Page 61 of Harper's Song

Harper

I spent the whole night after Reggie left trying to get free. My wrist was bleeding alarmingly by the time I gave up trying to pull my hand through the shackles and started trying to pry the chain out of the wooden walls of this dusty, dirty bedroom. But it’s attached to a metal plate and four fat screws. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing goes right through the wall and into the next room. I broke all my nails and cut all my fingers trying to unscrew it.

But every time I thought about giving up, the knife and Reggie’s dark forest eyes flashed before my eyes and I worked even harder. There are three more of these chains nailed into the wall and the floor, two for the arms, two for the legs. And every time I let myself think about what they’ll be used for, I redoubled my efforts at getting free.

I made a lot of noise banging on the wall as I tried to break the wooden slabs, and kicking the bed so I could rip off a piece of the metal to use as a tool or a weapon, and finally just kicking stuff in frustration because nothing was budging. But I figured, let them come, sooner is better than later. I can still use the chain to defend myself. They’ll have to kill me before they rape and disfigure me. Not that I doubted they would.

But no one came to see what I was doing. Or after I screamed for help for a while. So I’m sure I’m alone in this house. I also doubt there’s anyone else near it. But I can’t see out the window because it’s covered by a thin, opaque, and yellowish curtain.

It doesn’t block out the sun though. It’s just coming up now, casting a soft, pale gold light, prettier than anything I’ve ever seen. I’m sitting on the bare floor by the bed, my back against the wall, my head and my hands and my heart aching because none of this would’ve happened if I’d just listened to the warnings. First from Jax and then from my dad.

Jax could be dead. They could very well have killed him after they took me.

So I’m hoping, so hard, that he was in fact working for them like my dad claimed, because that would mean he’s alive.

But I don’t believe any of that.

No one loves me as much as Jax does. That’s not possible. He would die before letting Reggie take me and chain me up in here. Just as I would die before I let my father kill him or whatever he feared.

Not that there’s any point in thinking that way.

We’re both gonna die now. Separately. Alone.

It’s more than I can stand thinking about. So I just stare at the wall, admiring the soft golden light and think of nothing at all.

I must’ve dozed off because the door creaking open wakes me from a pleasant, fuzzy dream I don’t remember or want to leave. My heart is racing so bad I’m nauseous and dizzy, because I’m not ready yet. I’m not ready to give up. Not read to lose what I just got back and all my dreams besides.

But it’s not Reggie who enters.

It’s a middle aged club girl with dyed bright red hair that comes down to her butt. She’s wearing a tight leather miniskirt and a tank top made out of silver sequins. One of the straps of her bra is hanging down by her elbow and the ton of makeup, mascara and lipstick she’s wearing is smudged all over her face. She’s holding a plastic bag and swaying precariously on her silver platform shoes as she approaches the bed.

“Who are you?” I ask, startling her, because she clearly expected to find me on the bed and not on the floor beside it.

“What’s it to you?” she snaps and tosses the plastic bag on the bed, causing a water bottle to roll out. “I brought you some food.”

Up close she looks even older than I assumed. She’s pushing fifty, at least. I’m sure her nose has been broken at least once and there’s a star-shaped scar on her left cheek which her smudged mascara only accentuates. Her neck shows evidence of severe strangulation sometime in the past. Maybe even a cut. This life has not treated her well.

“How about you help me get out of here instead?” I ask and stand up, the movement of the metal shackles against my bruised and cut up wrist shooting sharp pain all the way to my shoulder.

She laughs harshly, revealing a bunch of missing teeth. “That’s more than my life’s worth, sweetie.”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” I say. “I can get you out of this life, set you up with a nice house, maybe even a job.”

I’m thinking primarily of Anne’s, Doc’s wife’s charity and halfway house for women that were chewed up and spit out by this world, but I’m sure my parents will chip in too.

She laughs again, throwing her head back this time, which makes her stumble backwards and almost fall.

“What makes you think I’m not exactly where I want to be?” she asks, still chuckling. “And I’d never take anything from your backstabbing piece of shit family. Pretending to care for abandoned children and abused women, while your murderous men go out and make widows and orphans everywhere. You’re all just a bunch of hypocrites and murderers.”

“You know who I am?” I ask dumbly. Clearly she does. And she seems to know much more than that besides.

She smiles and gazes at me with a look that suggests she thinks I’m stupid. “You’re Scar’s daughter. Devil’s Nightmare MC killed my old man many years ago. Your father and the rest of them are the reason I am where I am now. I wouldn’t be, not if he were still around. So no, sweetie, I will not let you go.”

Her words feel like a slap to the face, or more like, several. No wonder I was never allowed to go anywhere growing up. No wonder all us children always had teams of bodyguards everywhere we went. How many lives did the Devils ruin? How many people are burning to get revenge on us?

I get that, I do. I’m sure my entire family does. It’s the main reason that shroud of sorrow hung so heavily over everything and everyone when I left. And I’ll have to find some sort of peace with that eventually, but first I have to get out of this with my life.

“They never killed women and children,” I say and this I know for a fact. They’re all very proud of it and it’s one of those things that lets them live with all the rest that they did do. From the youngest member to the oldest.

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