Chapter One
I thought I knew what fear was. Thought I’d mastered it. Thought I could handle whatever is thrown my way because I’ve survived worse. But knowing what fear is doesn’t mean I’m immune to it, or that I understand how to channel the emotion into something useful. It just means I know when I’m beat.
Darkness presses in on all sides, swallowing me whole.
Pitch-black presses in from all sides, not a crack of light to be seen.
I don’t know where I am, who took me, or what they plan to do, yet it’s the loneliness I can’t stand the most. The unbearable thought that I’ve awoken from the lie that I’m content being on my own.
That I don’t need anyone. I do need people.
I need Rhys and Clay, and even Addy. I need my aunt and anyone else who cares about me.
Instead, what I have are broken dreams and a heart that is torn to pieces.
I keep replaying that night over and over.
I stood in the most beautiful gown I’ve ever worn, staring into the eyes of two men who were silently pleading with me to make an impossible choice.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t exist with only one, because no matter who I chose, someone would be left bleeding.
Maybe that’s why I’m lying here, on my back in desolate isolation, believing it’s what I deserve. I couldn’t choose one, so I broke them both and myself in the process. It was the inevitable outcome, yet I walked down that path anyway, leading them on and pretending I had a future with both.
But, even after all my self-loathing, I don’t regret it.
I couldn’t lie to myself, not then and certainly not now.
From Clay’s strong, protective arms that shielded me to Rhys’ cocky grin that warmed me, my heart wanted what it wanted.
Apparently, she’s a greedy bitch. A bitter smile curves my lips despite the muted ache in my chest. For one moment in time, I was loved, completely and fiercely.
That’s more than some people get in an entire lifetime. I should be grateful.
The throbbing in my neck dulls to a low pulse, my limbs starting to regain feeling. I’ve been trapped in the shell of my mind for so long, I don’t know how long I’ve been here. Wherever here is. My head rests on a lumpy pillow, my body curled on a spongy mattress that smells faintly of mildew.
Sluggishly, I drag myself forward onto the wooden floor, catching splinters that bury themselves in my palms. There are panels beneath my fingertips, which crack my nails when I have the strength to try and pry them up.
From the feel of soft inner linings, I’m still in my hoodie and sweatpants, although I stink of dried sweat.
I continue to blindly map every inch of the room with my hands, unknowing if someone is in here with me or not.
Without my sight or hearing, I’m in my own version of hell.
I dare not breathe too loudly or call out, lest I catch the attention of the wrong person.
If anyone is even here. By the time I’ve come full circle back to the spring mattress, I can at least deduce I’m alone in this small room of slanted ceiling beams.
There’s nothing but endless wood and stale air.
No door that I can find, no furniture aside from a tin bucket in the corner, which I refuse to touch.
I’d rather my bladder explode and let whoever brought me here deal with the aftermath.
Not exactly the poetic end I envisioned for myself, but at least I’ll go out stubborn. There’s some pride in that, right?
I wish I could remember anything beyond leaving Rhys’ house.
Everything after that blurs together like it’s smeared across my memories.
Maybe my mind’s protecting me, or maybe I’m clinging too hard to the last thing he said to me.
Show me how to love. His words echo in the empty spaces of my chest, haunting me.
The idiot didn’t realize love was staring him right in the face.
I bared everything I had at the bottom of that staircase, my heart and my soul.
In return, one rejected me, and the other caged me.
Sometimes, hard choices are knives, no matter which way you hold them.
Restless with nowhere to go, I drop back down onto the mattress, bending my legs for my feet to remain planted on the cold floorboards.
The silence here isn’t peaceful, it’s suffocating.
The kind that screams louder in my head than any noise ever could.
Without a window, I can’t tell if it’s night or day, if I’m in an attic or a basement.
Maybe it’s a small mercy that I can’t hear whatever is going on around me.
There could be others being held prisoner nearby, their cries of despair falling flat and going ignored.
As always, my thoughts run away from me without any direction.
A shiver runs through me as I imagine rats scratching in the walls and spiders crawling across my skin.
My body folds in on itself, knees drawn up tight.
I force myself to breathe. In, out. My heartbeat is the only sound I can feel, a faint drum beneath my ribs reminding me I’m still here. Still alive. For now.
Not that I believe anyone deserves this, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what I did to earn it.
Sure, I’m not the most sociable person. I prefer silence to small talk, and approaching me in the mornings before coffee is a risk I wouldn’t advise, but I don’t believe I’ve ever intentionally hurt anyone.
Even with Klara, whose nose is always stuck in the air and her underlying bitchiness, I’ve refused to come down to her level.
Aside from the shrimp-cocktail hair mask, which was pretty disgusting.
And she thinks I stole her boyfriend…oh god, did Klara actually do this to me?
Somehow, I don’t think so. She’s spoiled, but she’s not sadistic.
Taking away the light for a deaf person is cruel.
It strips me of control. For all I know, I could be locked in a wooden crate on a crowded street, or in a shipping container halfway across the world.
No. Stop. Too many movies, Harper. But what else am I supposed to think about?
I wonder what the guys are doing right now.
Clay left so swiftly, I didn’t get a chance to gauge his true reaction.
Maybe he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to deal with Rhys anymore or see me again.
I told them I was leaving. What if that’s all they think has happened?
That I’ve driven back to Aunt Marg’s to start online classes and rebuild what’s left of me.
A memory drips back like a leaky faucet, images splattering across the forefront of my mind.
Me changing into my sweats by the trunk of my Audi and hugging Addy goodbye.
I told myself leaving was the right thing to do, that seeing the boys every day would destroy me, but staying would only spread misery.
Now, I’d give anything for that heartbreak instead of this empty darkness.
The thought twists in my chest. I should be relieved they’re not worrying, yet I fear that no one’s looking. That no one will come.
Okay, that’s it. Pity. Party. Over.
Rolling my shoulders, I try to loosen the stiffness and move to stand in the center of my wooden prison.
It’s the only place I can stand at my full height without headbutting the slanted beams. I stretch, fingertips grazing the ceiling, then bend forward and touch my toes.
My muscles groan in protest, tight and heavy.
I’ve never been athletic, but right now, movement is survival.
I joke to myself that maybe I’ll drop into some burpees, get in shape before my captor shows up.
I’ll suddenly bust out some biceps and knock them flat on their ass.
Yeah, sure. More likely, I’d pass out or pee myself before I make the first swing.
By the time I’m done stretching, at least my breathing is steadier. The trembling has eased somewhat. I straighten and lift my chin into the air, for my benefit only.
I’m Harper fucking Addams. I’ve looked death in the face and said, not today, Satan.
I’m a deaf girl who survived in an elite academy, drew a guilt-ridden jock out of his shell, and made the school’s biggest asshole fall to his knees.
I’ve survived public humiliation, a sex tape, a fire, and every emotional warzone in between.
I can handle a little kidnapping. Bouncing on my toes, I lift my fists up, punching the air.
A flicker of confidence flares to life in my chest. I don’t need saving. I’ll save my damn self.
“Pssssst.”
The sound detonates inside my skull like an explosion, sharp and sudden enough to rip a scream from my throat as I stumble backwards and hit the floor.
My elbow slams against the boards, pain shooting up my arm like lightning, and I choke on a groan as I cradle it to my chest. The voice continues pressing in from the sides of my head, words forming out of nowhere from whatever Bluetooth device has connected to my implants.
“Oh shoot, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you, but I didn’t want to barge in, which would’ve startled you more, so I just—”
“Kenneth?!” The name rips out of me on a high screech before I can stop it, faintly echoing back like a cruel trick.
My heart starts to race as I twist around uselessly, eyes straining against the dark that refuses to give up any shapes or answers.
Is he here to save me, or is he trapped too?
I picture him, his mess of red curls, that ridiculous oversized tux jacket, the creepy keychain he gifted me.
The memory sharpens, forming in the shape of our hug, then the sharp sting at my neck and the sudden, suffocating black.