Page 1 of Our Ruined Beginnings

Prologue

Harper

Myeyelidsfeelweigheddown. Grit scrapes against them as I fight to peel them open. Tears spring to the surface, combating the sting as my sight adjusts to the darkness shadowing the room.

The lack of sunlight is a welcome presence. The blinds remain closed, as they have done since my world was upended. Too many days have passed since then, yet not nearly enough for any of it to matter.

From the moment I was discharged from the hospital and delivered home by my driver, Sam, I’ve been locked away in my childhood bedroom—a prison of my own making. Hiding from the world while I wish the days away, hoping reality will dissipate into nothing around me.

Occasionally, the staff pester me with food and drinks, pleading with me to eat something, to stay hydrated. Sometimes, it takes more energy to resist than it does to give in, so I take the bare minimum—just enough that they’ll pat themselves on the back for a job well done.

The days I eat are the days I wash. On those days, I somehow make my way to the shower in my en suite bathroom, and by the time I’ve stood under the hottest water, hoping to scald away the memories, my bed is freshly changed. Gregor, our housekeeper, always opens the curtains too, and props the windows open to breathe air into the room. On those days, I close them again and crawl back into bed.

Today, there isn’t food waiting at my door, nor is Gregor pottering around, so I’m not sure what’s brought me back to this hell of a reality … until I try to swallow, and it gets lodged in my throat, dryness coating every inch. I reach for the water bottle on my dresser, twist the cap, and take a gulp. The chilling liquid does little to refresh me, instead sending a bitter chill through my veins that makes me shiver. My eyelids flutter closed as I place the bottle back on the nightstand and exhale deeply, hoping the drift back into unconsciousness comes easily.

At times, my mind is kind, letting me live in a state of perpetual denial. Other times, though—like now—the second my lids close, the darkness of the room is replaced by vivid flashes of everything I’ve lost.

Caleb’s face as he laughs. The love I saw reflected back at me through his eyes. Twirling his dream girl in white around the dance floor. Little boys that look like him running through the grass. Him growing old. Things I wish with all my might I’d got to see.

Then I see the things I don’t wish to.

His broken body. The fight to release him, and the battle to keep him alive. Those visions come unbidden, though it’s strange. I wasn’t there in those moments—I didn’t see those either.

So many lives changed however long ago. So many moments we’ll no longer have, moments I wish I could get back. And I didn’t just lose Caleb that night. I lost everything.

The sun. The first pool day of summer. Late-night trips to the movies. My friends.Ourfriends.

Him.

I wrench my eyes open, the darkness in my room preferable to the memories. Someday, I’ll be strong enough to reminisce, but not today.

The door creaks open, and for the first time, I’m grateful for the distraction. Not that Gregor will speak to me. Maybe he’s under strict instructions not to.Don’t engage with the fuck-up.Or maybe he knows I don’t have it in me to form a reply. Either way, being pulled from the constant reminders of what I’ve lost is welcome.

Except today, there’s no clinking as the tray is put down, followed by a hasty retreat. Instead, heavy footsteps cross the room, passing me lying in my bed until he reaches the wall that’s almost all glass. The glass that’s been covered by heavy curtains for however long I’ve been stagnating here, but apparently no longer.

The thick material is yanked from the middle, and I scrunch my eyes shut, the half second of light enough to feel like it’s burning. My eyes are no longer used to being open, let alone seeing light. I hear the curtain being pulled all the way along the rail until there’s a short pause, and then it resumes, presumably the other half of the window being uncovered.

The light glows bright red through my eyelids, and I have to cover them with my hands to ease the pain. What is going on? Mostly, I’m left alone, but every now and then I’m reminded by the revolving door of staff that the world still turns and time still ticks on. Part of me wonders what Caleb would think if he could see me now.

I’d like to believe he wouldn’t want this for me, that he’d be mad at me for trying to fall into the same space he now lives in. But, since I can’t ask him, I’ve convinced myself he’d want me there too. After all, it’s my fault he’s there.

“Harper,” my father snaps, his baritone timbre pulling me from my thoughts. I force myself upright and turn to face the man in question. His hair is grayer than I remember, but that can’t be right—how long has it been? His face is cleanly shaven, and the set of his jaw tight. Wearing a three-piece suit, he looks perfectly put together, as always, even with his mouth set in a vicious scowl. “Could you be any more of a disappointment?”

“Doubt it,” I quip, finding the energy to smile sweetly at him as I squint at the bright light.

While this bedroom may be a prison of my own design, this house is his. He holds the keys to my freedom beyond these four walls, and he’s been adamant about keeping me on a tight leash after what happened at the start of the summer. He hasn’t stepped foot in this room since.

If there’s one thing I know about my father, it’s that appearance is everything to him. So, imagine his anger when he found out his daughter had sullied our family name forever. Under different circumstances, I might be proud to be the source of disappointment for him, but not this time.

“Insolent as always,” he says, stalking closer to the four-poster. “It’s time for you to get out of this bed and pack. Classes start after the weekend. I’m not having you continue this pathetic show you’ve been performing for the last three months.” He waves his hand over the bed, gesturing to the crumpled sheets and empty water bottles littering one side. My mouth opens, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand. “You’ve done enough damage to this family and our reputation, so while your mother and I attempt to fixyourmistakes, you can do us the decency of being far away from here.”

“But—”

“Enough,” he blares, pulling the comforter from my legs and tossing it to the side. “Sam will be here at eight a.m. Friday morning. You’re going to the airport.”

Chapter One

Harper

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