Stupid Boy
Page 62
“Harper, Harper,” a voice crooned. Familiar, soft, husky. “Open your eyes.”
I noticed the hand that covered my shoulder. Felt the body heat that crouched beside me. When my eyes fluttered open, my breath lodged painfully in my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe. I gasped, gasped again, and tried to get up. Run. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe.
Kane was there, somehow, and he held me fast, pulled me against his chest. Was he a vision? Was I hallucinating? With his big hand pressing against the side of my head, he held me steady. He felt real. Had to be real. “Feel the rise and fall of my chest,” he said gently. “Feel my air moving in. Out. Feel my heart, Harper. Be like me.”
I listened. Focused.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “Breathe like me.”
Confusion warped my thoughts; made the inside of my head all buzzy and hazy. But I breathed. In. Out. Again. Until my lips weren’t so numb. Until my heart didn’t pound so hard. Kane’s piney scent wrapped around me, and I leaned away. Reality struck.
“How are you here?” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine. “I found you.”
He had. Old fears struck me. I couldn’t help it. “No one…knows.”
His hand reached out, grazed my cheek, my jaw. “Tell me, Harper. Tell me about the dream you just had.”
“I’m so sorry, Kane,” I said first, then fell against his chest. I slipped my arms around his waist. He was here. Really here, and I didn’t want to let him go. “I wanted to tell you about the Dare, end it right away, and I just…didn’t.” I looked at him. “I never meant to hurt you.”
His eyes softened. “I know that. And I’m sorry for not giving you the chance to tell me. I’m sorry for running off.”
I drank him in. His dark tousled hair. Alabaster skin, although there were a few fading bruises still remaining. And those profound, expressive eyes that spoke to me. “I still can’t stop staring at you,” I breathed.
He pulled me to him. “Then don’t ever stop,” he said against my temple.
Kane held me that way for some time. Tears fell; I hadn’t known they’d started back up. I wanted to squeeze him so tightly to me, but I didn’t dare because of his ribs.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Harper,” he whispered against my ear.
So I squeezed.
“This place,” he urged. “What’s going on, honey?” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What’d they do to you?”
With a resigned sigh that seemed to set free any inhibitions or reservations I had about telling another soul of my past, I told Kane everything I remembered.
Even the things I’d kept locked away from myself.
I listened. It wasn’t easy. Wasn’t easy at all. Her story lasted until morning.
Seemed like life tried to fuck us both over.
To hear Harper recall the painful memories of her childhood past was like watching a small child being punished for spilling a drink on white carpet. No matter what memory she recalled, she felt it was her fault. Her parents were both hooked on crack. Harper’s fault. Penniless and living in squalor. Harper’s fault. Had not only watched her parents be murdered by a disgruntled drug lord’s lackey but then stayed locked in the run-down apartment for days, with her dead parents inside, until the cops found her. Harper’s fault. Why? She’d let the lackey in. Had opened the door. At age eight, she’d shouldered the blame.
And her grandmother had allowed it. Had taken her in. Forced her to ignore her past, forget her parents. And then had tormented her. Threatened to lock her away in an institution. Convinced her spies watched her continuously, even at school, ready to report back any wrong-doings. Any sin. Jesus Christ, what sort of monster did that to a kid? When Harper had fallen asleep, I’d held her for a while, then decided to wander around. Upstairs, I found the dark room on the third floor. The one Corinne Belle had made Harper strip down and stay locked in. For consequences. Harper had taken an ax to it and ripped it to shreds. Good.
Harper was never beaten physically. She’d been beaten down all the same. Forced to pretend her past hadn’t happened. Forced to be something she wasn’t. All in the name of keeping the Belle family out of the black. Corinne Belle had terrified Harper, even after she’d grown up and moved off to college. Even after she’d had a stroke, unable to harm Harper. She still had managed it. Probably known it, too. She was no better than the loser bastard of a father I had. That crazy old woman had convinced Harper that she had something evil living inside of her. That to have relations with a guy was sinful. That she’d allowed me to even touch her once was a miracle. It’d take a long, long time to get past some of the stuff she told me.
I wanted to be the one she could lean on. To trust.
To love.
“Your back,” she said softy. “Why?”
Dark memories washed over me, but I’d beaten those demons years ago. When I’d almost killed my own father. “It was just my sadistic father’s way of controlling me,” I said. “Called me stupid. Every day. He knew I’d take it to keep Katy from getting beat.” I laughed harshly. “Hurt like hell, every single letter, but it was worth it. Katy was so frail. I always knew she’d never survive one of his thrashings if he got ahold of her.” I looked at Harper, and her eyes had softened, and her hand found mine. “I was wrong about that,” I said. Katy’s small twisted body flashed before me. The way it was then, that night so long ago. And again only a handful of days ago. “She’s still in there, my sister,” I continued. “I don’t care what any doctor says, or any of the nurses. She knows I’m there.” I nodded, gripping Harper’s hand. “I’ll always be there.”
I noticed the hand that covered my shoulder. Felt the body heat that crouched beside me. When my eyes fluttered open, my breath lodged painfully in my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe. I gasped, gasped again, and tried to get up. Run. I needed air. I couldn’t breathe.
Kane was there, somehow, and he held me fast, pulled me against his chest. Was he a vision? Was I hallucinating? With his big hand pressing against the side of my head, he held me steady. He felt real. Had to be real. “Feel the rise and fall of my chest,” he said gently. “Feel my air moving in. Out. Feel my heart, Harper. Be like me.”
I listened. Focused.
“Breathe, baby,” he whispered. “Breathe like me.”
Confusion warped my thoughts; made the inside of my head all buzzy and hazy. But I breathed. In. Out. Again. Until my lips weren’t so numb. Until my heart didn’t pound so hard. Kane’s piney scent wrapped around me, and I leaned away. Reality struck.
“How are you here?” I whispered.
His eyes searched mine. “I found you.”
He had. Old fears struck me. I couldn’t help it. “No one…knows.”
His hand reached out, grazed my cheek, my jaw. “Tell me, Harper. Tell me about the dream you just had.”
“I’m so sorry, Kane,” I said first, then fell against his chest. I slipped my arms around his waist. He was here. Really here, and I didn’t want to let him go. “I wanted to tell you about the Dare, end it right away, and I just…didn’t.” I looked at him. “I never meant to hurt you.”
His eyes softened. “I know that. And I’m sorry for not giving you the chance to tell me. I’m sorry for running off.”
I drank him in. His dark tousled hair. Alabaster skin, although there were a few fading bruises still remaining. And those profound, expressive eyes that spoke to me. “I still can’t stop staring at you,” I breathed.
He pulled me to him. “Then don’t ever stop,” he said against my temple.
Kane held me that way for some time. Tears fell; I hadn’t known they’d started back up. I wanted to squeeze him so tightly to me, but I didn’t dare because of his ribs.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Harper,” he whispered against my ear.
So I squeezed.
“This place,” he urged. “What’s going on, honey?” He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. “What’d they do to you?”
With a resigned sigh that seemed to set free any inhibitions or reservations I had about telling another soul of my past, I told Kane everything I remembered.
Even the things I’d kept locked away from myself.
I listened. It wasn’t easy. Wasn’t easy at all. Her story lasted until morning.
Seemed like life tried to fuck us both over.
To hear Harper recall the painful memories of her childhood past was like watching a small child being punished for spilling a drink on white carpet. No matter what memory she recalled, she felt it was her fault. Her parents were both hooked on crack. Harper’s fault. Penniless and living in squalor. Harper’s fault. Had not only watched her parents be murdered by a disgruntled drug lord’s lackey but then stayed locked in the run-down apartment for days, with her dead parents inside, until the cops found her. Harper’s fault. Why? She’d let the lackey in. Had opened the door. At age eight, she’d shouldered the blame.
And her grandmother had allowed it. Had taken her in. Forced her to ignore her past, forget her parents. And then had tormented her. Threatened to lock her away in an institution. Convinced her spies watched her continuously, even at school, ready to report back any wrong-doings. Any sin. Jesus Christ, what sort of monster did that to a kid? When Harper had fallen asleep, I’d held her for a while, then decided to wander around. Upstairs, I found the dark room on the third floor. The one Corinne Belle had made Harper strip down and stay locked in. For consequences. Harper had taken an ax to it and ripped it to shreds. Good.
Harper was never beaten physically. She’d been beaten down all the same. Forced to pretend her past hadn’t happened. Forced to be something she wasn’t. All in the name of keeping the Belle family out of the black. Corinne Belle had terrified Harper, even after she’d grown up and moved off to college. Even after she’d had a stroke, unable to harm Harper. She still had managed it. Probably known it, too. She was no better than the loser bastard of a father I had. That crazy old woman had convinced Harper that she had something evil living inside of her. That to have relations with a guy was sinful. That she’d allowed me to even touch her once was a miracle. It’d take a long, long time to get past some of the stuff she told me.
I wanted to be the one she could lean on. To trust.
To love.
“Your back,” she said softy. “Why?”
Dark memories washed over me, but I’d beaten those demons years ago. When I’d almost killed my own father. “It was just my sadistic father’s way of controlling me,” I said. “Called me stupid. Every day. He knew I’d take it to keep Katy from getting beat.” I laughed harshly. “Hurt like hell, every single letter, but it was worth it. Katy was so frail. I always knew she’d never survive one of his thrashings if he got ahold of her.” I looked at Harper, and her eyes had softened, and her hand found mine. “I was wrong about that,” I said. Katy’s small twisted body flashed before me. The way it was then, that night so long ago. And again only a handful of days ago. “She’s still in there, my sister,” I continued. “I don’t care what any doctor says, or any of the nurses. She knows I’m there.” I nodded, gripping Harper’s hand. “I’ll always be there.”
