bit, "Don't hide under the covers, or you'll suffocate; you could faint!"
"I don't need your concern. I'm fine; I'll be fine in a bit."
Hearing Clara's voice, Rose reached out to pull back her covers, "You're crying. I can hear it. Can't you just talk to me about it? I promise, I won't tell a soul, not the butler, not anyone. Not a word!"

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