The cops told us that Harper needed to come to the station to give a written statement. Charlie and Cherry agreed to meet us there while everyone else agreed to go to Charlie’s and wait. It was in this unfortunate moment that I realized that these people were my family. They truly loved me and wanted to be there for me, to support me.

Harper and I climbed into the back of a police car and silently watched the harrowing scene around us. There’s something the lights on emergency vehicles do that make an already anxiety filled moment that much worse. As we drove to the station, the radio buzzed with static and updates on calls.

We walked up the steps to the station, Cherry and Charlie quiet citadels behind us. The station was busy despite the late hour. Phones ringing, loud booted feet stomping the linoleum floor. We sat in benches, waiting to be taken to another room. The double doors to the station opened in a rush, the wind swirling our hair as they brought a cuffed man in.

A cuffed John Bell.

He recognized us immediately.

“I told you I’d find you one day!” He screamed at Harper, struggling to get away from the officers’ grips. Instinctively, I hovered my body over hers. “You think to run from me?! I’m gonna’ to get out of here and when I do, I’m coming after you! Just wait, Harper! Just. Wait!” One of the officers yelled for him to shut up as the other violently tugged him into a nearby hall through a door labeled ‘Processing’. “I’m coming for you, Harper!” His voice echoed down the hall. “You’re mine! Never forget that!”

Cherry and I covered Harper as her body began to wrack with sobs. An officer from earlier that night named Torres signaled for me to bring Harper into a nearby office. I sat her down and pulled up a chair myself.

“I’m sorry, son, but you have your own statement to write,” Officer Torres said. He grabbed an official looking blank document and sat it in front of Harper with a pen. Another female officer sat in a desk opposite her as Officer Torres lead me out and into an adjacent office.

“I’ll be right next door, Harper. I’m not leaving you,” I said, as she reached for my hand. She nodded.

When both statements were written, we were asked to stay in touch since we didn’t have a contact number in case they needed Harper or even my testimony at the trial, if it went that far.

“What will he be charged with?” Harper asked the detective who took the statements.

“We’re not sure. Most likely vehicular manslaughter but considering the circumstances around the death,” He said, making Harper wince, “he may get second or third degree murder. We’ll let you know. Like I said, stay in touch.”

“Can he make bail?” I asked, worried about Harper more than anything.

“He can. Unless the judge decides he’s a flight risk.”

Harper began to shake beside me.

“It’s okay, Harper,” I said, rubbing the goosebumps that formed on her arms.

“He’s going to find me,” she said to no one.

“No, he won’t,” I said, we’re not listed anywhere. We don’t live anywhere,” I humorlessly laughed. “Please, stop worrying.”

“And the judge may consider his threat to you,” the detective chimed in. “There is a chance he won’t be given bail. Also, depending on the charge, his bail will be set fairly high. You’ll just have to wait and see but you can’t worry about things that haven’t even happened yet. Go home, or wherever it is you go and get some rest. Call us tomorrow afternoon. We should have some answers by then.”

“Thank you,” I said, leading Harper toward the double doors of the station.

Cherry and Charlie stood on either side of us again but Cherry held Harper’s other arm as we descended the steps. Charlie hailed a taxi van and we all climbed in.

Charlie’s apartment was bursting at the seams when we walked in. A few had fallen asleep but most had stayed awake, the worry that lined the room was tangible.

“What’d they say?” Aaron asked, folding his arms.

“They took our statements,” I answered him while setting Harper on a bit of couch that wasn’t taken up by sleeping friends. “They aren’t sure what charges will be given but they said we can call up their tomorrow to get a few more concrete answers.”

“And who was that guy?” Nat asked. “Do you know him, Harper?”

“Yes,” she said. “I used to live with him three foster homes ago. I thought he had been my friend until his insaneness started making an appearance. He’s a psychopath.” Harper looked up at me. “If only I had told someone about all that he’d done, that woman could be alive right now.”

Everyone started to protest but I cut them short. “No, Harper. I told you, you can’t blame yourself. You can’t be responsible for his actions. Stop blaming yourself. Seriously.”

“I can’t help it,” she said quietly. “I keep seeing her dead eyes staring up at me.”

Those who were awake rushed over to her and soothed her with words and hands. I could visibly tell that her heart had lightened at their proximity. It was like they were absorbing her pain through touch. I loved them for this. They loved her for me. They loved her because she was amazing.

Chapter Nine

For The Longest Time

Callum

Harper and I didn’t sleep a wink that night but finally succumbed around five o’clock in the afternoon the following Sunday, which worked out nicely as we had an eight o’clock appointment with my advisor, Sylvia, Monday morning. Both of us woke at five in the morning, silently getting ready in Charlie’s apartment. Everyone had left sometime after we’d fallen asleep. When I woke, I found a note from Charlie saying he was going to sleep at the studio so we could get some rest. He was so generous to me. Also, we hadn’t thought about it before but were awfully grateful that Cherry had our bags brought from her flat to Charlie’s.

“Are you ready?” I asked Harper.

“Yes,” was her simple answer.

We locked the door behind us and rode the subway toward campus.

A minute into our ride, Harper asked me, “What about your bike?”

“Who cares about the bike, Harper. I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.”

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she whispered.

“Absolutely not. You have nothing to make up for, Harper. You owe me nothing. Shit happens, babe.”

She smiled slightly. “You’re incredible, Callum.”

“I’m really not. If I was, I never would have left you alone in the first place.”

“I’m not an invalid,” the old, sassy Harper said.

“Oh, got your tongue back, have you?” She smiled wider. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

“I can’t believe the past few weeks,” she said, shaking her head.

“I know. You, kicked from your home, us, working all those weeks just to have our money stolen.” Harper shook her head. “That’s not your fault either! Then, that psycho comes after you and kills that innocent girl.”

“That poor woman,” Harper said, shaking her head.

“Her name was Erica,” I said.

“I know, the detective told me.”

“Her husband,” I said, shuddering. “I don’t know what I’d do if...I mean, I just don’t know what I’d do.”

Harper grabbed my hand and squeezed hard.

At our stop, we got off the train and headed into the bright morning sun to Sylvia’s office. The same punk chick from two weeks before stood up and waved energetically, like we were old friends and she hadn’t seen us in a while. Harper waved back politely and she gestured for both of us to sit as she did the time before.

“Can I get you a water or anything?” She asked.

“I’ll take a bottle,” Harper said, surprising me.

The girl’s eyes lit up and she bounded down the hall toward a kitchenette. When she came back she handed Harper a cold bottle of water and a napkin.

“Sylvia’s ready for you now,” she said, smiling sweetly.

Sylvia’s office looked so much different to me now. It was like the past couple of weeks drained a little bit of color out of the way I looked at life. So much had happened and there was no way I thought I could ever get back that little piece of my innocence.

“Callum! Harper!” Sylvia beamed, completely unaware of the events that had transpired since we’d last left her office.

“Sylvia,” we both said. Sylvia came around her desk and hugged us both tightly.

“It looked like you both needed hugs,” she teased.

We smiled at her thoughtfulness.

“Okay,” she said. “Good news! Harper, I’ve pulled a few strings. You’ve officially gotten a full ride here.” Harper and I perked up at that bit of news. “Don’t ask me how I did it,” she joked. “A magician never reveals her tricks.” Harper and I hugged fiercely and tears appeared in Harper’s eyes once more.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” Harper confessed. “I knew if I got my hopes up that I’d just end up disappointed. Thank you, Sylvia. You have no idea what this means to me.” She sucked in a breath to gain some composure. “Thank you so much.”

Sylvia grabbed a few tissues from behind her and handed them to Harper. “Please, it was my absolute pleasure. Plus, it’s my job to help out students Harper and you are officially a student here. Now, you’re going to have to make an appointment with a counselor to figure out what classes you need to take. I found a grant to help pay for your books and supplies. You should be good to go, doll.”

Harper looked at me through grateful tears and nodded repeatedly as if in disbelief. ‘Thank you’ she mouthed.

“Stop,” I said, “you’re making me feel all gushy inside. I don’t do well with emotion.”

She laughed and grabbed my hand. We just stared at one another deeply.

“Okay, love birds,” she said making Harper and I smile wider. “I’ll need Harper to fill out some paperwork. The same, ironically, you filled out last time, Callum.”

She removed a stack of papers from her desk and slid them across the desk toward Harper and handing her a pen. Harper eagerly filled them out, making my heart swell with pride for her.

I leaned back in my chair, a small weight lifted from my chest. Now all we need is a place to live, I thought. I sat up. I had an idea.

“Sylvia,” I began, “is there any way to get a grant to live on?”

Sylvia smiled kindly. “Well, it’s too late to apply for housing, Callum. I’m sorry. Why? Do you not have a place to live?”

“No, well, we ran into a bit of bad luck,” I said and noticed Harper’s pen stop moving for a moment. “It’s not a big deal but we basically have nowhere to live.”

“Callum, I’m really sorry to hear that,” she said sincerely, “but I have nothing to offer you. Housing applications were due at the beginning of summer. It takes several weeks to process them and are only done annually.” Harper handed Sylvia her paperwork and she took it, turning her chair and standing before walking over to her filing cabinet. “Unless, you were married,” she joked. “Then I could put in an emergency application but...” Sylvia said, turning around with the largest smile on her face, “but you aren’t, so.”