“Anyway, the next day, John introduced me to the kids at my new school and others in the neighborhood. I was really starting to believe he would be cool and that this family could be one I could stick it out with, at least for a little while.

“I couldn’t have been more wrong,” I said solemnly.

“What happened?”

“Well, that night, while I was sleeping, I heard the wood creak below someone's feet just outside my door. I sat up, turned on the lamp and looked at the time. It was just after two in the morning. I called out but heard nothing else. I just assumed it was John going to the restroom so I fell back to sleep.

“The next night, at the same time, the same thing happened but this time I stayed quiet and kept the light off. That’s when I panicked a little.” I grabbed Callum’s hand and held it tightly at the memory. “My bedroom door opened a crack and I sat up quickly but no one came in. It was an old house and I figured it just fell open. I scolded myself for being so paranoid. I chocked it up as an overreaction to a new home.

“Two weeks later, I became pretty comfortable again, not experiencing anything weird at night again. John and I had also become pretty good friends but one school night, I woke up to him sitting beside me on the bed.” Callum squeezed my hand. “I asked him if he was okay and if he needed anything but he just sat and stared at me. I sat up and scooted as closely to the headboard as possible but John lunged himself at me. I opened my mouth to scream but his big, meaty hand stifled it. ‘Don’t speak’, he told me. I shook my head in agreement, hoping I was misreading what was going on. He kept his hand over my mouth though and I knew I should most definitely be concerned. ‘Harper,’ he said, ‘I want you to sleep with me.’ I shook my head hard but he just clamped his hand tighter across my mouth. ‘Not to have sex with me but to sleep next to me,’ he said. He laid his body next to mine and drug me into him. I’d never felt so frightened in my life. John was so much larger than me, I couldn’t fight him. He cruelly dug his nails into my arms to keep me in my place. He whispered in my ear that if I left or told anyone what he was doing that he would kill me. I just nodded and endured the night next to his sweaty, awful body. I eventually fell asleep and woke to no one there. I didn’t know if I’d dreamed it or not but when I stood up and noticed his nail marks in my arm, I knew.

“That morning, I showered, trying to wash him off of me, then dressed. The foster family I was staying with made it very clear I couldn’t be late for breakfast. So, I nervously trudged down the stairs and entered the dining room. Everyone was sat there, including John. The foster mother scolded me for being late and I apologized. John sat directly across from me and smiled. He said, ‘Good morning, Harper. How’d you sleep?’ I almost spit up the orange juice I’d nervously downed. I told him I’d slept terribly. He said that he thought that a shame. I couldn’t bear to look at him the rest of the morning. I avoided him at school but at the end of the day, he forced me to walk with him home.”

“My God, Harper. Please tell me you got out of that house.”

“I tried, Callum,” I said, a single tear falling down my cheek. “I tried so very hard. I went to my social worker but I stupidly didn’t tell them what John was doing to me and they told me there was no need to change my home, that I needed to adapt.

“It was all about power and possession for John. He would force me to do strange things like sleep on the floor while he slept in my bed, or tie his shoes for him, or clean his laundry. Once, he made me go to a dance with him but forced me to sit in a corner. He told me if I moved that he’d kill me. He always threatened death.

“Finally, after a few weeks, it dawned on me that I’d forgotten who I was. I’d forgotten that I was friggin’ Harper Bailey and that I didn’t take shit from anyone.

“I knew I couldn’t get out of that foster home without some sort of proof of his craziness so I figured out the perfect way to get him. John couldn’t stand being out of control so I started locking my door at night. At first, he ignored it, deciding to take my decision out on me later but I endured it all and kept on locking my door. He’d knock softly and ask me nicely to open up but I refused. He’d threaten me the next morning but I’d ignore him, patiently waiting for him to lose control. Finally, after the sixth night, John couldn’t take it anymore and began to beat at the door violently, waking our foster parents. They wanted to know what he was doing and John, not being a very bright guy, told them I’d taken a cd from his room without asking. I told them that I did nothing of the sort and that the cd he was referring to was actually in his stereo as we spoke. They confirmed it was true and I was given my out.”

“Harper, that is awful.”

“I know,” I said laughing, trying to avoid the sob threatening to leak from my throat.

Callum, sensing how tense I was, hugged me closer.

“Where did you go after that, Harper?” He asked.

“An alcoholic’s but, to be honest, it felt like a reprieve. They were winos, their floor was littered with corks. I lived in a literal sea of corks but I didn’t mind it so much. They were cool as long as you left them alone and whatever trouble you got into didn’t directly affect them.

“I stayed there for at least a year, but social services paid a surprise visit to them and they hadn’t cleaned up yet. So...” I shrugged as if that was explanation enough.

“And you were forced out?”

“Yup.”

“Then where’d you go?”

“To the last foster home I’d ever have to endure again,” I said.

“Was it as awful?”

“Depends on your definition of awful,” I offered. “Was it as bad as John Bell? No. As laid back as the winos? Nope. It was somewhere in between. They weren’t physically abusive or anything but they would scream at one another every night over money and I was sort of endured because I provided a steady stream of the very cash from the state they’d yell about.”

“And when you turned eighteen?”

“See you later, alligator.”

Callum

I had it pretty bad growing up but Harper seems to have endured every awful situation a person could conjure up, short of rape and even that I think she narrowly escaped. I wanted only to wrap her in my arms and tell her that everything would be okay but that would have been a lie. I didn’t know if everything was going to be okay. I did know, however, that whatever we did go through that we were going to sustain it together, that I was quite certain of.

“And then you met me,” I said.

“And then I met you,” she said, smiling softly.

“And all was right with the world,” I joked.

“Exactly,” she said seriously.

“I was only joking Harper,” I said, sitting up a little to get a better view of her face.

“Of-of course,” she giggled, fidgeting next to me. “I know that.”

I studied her closely before turning off the lamp next to me. The moonlight fell across her gold strands, looking for all the world like copper threads. I half expected them to sing in clinking charms every time her head moved. I hugged her closely to me, hoping to squeeze the bad memories from her life. I’d absorb them from her, if I could. Just take them and endure the obvious ache they caused her.

“When my folks died,” I confessed, “I remembered feeling sadness, an overwhelming sadness, but I was too young to realize what it meant. I have memories of visiting a cold, unwelcoming room where they would force me to draw pictures of how I supposedly felt. They’d ask me if I remembered my mom and dad, and even then I thought they were stupid for asking such an obvious question.

“I wondered why I left my home, wondered when my mom and dad would come and pick me up. I would often tell my foster mother that I was ready to call my parents to have them pick me up but she would just smile and settle me on her hip, never really giving me the answer I was looking for.”

Harper thread her fingers with mine, burrowing her shoulder deeper into mine.

“When I was slightly older and had almost completely forgotten about my parents,” I continued, “I began school and quickly noticed that my life was very different from my classmates. Many of them would talk about their families and I just couldn’t help but fear that I didn’t share their fates.

“I went home my first day of first grade and asked my foster mom if she was mine. She gave me a round-a-bout answer and that’s the day I knew I was different. That was the day I knew I belonged to no one and steeled myself for a difficult life. I don’t know how I knew, but at six, I had already figured it out.

“I was a pretty good kid, school became my life because I had nothing else. I made it my life’s goal to be worth something to myself as I was the only one interested enough to care. I, too, was thrown from family to family for one reason or another. I tumbled about New York City never really forming friendships for fear they’d just disappoint me further than I already was. I was afraid that a loss like that would be the bitter pill that would kill the little spirit I had left.

“I trusted no one, until the age of fourteen, when a boy introduced himself to me as Alan Moss. He was cool and non-judgemental. I started hanging with him a lot.

“By the time we were fifteen, Alan and I had become best friends. I didn’t allow myself to get very close to the guy, like I said, I never allowed that void to be filled until Charlie and Cherry but, I admit, Alan was a really good friend and I was as loyal to him as I possibly could be.

“By our sophomore year though, Alan became distant. We hadn’t talked for weeks but out of the blue he called me and invites me to this party, letting me know that Keiko was going to be there. This was after our kiss in eighth grade, of course, but I still liked the hell out of her. So, I told him I’d be there. I met up with him that night but the party was not what I thought it was. People laid about like idiots, laughing at the most ridiculous things and I knew they were high as kites.

“Alan came bounding up to me, acting so different. He teased me incessantly until I agreed to try the small purple pill he held out to me in a tiny plastic bag.” I sighed audibly. “I stupidly swallowed the pill.

“After that, Alan and I got high every weekend for two months. We both became addicted but I believe Alan was even more so than I. The first week we decided to ditch class to get high, I knew I needed to stop and I did. Cold turkey. And it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be but Alan...Alan couldn’t do it. He started ignoring me once again, ditching class, then school altogether.

“Several weeks later, I got a frantic call from him. He’d been to his dealer’s house to get more stuff but ran out of money and the guy was essentially holding him hostage for the rest of his money. Alan begged me to bring him some cash. I agreed but on the condition that he agreed to seek help, immediately.

“When I showed up, they’d already beat the living hell out of the guy. I refused to hand the dealer the cash personally and made Alan come get it from me. When he returned from paying his dealer off, I practically had to drag him home. Alan refused to go in and I knew that if I didn’t stay with him that the guy was going to kill himself. I brought him to my foster parents and snuck him into my room, stupidly thinking he hadn’t taken any drugs at the dealer’s house, that he needed the money so desperately to pay off old debts.