“That’s when you were forced to change families?”
“Yeah, that was the straw that broke that camel’s back, I think. If I had known what kind of family I would have been moved to, I never would have broken into the school.”
“What kind of people were the new family?”
“It wasn’t the family so much as it was the other foster kid I had to share the house with. The first day there, I had a pretty pleasant conversation with the parents about their expectations and all that crap. You know the drill. We were just sitting at their kitchen table, talking, when I heard the door open and this hulking guy around my age fills the door way.
“‘Harper,’ the old lady says. ‘This is John Bell. He’s the other foster child here.’ I stood up and shook the guy’s hand. He sat down with us and seemed pleasant enough through conversation. We all ate dinner together and then watched a little television. All nice and neat and pretty, right?
“Anyway, the next day, John introduced me to the kids at my new school and others in the neighborhood. I was really starting to believe he would be cool and that this family could be one I could stick it out with, at least for a little while.
“I couldn’t have been more wrong,” I said solemnly.
“What happened?”
“Well, that night, while I was sleeping, I heard the wood creak below someone's feet just outside my door. I sat up, turned on the lamp and looked at the time. It was just after two in the morning. I called out but heard nothing else. I just assumed it was John going to the restroom so I fell back to sleep.
“The next night, at the same time, the same thing happened but this time I stayed quiet and kept the light off. That’s when I panicked a little.” I grabbed Callum’s hand and held it tightly at the memory. “My bedroom door opened a crack and I sat up quickly but no one came in. It was an old house and I figured it just fell open. I scolded myself for being so paranoid. I chocked it up as an overreaction to a new home.
“Two weeks later, I became pretty comfortable again, not experiencing anything weird at night again. John and I had also become pretty good friends but one school night, I woke up to him sitting beside me on the bed.” Callum squeezed my hand. “I asked him if he was okay and if he needed anything but he just sat and stared at me. I sat up and scooted as closely to the headboard as possible but John lunged himself at me. I opened my mouth to scream but his big, meaty hand stifled it. ‘Don’t speak’, he told me. I shook my head in agreement, hoping I was misreading what was going on. He kept his hand over my mouth though and I knew I should most definitely be concerned. ‘Harper,’ he said, ‘I want you to sleep with me.’ I shook my head hard but he just clamped his hand tighter across my mouth. ‘Not to have sex with me but to sleep next to me,’ he said. He laid his body next to mine and drug me into him. I’d never felt so frightened in my life. John was so much larger than me, I couldn’t fight him. He cruelly dug his nails into my arms to keep me in my place. He whispered in my ear that if I left or told anyone what he was doing that he would kill me. I just nodded and endured the night next to his sweaty, awful body. I eventually fell asleep and woke to no one there. I didn’t know if I’d dreamed it or not but when I stood up and noticed his nail marks in my arm, I knew.
“That morning, I showered, trying to wash him off of me, then dressed. The foster family I was staying with made it very clear I couldn’t be late for breakfast. So, I nervously trudged down the stairs and entered the dining room. Everyone was sat there, including John. The foster mother scolded me for being late and I apologized. John sat directly across from me and smiled. He said, ‘Good morning, Harper. How’d you sleep?’ I almost spit up the orange juice I’d nervously downed. I told him I’d slept terribly. He said that he thought that a shame. I couldn’t bear to look at him the rest of the morning. I avoided him at school but at the end of the day, he forced me to walk with him home.”
“My God, Harper. Please tell me you got out of that house.”
“I tried, Callum,” I said, a single tear falling down my cheek. “I tried so very hard. I went to my social worker but I stupidly didn’t tell them what John was doing to me and they told me there was no need to change my home, that I needed to adapt.
“It was all about power and possession for John. He would force me to do strange things like sleep on the floor while he slept in my bed, or tie his shoes for him, or clean his laundry. Once, he made me go to a dance with him but forced me to sit in a corner. He told me if I moved that he’d kill me. He always threatened death.
“Finally, after a few weeks, it dawned on me that I’d forgotten who I was. I’d forgotten that I was friggin’ Harper Bailey and that I didn’t take shit from anyone.
“I knew I couldn’t get out of that foster home without some sort of proof of his craziness so I figured out the perfect way to get him. John couldn’t stand being out of control so I started locking my door at night. At first, he ignored it, deciding to take my decision out on me later but I endured it all and kept on locking my door. He’d knock softly and ask me nicely to open up but I refused. He’d threaten me the next morning but I’d ignore him, patiently waiting for him to lose control. Finally, after the sixth night, John couldn’t take it anymore and began to beat at the door violently, waking our foster parents. They wanted to know what he was doing and John, not being a very bright guy, told them I’d taken a cd from his room without asking. I told them that I did nothing of the sort and that the cd he was referring to was actually in his stereo as we spoke. They confirmed it was true and I was given my out.”