Chapter 88 HARPER
The familiar pink walls of my childhood bedroom surrounded me, brighter than I remembered, almost glowing in the afternoon light. The air carried the comforting warmth of my mom’s cooking drifting up from the kitchen downstairs—onions sizzling, something sweet baking in the oven. Dad was at work, like always. That meant it was just me and Sam, alone in my room, the house quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant clink of pots.
Back then, it didn’t feel strange. Not the way things felt strange now, looking back. I was comfortable. Excited, even. My cousin was spending the entire holiday with us, and that felt like the best kind of miracle to a nine-year-old who didn’t have siblings and rarely had friends over.
“I’m getting bored of playing tea parties, Harper,” Sam sighed, leaning back in the plastic chair beside my bed—the pink one that was actually mine, a birthday gift I’d gotten earlier that year.
“Oh.” I tried to keep my voice bright, even though something in my chest dipped. I didn’t want him to get bored of me. Sam was three years older, cooler, smarter in ways I admired. As an only child, he was my favorite person to play with, and I didn’t want to lose him just because I liked girly games. “We can play something you want today,” I offered quickly, already gathering up my teacups and dolls.
He tapped his chin, pretending to think. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind playing adult games?”
I paused, looking up at him. “Adult games? But we’re still kids.”
“Yeah,” he said easily, waving it off, “but it’s just make-believe. Like pretending what kind of adults we’ll be when we grow up. Me and my friends play it all the time. Trust me, it’s fun.”
Something about his tone made my stomach tighten, just a little. It was the first time I could remember feeling uncertain around him. But the idea itself didn’t sound bad. I’d always wanted to know what it felt like to be grown up, to be taken seriously.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Do we get to make up our characters and everything?”
“Sure,” Sam replied, smiling in a way that made him look older than twelve. The girls on the block always whispered about how charming he was. To me, he was just Sam—my cousin. Mom said it was normal not to see him the way others did because we were related.
“Yay.” I jumped up, hurrying to my closet and pulling out clothes, fully committing. “I want to be a doctor. Like Mom.”
He snorted. “Or you could be a hot nurse.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Ew. No. People think hot nurses are… bad.”
He stepped closer, taking the clothes from my hands. “What’s wrong with that?” he said lightly. “Harper, you’re nine. You’re smart. You’re already more developed than most kids your age. You have to start acting grown if you want friends.”
I didn’t like how close he was, but the word friends rooted me in place.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “I’ll play the nurse.”
“Good girl.” He smiled in a way that made my skin prickle.
The room suddenly felt smaller. The age gap between us stretched wider than it ever had before, and I didn’t know why I felt uncomfortable. I was just a kid. What did I know?
“Do you know what’s important for a nurse?” he asked.
“What?” My voice came out softer than I meant it to.
He stepped closer, close enough that my back brushed the closet door. “Practice. So you don’t embarrass yourself later.”
“Are you sure Mom won’t—”
“Adults don’t tell,” he interrupted, his voice harder now.
He didn’t sound like the cousin I knew.
“O-okay,” I whispered. “But if I don’t like it, we stop.”
“That’s fine.” His hand rested at my waist, unfamiliar and wrong. My body went still, caught between confusion and fear. “I’ll lead. You follow.”
I nodded because I didn’t know how to say no yet.
His breath brushed my face as he leaned in closer, and then suddenly our lips were touching. I jumped at first, about to pull away, but his hand reached up, pinning my face in place. Our tongues collided, teeth clashing. It was more of a sloppy exchange of spit than the type of kiss I’d seen dad give mom a couple of times. I couldn’t grasp how adults enjoyed this.
“Relax, couz,” Sam said softly. “I’m trying to teach you, not hurt you.”
“I don’t know, Sam. It feels… weird.”
“I know what you’d enjoy most. Annie seemed to find it exciting when Luke tried it on her.”
I had no idea who those people were, but my curiosity was piqued. Anything felt better than the kiss that had just happened. Waiting expectantly for him to suggest another game and show me the surprise, I wasn’t expecting his hands to shift into my pants.
“Sam?”
“Hold still,” he hissed against me.
I didn’t know much about sex then, but I knew only adults were allowed to touch each other. I pushed him, stumbling back, my heart pounding so loud I thought it might burst. I ran for my bed, hands shaking, tears burning my eyes. He followed.
My gaze landed on the scissors I’d left there earlier. I didn’t think. I just acted.
His scream filled the room as blood spilled from the cut I slashed across his face.
By the time mom burst through the door, everything had already changed. I knew, even then, that I would never feel safe around Sam again—no matter what.
The familiar sound of my ringtone cut through the cluster of headaches pounding behind my eyes, my vision still blurred from the blow I’d taken to the head. I blinked several times, trying to make sense of my surroundings, taking in the walls that had morphed from childhood pink to a dull off-white.
My phone rested in my pocket, and for a brief, fragile moment, relief flickered through me. That relief vanished the instant I tried to reach for it. My hands would not move. I realized then that I was restrained.
One cuff was secured to the leg of my ruined coffee table, which Sam had somehow managed to prop upright again, while the other was fastened to the leg of my couch. The cold metal bit into my wrists, sending an icy chill through my skin as panic slowly crawled up my spine.
“Why don’t I get that?” Sam said lightly.
He reached into my pocket, his fingers brushing against my hip. The touch sent a shiver through me, sharp and unwelcome, stirring memories I’d spent years trying to bury.
“Oh,” he continued, pulling the phone free and glancing at the screen, “look who’s calling. That Westfield scum.” His lips curved into a smile that made my stomach drop. “Are you going to tell him to get lost, or should I do it for you?”
“Don’t you dare—”
He tapped my phone, ending the call without hesitation.
Crouching beside me again, Sam grabbed my wrist and pressed my thumb against the screen, forcing my phone to unlock with my fingerprint. I struggled weakly, my pulse roaring in my ears, but he was already typing.
“Sam,” I whispered, my voice trembling now, stripped of any strength. “P-please.”
“Mark, was it?” He chuckled, eyes flicking over the screen. “Why don’t we start with him as an example?”
A familiar alert tone chimed. My heart sank as the message sent.
Regret burned fresh and raw in my chest, but the only place my mind could land was on my mom. She’d said he’d changed. Of course she believed that—she’d never seen what happened eight years ago as anything serious. Just a kid with bad influences. Just a mistake.
The soft jingle of metal snapped me out of my thoughts, my eyes darting to the belt in his hand.
“Now that you’re awake,” Sam said calmly, almost pleasantly, “shall I give you a reminder before I make an example of your boyfriend?”
“Sa—” I tried to speak, but the word died in my throat as the belt came down hard against my stomach, the sound dull and violent.
Pain exploded through me, my body flaring with heat like the air had been knocked from my lungs.
All the rage. All the fury. Every mistake that had led me here flashed behind my eyes at once.
I screamed.