Chapter 36 The Night Everything Burned
Trigger warning: This chapter contains scenes of sexual violence, abuse, and graphic trauma involving minors.
The smell of potato soup filled the kitchen by the time Harmony and I came downstairs. The kind of thick, heavy smell that meant Mom had used the last of the cream. She always used the last of something these days.
"There you two are. Perfect timing."
We moved around each other in the small space. Harmony sliced the bread. I set the table. Mom stirred the pot and talked about tomorrow’s chores and whether I had finished my reading assignment. She still gave us schoolwork even though we hadn’t been to a real school since Dad died two years ago.
When the soup was ready, Mom served us first. The rest went into her own bowl. Noticeably less. Harmony and I exchanged a quick glance but said nothing. We had stopped mentioning it months ago.
The soup was good. For a few minutes everything felt almost normal. Mom smiling tiredly across the table. Harmony sneaking extra bread. The stack of bills by the microwave we all pretended not to see. The deepening lines in Mom’s face we pretended weren’t getting worse.
Then came the knock.
I froze, spoon halfway to my mouth. Nobody ever came out here. Especially not at this hour.
I glanced at Mom. For a split second, something flickered across her face — worry, maybe fear. She smoothed it away the moment she noticed me watching.
"I'll get it," she said lightly, already rising. She gave us a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
I watched her walk to the door, unease twisting low in my stomach. Something felt wrong.
Mom opened it. At first I saw only darkness and the vague shapes of several figures on the porch. Then my eyes adjusted.
Four men stood there. The one in front was broader, his presence somehow filling the doorway. My stomach tightened before my mind caught up. His gaze slid past Mom and locked directly on me.
He held my eyes for a long second. Every instinct in me screamed danger.
Then he looked away, back to Mom, and I remembered how to breathe.
"Thomas?" Mom said. "What brings you here?"
The big man stepped forward. “Came to settle your husband’s account.”
Mom’s shoulders stiffened. She turned to us with a forced smile.
“Girls, go upstairs. I need to speak with these gentlemen.”
I glanced at Harmony. She didn’t argue. She just grabbed my hand and pulled me from the table. Instead of heading upstairs she tugged me into the shadowed alcove at the bottom of the stairs and pressed us both against the wall. Our breathing sounded too loud in the narrow space.
We stayed hidden, listening.
Mom’s voice carried from the living room. “Thomas, what on earth is going on?”
“Your husband took out a loan three years ago,” the man said. “Full amount was due four weeks ago.”
“There was no loan,” Mom snapped. “I would’ve known.”
A low chuckle. “Oh, there was. 50,000 dollars. Your husband signed for it himself.” Papers rustled. “Recognize the signature?”
Silence.
Then Mom’s voice cracked. “We… we don’t have that kind of money. The farm’s barely hanging on. He never told me—”
“With interest and penalties,” Thomas continued, ignoring her, “you’re at 83,000 now. And it keeps climbing every day you waste my time.”
I didn't fully understand it, but I knew it was bad. I squeezed Harmony’s hand until our fingers hurt.
“Thomas, please.” Mom’s voice broke in a way I’d never heard. “I have two girls. We’ve barely been eating some weeks. Can’t we work out a payment plan? Anything. I’m begging you.”
Another laugh, slow and cold. It crawled over my skin.
“We can work something out,” he said, savoring the words. “I’ll give you four more weeks. But you’re going to need to put something down tonight to buy that time.”
My whole body went cold.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.
” His tone dropped, becoming intimate and ugly.
“Those two pretty little things you sent upstairs. The older one especially. Seems a shame to waste something pretty on a dying farm. I’ll take them as collateral.
You get them back when the debt is cleared. In full.”
Harmony’s nails dug into my palm.
“They’re children,” Mom snarled. “Thirteen and sixteen. Over my dead fucking body—”
“That,” Thomas said softly, “can be arranged.”
A violent crash exploded through the house, furniture slamming, glass shattering.
We didn’t think. We ran.
Bursting into the living room, the scene hit me like a gut punch. Thomas had Mom pinned to the floor, one massive hand around her throat while the other pinned her wrist. Blood trickled from her lip. She was fighting, twisting beneath his weight, but he was bigger and stronger.
Her wide, terrified eyes locked onto us. Her lips moved, forming one silent, desperate word:
Run.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't move. My legs felt rooted to the floor, my mind blank with terror. Then Harmony yanked my hand so hard it hurt, dragging me toward the back door. I stumbled after her, feet tangling, until raw survival kicked in and I ran on my own.
Behind us, Thomas roared, “Go after them! Grab the little bitches.”
We burst through the back door and into the cold air, but we only made a few desperate strides toward the tree line before heavy bodies slammed into us.
The impact drove the air from my lungs as I hit the dirt.
I tried to crawl, to scream, to fight, anything, but strong hands seized me, lifting me like I weighed nothing.
“No! Let go of her!” Harmony shrieked, kicking and thrashing beside me. “Don’t you fucking touch her!”
It was useless. They were grown shifters in their prime. We were just two terrified girls.
They hauled us back toward the house with terrifying ease and dragged us into the living room. Mom was still pinned to the floor under Thomas, his thick forearm crushing her chest. Her eyes were wide with animal fear when she saw us.
Thomas turned his head slowly. A cruel smile spread across his face.
“Changed my mind,” he said. “You two are more trouble than you’re worth as collateral.”
For one stupid second, a flicker of hope cut through me. He’s letting us go.
Then he smiled wider.
It wasn't a kind smile. It wasn't even human. It was the kind of smile that made every instinct in me curl inward.
He looked down at Mom. She started shaking her head, tears streaming.
“Please, Thomas,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Not in front of them. I’m begging you. Not in front of my girls.”
He ignored her and looked at us. First at Harmony, then at me. He wanted us to see. He wanted us to remember. He shoved up her skirt.
The man behind me twisted a fist into my hair and forced my head forward when I tried to look away. My eyes squeezed shut automatically anyway, but it did not help. Nothing helped.
The sounds still filled the room.
Mom crying. Harmony fighting hard enough beside me that someone cursed at her to hold still.
I remember shaking so badly my teeth hurt from it.
After a while the sounds stopped making sense individually. Everything blurred into one endless stretch of noise and fear while my mind tried to crawl somewhere else entirely. I don't know how long I was gone. Minutes, maybe. Maybe longer.
When I opened my eyes again, Thomas stood over Mom adjusting his pants while she lay motionless on the floor, her skirt bunched around her waist.
For one impossible second, I thought maybe she was dead. Then she moved weakly and relief hit so hard it almost hurt.
Thomas looked at us with lazy satisfaction.
“The fun’s just getting started,” he said, almost gently. “So… who wants to be next?”
The man behind me pressed closer, his hot breath on my neck. “I want this one.”
I would not learn his name until years later. John.
Thomas gave a low laugh. “Fine. But you owe me for her.” He turned toward Harmony. “This one I’ll break in myself.”
Harmony’s furious snarl tore through the house.
It was raw, primal and nothing like her voice.
Bones snapped and shifted under her skin.
Clothes ripped. Golden fur burst across her body as her face pushed forward into a cougar’s snout.
She dropped to all fours and launched herself at Thomas with a snarl that shook the walls.
She didn't stand a chance.
Thomas shifted in one fluid, terrifying motion — a massive wolf, twice her size. The fight was savage but short. A sickening thud. A pained yelp. Then Harmony collapsed back into her human form, naked and trembling on the floor.
I screamed her name as they took her. I fought like something feral, thrashing, clawing, biting, until a fist slammed into my face.
The world tilted. My ears rang. John was on me before I had finished falling.
He was first. Then others whose faces I would never forget and whose names I would learn much later.
Hours became nothing but pain, weight and voices.
“Look at me while I do it.”
Another man laughed. "She's just a kid."
I tried to disappear inside my head. Sometimes I almost made it. Then a boot came down on the side of my skull. My temple cracked against the floor, and everything went black.
When I woke, my jaw was broken, my mouth full of blood, and a different man was on top of me. One eye was swollen shut. Deep burning pain radiated through my lower body.
I stopped screaming. I stopped fighting. I simply endured.
Hours later, footsteps moved through the house. Liquid splashed across the floor. The sharp bite of gasoline cut through the haze.
“Burn, bitches,” a voice called.
The door slammed.
For a long moment I lay staring at the ceiling, too shattered to move. Then orange light flickered across the wall. Smoke rolled thick along the rafters.
The house was on fire.
I rolled onto my stomach, gasping as broken ribs ground together. Pain flared everywhere.
“Mhh… Mom?”
She lay a few feet away, eyes open and glassy. I dragged myself to her, each movement sending a jolt through my ribs. I shook her shoulder.
“Mmm… wake up.”
Her head lolled unnaturally. My throat tightened, as I reached up with trembling fingers and closed her eyes, leaving bloody smears on her lids.
Smoke thickened, stinging my eyes. I coughed, and the pain in my ribs nearly knocked me out again. I turned my head toward Harmony. She was curled near the overturned table, naked and motionless except for the faint rise and fall of her chest.
“Harm… nee…” I rasped, each word costing me. I dragged myself toward her. When I reached her, her eyes fluttered open.
“Sissy…” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry… I couldn’t protect you.”
“Don’,” I slurred. “Not… your faul’. Fire… we haff to go.”
She tried to lift her hand but couldn’t. Her glassy eyes met mine.
“I love you,” she breathed.
Tears stung the cuts on my face. “Love you too… Pleash… don’ leaf me.”
Her fingers brushed weakly against mine, then slipped away. Her body went still.
I pulled her close anyway, holding her as smoke filled my lungs and something heavy collapsed behind us in a roar of flames. Heat rolled across the room like a living thing.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair.
I let her go.
Crawling to the back door was agony. Every inch sent fresh agony through my broken body. Blood kept running into my good eye, blurring the world. Deep cuts across my arms and torso still bled heavily.
I don’t know how I got the door open. I just remember collapsing into the cold night air, dragging myself across the yard toward the trees as the house burned behind me.
The forest swallowed me whole.
Only when I could go no farther did my body finally give out.
And everything went black.