Chapter 1
A smile can mean a lot of things. So many things. I don’t smile because I’m happy all the time; I smile because I have to. I don’t want all the questions, so I hide my problems with a smile. My name is Harper Clark, and I don’t want your pity. I don’t want anything from you. I’m writing this for me, and if you read it, kudos to you. I write this because the nightmares are starting to consume me and my screams ring across deaf ears. So don’t you dare think for a minute I wrote this for you.
It started before I was born, my father left my mom in a blink once he heard the words “baby girl”. I don’t know why he left. Maybe it was because he wanted a boy, or because fear constricted his chest at the thought of messing up. Nothing really seemed abnormal. There are plenty of kids who have to grow up without a dad, but him leaving was just the beginning of my trials. At age six, he showed up again. Drunk, he staggered toward the door. His eyes were glazed with sadness and his words were slurred together like melted ice cream.
“Take me back.” He begged my mom.
“Luke, I don’t know why you thought you could just show back up here. You’re drunk. Go home.” My mom hissed.
The venom dripping from her voice resonated within my father’s ears. He sighed and stumbled down the porch steps. I still remember him turning his head and looking me right in my brown eyes, a sad smile playing his lips. I never saw him again. That’s alright though, I wouldn’t need a dad soon.
I was a little eight-year-old, smiling, trying to hide the fact that my father wasn’t in the crowd of dads’ picking up their little girls after the dance recital. Girls’ giggles and fathers’ hearty chuckles filled the auditorium. A sigh escaped my lips as I ambled out of the dressing room. My mom was awfully sick, and I knew she felt terrible for missing my recital. I know she wanted me to pick up her medicine after my recital, so I did just that. The trip to the pharmacy wasn’t far and soon enough I was holding a bag of her medicine.
“Hurry back.” I remember my mom saying before I left. “The streets are no place for a little girl.”
I tried to make haste, walking as fast as my short legs would allow. Then it happened. He looked nice, smiling blue eyes looking at me, his hair combed back nicely.
“Hey sweetie. You look like you’re in a hurry. You need a lift?” He asked, his voice like sweet honey.
I knew I shouldn’t trust strangers, even if they looked nice. There was so much evil behind smiling eyes.
“I’m okay, sir.” I replied using my manners. “I prefer to walk.”
He grinned and looked at me. “Too bad.”
He grabbed my arm, and a scream fell from my lips. His large hand covered my scream and muffled my spirit. I was thrown into a car and mom’s medicine toppled out of the bag and onto the dirty street. The man told me that if I made another noise I would regret it. I couldn’t get the image of my sick mother out of my mind. My stomach clenched and twisted in a disquieting manner. I knew one thing— my mother wouldn’t be getting her medicine.
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