I walked out of Aunt Samantha's house slowly, the air heavy with grief and the scent of iron from the blood that still lingered on my clothes. My fingers trembled as they grazed the dried stain on my shirt—Maisie's blood. I couldn't feel anything anymore. Not the ache in my chest, not the heat against my skin. Just emptiness.
Bzzz... My communicator buzzed. I knew that name would pop up. The devil in silk gloves.
I answered. "If you think I'm in the mood to talk to my sister's murderer, then you're dumber than I thought."
A cruel chuckle followed. "Oh Harper," the mayor's daughter said smoothly. "Still burning with rage, I see. But don't worry—I didn't call to taunt you. I came in peace."
"Peace?" I spat. "All I want is to tear you limb by limb."
"Relax," she said, unfazed. "I called to end things. You want Sophie, don't you? I'm willing to return her."
My stomach clenched. Sophie.
"I'll find her myself," I snapped. "I don't need your twisted charity."
Her voice dropped, silky with venom. "Don't you want to fulfill your sister's last wish of finding Sophie? And if you don't take my offer, Harper, then Sophie will end up just like your sweet little Maisie. Bloody. Cold. Smiling in death."
Silence. My entire body was screaming at me to curse her out, to scream, to cry—but I didn't. I stood there, my fists clenched, biting my trembling lip.
"That's better," she said when I didn't reply. "Now. If you want your precious Sophie back, come to the same place where Maisie died. Alone. You will find Sophie there… but in return, you must receive one thousand lashes."
A thousand.
A thousand lashes.
The number echoed in my head like a curse.
She hung up.
I stared at my reflection in the darkened glass of a shop window across the street. My eyes looked hollow. My face was gaunt. But I was still breathing.
Chris, I called silently.
He appeared beside me, his form barely solid. He looked… worried.
"You're not really considering it… are you?"
"I already agreed," I said. "There's nothing to consider."
"You've lost too much blood from the last fight, Harper. Your body hasn't healed properly—"
"Chris," I interrupted, my voice low, "I'm done thinking. Done calculating. They took my sister. They might take Sophie. I won't let that happen."
Chris's expression flickered, but he didn't argue again. He just followed me home in silence.
---
The moment I opened the door, I was met with a slap across my face.
I stumbled backward, blinking at the sudden sting. I looked up. My mother stood there, eyes sunken, hair a mess, her lips trembling.
"You..." she whispered hoarsely. "You killed my baby."
My mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"You were supposed to protect her!" she screamed, coughing violently. Blood splattered the floor. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and glared at me. "You brought this chaos into our home. You and your stupid hero complex!"
I stared at her, my eyes wide with disbelief. "Mom... I didn't—"
"Don't talk back!" she screamed. "You think this world revolves around you? You think you're the only one grieving?! She was my daughter, Harper! My daughter!"
I wanted to fall on my knees and beg her. I wanted to explain that I was trying, that I'd done everything, that I never meant for this to happen.
But she didn't let me.
"I want you out of my house," she said coldly, pointing to the door. "Take your pain, your secrets, your drama—get out. I never want to see your face again."
My breath caught. "Mom... please..."
"Get. Out."
Behind her, I noticed her legs trembling. Her hand gripped the side of the couch for support. She coughed again, this time harder, and collapsed to her knees, choking on blood.
"Mom!" I screamed, rushing forward.
She slapped my hand away. "Don't touch me."
Chris appeared at my side, visible only to me. He hovered anxiously. Harper, she's getting worse.
I nodded, blinking back tears. My chest tightened as I backed away.
"I'll send someone to take care of you," I whispered. "You're sick. You need help."
But she didn't respond. She just turned her face away from me.
I picked up my bag from the floor and walked out the door. I didn't look back.
***********
Outside, the air was cold and sharp like glass. My feet felt heavy, but I kept walking. Every step away from that house felt like I was walking away from everything I had left.
Chris floated beside me silently.
"You think I made the wrong call?" I asked him.
Chris didn't respond at first. Then: You didn't. But... I'm scared for you.
"I'm scared too."
He looked at me, his voice softening. You know what scares me more? That you're not even scared of dying anymore. That's how broken you've become.
I couldn't reply to that.
We kept walking until the streetlights grew dim and the shadows thickened.
"One thousand lashes," I murmured, almost to myself. "Do you think I can survive that?"
Chris's voice cracked. I think... you might not. But you're going to try anyway, aren't you?
I nodded. "Because I have nothing else to lose."