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And I’m stuck having to pretend I don’t know about the monster that hides behind it.

As if it never happened.

Chapter 4

Harper

Growing up, my siblings and I had to share my dad’s extra truck if we wanted to drive anywhere. It was old and rusty with the paint peeling off, and it made this god awful grinding noise whenever the gear shifted. My sister would constantly gripe about the truck, but my brother and I both loved it because it had character, history, a story. My brother usually drove it, but that stopped when he graduated. I was going into my sophomore year at the time. We’re all pretty close in age, my sister being just a little over a year older than me, and my brother is a year and a half older than her. But I was always closer with my brother. I had a harder time connecting with my sister. While she was older, she was the less responsible of the three of us, a little wilder and more carefree. My father, who worked a lot and struggled a lot with depression, had a hard time making sure everything was taken care of at the house, so I stepped up, cleaned, and often cooked. And my older brother started working when he was fifteen and helped contribute to the family financially. He spent a lot of time keeping an eye on me and my sister too, trying to keep us out of trouble, and made sure we did our homework. He let me hang out with him a lot, and we spent a lot of time doing outdoor stuff, like hiking, running, and sometimes we’d play catch or flag football with his friends. He was a good brother and when he made it to the NFL, he continued—and still does—to be that way. He’s constantly checking in on me and I sometimes go to his place on weekends. He bought me things too—too many things—like my tuition, nice running clothes and shoes, and this car I’m driving, he bought for me as well.

I protest relentlessly every time he tries to buy me things, but he always gives me this speech about how he feels like shit if he doesn’t get to take care of me. I’m aware part of the reason he does it is because he feels guilty over what happened that night. He feels guilty because he wasn’t there. That night, he was home from college for summer break, but he had been on a date instead of at the party. It’s not his fault he wasn’t there. And honestly, I didn’t really want to be there either. But I went anyway, and everything is broken now. He feels guilty, my sister is a wreck, and me? Well, I’m still trying to figure out where I’m at.

About twenty minutes after getting off the phone with my sister, I’m arriving at her house. She lives in a relatively nice area mostly due to the fact that Liam’s father owns a series of restaurants in town that generate a lot of revenue. His family is well off, and in high school, he drove this brand new mustang and liked to show off, just like with everything else he owned. He was on the football team, but he wasn’t very good. He made excuses about it being the coach’s fault, not his.

“He’s so unfair,” he griped one day while he, Zoe, and I were sitting on the bleachers during lunch. “He only lets guys play who he’s friends with their dads.”

I knew the coach and was aware this wasn’t true. But arguing with him was impossible. Although, I did try on occasion.

“Then why does Ellis get to play?” I replied to his comment. Typically I didn’t eat lunch with them, but my other friends had decided to ditch today and I couldn’t due to a big test I had in English. “The coach doesn’t even know him.”

Liam glared at me. “You’re such a brat, Harper. And you’re always busting guys’ balls.” He stood up on the bleachers we were lounging on. “One day you’re going to realize no guy is ever going to want you because of that.” He stormed off, stomping across the benches and heading toward the exit.

Zoe started to chase after him, but I snagged the sleeve of her shirt. “Let him go have his tantrum by himself.”

She stared at where Liam had taken off and then she looked at me. “I… I can’t.” She wiggled her grip from mine and rushed after him.

Back then, I believed she had done this sort of stuff because she had been in love with a douchebag. I was too young to see their relationship for what it was. Abusive. Controlling. Manipulative.

I see it now, though. It’s all I see when I think too much about it.

Liam is a spoiled, rich, douchebag who controls almost every aspect of my sister’s life.

When he graduated, his dad gave him one of the restaurants, and bought him and Zoe this two-story house located in one of the nicest subdivisions in town. It would’ve been a nice gesture had they’re relationship not been so toxic. Plus, they only got married because Zoe got pregnant. I knew my sister wasn’t ready to get married. She could barely take care of herself and she had dreams of leaving town, going to some big city, like LA or New York and attending art school to become a designer. That never happened, though, Instead she got married, has two kids, and a house to take care of along with a piece of shit husband who she refuses to leave even though he treats her like shit. It breaks my heart that she thinks so lowly of herself and is so consumed with anxiety and fear that she stays with him. Although, she’s never told me that directly. This is just my observation.

Her kids are truly wonderful, though. That is the one ray of light in this constant storm that is my sister's life.

I sigh at that as I pull up to the curb in front of the house and park my car. I eye the place, noting the lights are off. Relief washes over me that it doesn’t appear as if Liam is home. Zoe said he wouldn’t be, but since she said he was next door, I was worried he might’ve returned home.

I have a spare key to her house, so I let myself in. She told me the extra key fob to her car is hanging up on a shelf near the back door, so I rush across clean living room and into the kitchen that looks spotless—my sister is obsessed with keeping it clean to the point where it almost feels, looks, and smells sterile in the creepiest way possible. When I reach the shelf, I find the key fob and then head out. I’m moving so quickly that I end up smacking into an end table and knocking over a bunch of containers that were on it. Papers and small objects scatter all over the recently mopped hardwood floors.

“Shit.” I bend down to clean up the mess, crossing my fingers I didn’t break anything.

Most of the items are paper clips, thumbtacks, notebooks, and markers, so nothing is broken. The organization that everything had before is gone, though, and Zoe will flip when she notices. Sighing, I put everything back as neatly as I can. I’m about finished when I come across a tiny tin case. It seems oddly out of place with the rest of the items. I’m not one for snooping, but considering my sister’s history, I decide to open it.

My heart sinks.

Inside is a small plastic bag that has a few ounces of white crystal-like powder.

“Dammit, Zoe,” I mumble.

I hold the bag in my hand, struggling over what to do. Part of me wants to dump it down the toilet, but the other part knows Zoe will freak out when she finds out I did this, and more than likely just go buy more. I know how this works since this isn’t the first time I’ve found her stash.

Even though I want to get the hell out of the house, I dig my phone out of my pocket and call my brother. He answers after three rings.

“Hey, I was actually going to call you today,” he answers. “To talk to you about dad’s birthday coming up.”

“I want to talk about that, but later,” I say. “I have a problem and I don’t know what to do.”

His light tone shifts to seriousness. “What happened?”