I don't care about whose DNA has recombined with whose. When everything goes to hell, the people who stand by you without flinching, they are your family. - Jim Butcher
The hospital room was suffocatingly quiet, sterile smell of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint beeping of machines and distant voices echoing down the hallway. The steady beeping of machines monitoring Jon's vital signs echoed in my head. I sat in a stiff plastic chair beside his bed, my hands clenched tightly in my lap as I watched him sleep.
Jon's face was pale, his usually tan complexion blue now dulled from loss of blood . The bandages wrapped around his head and arm served as a stark reminder of the brutal attack that had taken place in my own home. Guilt gnawed at me like a hungry beast, knowing that it was my house where he had been ambushed by an unknown assailant.
I glanced at the empty chair beside me, expecting to see Jon's parents rushing in any moment now, muttering half-hearted apologies. They should have been here by now, standing vigil by their son's side as any loving parent would.
Instead, it was my own mother who entered the room, her apron still stained with flour from a long day at our family bakery. The look of concern on her face mirrored my own fears as she rushed to my side, grasping my hand tightly.
"What happened?" she asked breathlessly, her eyes searching mine for answers.
I struggled to find the words to explain what had transpired earlier that evening - how Jon had come over to study for our upcoming exams and ended up being attacked by an unknown assailant in my own home. The memory sent shivers down my spine, and I felt a wave of guilt wash over me for not being able to protect him.
"It was my fault."
"Harley, honey," my mom whispered as she placed a hand on my shoulder. "It wasn't your fault."
But it was. If I hadn't insisted on checking out that noise upstairs, if I had just ignored it, Jon wouldn't be lying here now.
I looked up at her with tears in my eyes, feeling overwhelmed by guilt and fear for Jon's safety.
"I should have seen who did this to him," I whispered hoarsely.
"You couldn't have known, Harley," my mom replied softly. "What matters now is that he's safe and getting the care he needs."
Before I could respond, a low groan filled the room, drawing our attention back to Jon as he began to stir from his slumber. My heart leaped into my throat as I watched him slowly open his eyes, confusion clouding his gaze before recognition set in.
"Harley?" he murmured hoarsely, reaching out a trembling hand towards me.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I took hold of his hand gently, relief flooding through me at seeing him awake and aware. In that moment, all that mattered was that he was alive and safe in this hospital bed - everything else could wait until later.
"What happened?"
"We were just going to ask the same thing," a firm voice sounded from the doorway.
Looking over, I noticed Jon's parents had finally decided to show up.
"Look who's finally here," I mumbled to myself.
Apparently not quietly enough as his mother, Milena, asked, "What was that young lady?"
"Nothing," I relented, refusing to indulge in their pettiness. Plus, Jon didn't need the headache on top of the one he was already likely dealing with.
His parents presence only seemed to add tension to the already strained atmosphere in the hospital room.
"Where are the doctors around here? Is no one working?" Owen, Jon's dad exclaimed, looking out into the hallway.
"His nurse just gave him pain meds and the doctor has already been in, which you'd know if you'd been here," I told him, feeling Jon squeeze my hand, in a silent attempt to tell me to let it go.
He instantly turned to face my mom. "Look, Avril, I don't know what kind of child you and Harry raised, but I'd think you'd teach her some manners."
My mom stood straighter, if that was possible, looking up and meeting his eyes, that forever reflected the constant neutral expression on his face.
"We raised an amazing independent young woman. That's who we raised. Besides, she's not wrong. Where have you two been? Your son has been in the hospital for more than two hours and you're only now getting here? What was more important than your son?" She paused, tapping her chin. "Hmm. Let me guess. Work."
Jon's parents were both notoriously successful business people in the town.
They invested in many of the stores around town. Few, including my mom's bakery, are the only ones who refused to have any involvement with the couple.
Jon's mother, Milena, stood tall and imposing, her perfectly curled hair framing her sharp features. She shot me a disdainful look before turning her attention to my mom, Avril.
"Where were you when this happened?" she demanded, her voice laced with accusation.
My mom remained calm, her expression unreadable as she replied, "We were here for Jon when he needed us. Where were you?"
Milena bristled at the implication that they had prioritized work over their son's well-being. Owen, Jon's father, stepped forward defensively.
"We have important responsibilities," he stated firmly.
But my mom wasn't having any of it. "Responsibilities? What about your responsibility as parents to be there for your child when he needs you the most?"
I could feel the tension in the room escalating with each passing moment. I squeezed Jon's hand reassuringly, silently promising him that I would always be there for him no matter what. As tensions rose between our families, I felt myself getting angrier by the second. How dare they come in here acting like they were concerned when they hadn't even bothered to show up until now? But before I could say anything more, Jon squeezed my hand gently as if telling me to let it go.
The argument between our parents escalated quickly as accusations flew back and forth like arrows in battle. My mom stood her ground against them while I tried to calm myself down next to Jon.
Glancing over at us, Mr. Reeves suggested they talk in the hallway, something my mother readily agreed to.
As Jon's parents left the room to have their heated discussion with my mom, I turned back to him, squeezing his hand gently.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly, trying not to disturb the quiet calm that had settled over us.
Jon nodded slightly, wincing as he shifted on the hospital bed. His face was bruised and bandaged, a stark reminder of the attack that had taken place.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling guilty for what had happened under my roof.
"It's not your fault, Harley," Jon replied hoarsely. "You didn't see anything."
I shook my head, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. "But I should have. I should have been able to protect you."
Jon reached out and brushed away a stray tear from my cheek. "You did everything you could. You were there for me when it mattered most."
I felt a lump form in my throat as I thought about how close I had come to losing him. If we hadn't heard that noise upstairs and gone to investigate... if I hadn't found him bleeding on the floor...
"I don't know what I would do without you," I admitted quietly, feeling vulnerable in a way that only Jon could make me feel.
He smiled weakly at me, his eyes filled with gratitude and something more intimate than friendship. "You'll never have to find out because I'll always be here for you."
The sterile hospital room felt suffocating as I sat by Jon's side, watching him struggle to eat the bland hospital food. His normally vibrant blue eyes were dull with pain and frustration.
"I hate feeling so helpless," he muttered, pushing away the tray of untouched food.
I nodded in understanding. "I know you do. But you're strong, Jon. You'll get better before you know it."
A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he glanced at me fondly. "Thank you for being here with me."
I reached into my satchel and pulled out a container filled with brownies. It was a small gesture but one that seemed to bring some light into Jon's weary eyes.
"You didn't think I'd let them feed you hospital food without something better to eat, did you?" I teased playfully.
Jon's eyes lit up at the sight of the brownies as he eagerly took one from me and savored its rich chocolatey goodness.
"Thank Jesus," he joked before correcting himself with a grateful look in his eyes. "I mean thank you Harley."
"You can thank Jesus any time. But he didn't make you those brownies," I joked.
Suddenly, the door creaked open and my mother entered quietly.
focus turned to me, or more specifically my pocket.
I glanced down to see the pendant peeking out.
"Where did you get that?" She pointed.
I pulled it out, examining the intricate spirals that made up the golden heart, which was bejeweled with a large emerald shaped heart and surrounding rubie
"I found it in my room when they were putting Jon on the stretcher," I told her. "Why?"
"No reason," she spoke, refusing to meet my eye. Something she only did when she was lying or hiding something.
Growing up, she dubbed me a human lie detector. For the most part, I somehow almost always knew when someone was lying.
"Where did you get that?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
I hesitated for a moment before answering casually, "I found it in my room. Thought it was a gift. Why?"
"No reason," she spoke, refusing to meet my eye. Something she only did when she was lying or hiding something.
Her reaction was strange; she seemed taken aback but quickly masked it with a forced smile. It was then that I realized there was more to this locket than met the eye.
Growing up with my mother taught me how to read between the lines, how to detect lies hidden beneath smiles and words.
She even dubbed me a human lie detector. For the most part, I somehow almost always knew when someone was lying.
And in that moment, as she avoided my gaze, I knew there was a secret she wasn't willing to share.
A knock on the door prevented any further questioning.
"Hello?" It was the nurse from earlier. A young, petite Asian woman with pin straight black hair and brown eyes. "I am here to check Mr. Reeves' vitals."
I remained in my seat as she made her way around the other side of his bed, looking over his monitor.
"Everything seems to be okay," she said after checking his vitals. "Will one of you help me sit him up so I can check his head?"
I rose from my seat, each of us grabbing one arm and slowly helping Jon rise back into a sitting position. Just as he was getting comfortable again too. I placed a pillow behind his back for support.
Gently, she removed the bandage from the back of his head before carefully patting his hair to check on the stitches they'd had to give him.
"The stitches look good too. The bleeding has thankfully stopped. But you still must be careful not to do too much that might agitate it and cause it to start bleeding again."
Jon nodded.
"I'll make sure of it," my mother announced.
"Oh. Mrs. Reeves. I didn't see you there." The young woman jumped, clutching a hand to her chest.
Right before she had entered, my mom had tucked herself in the corner, submerging herself in the darkness that half of the room provided, in an attempt to avoid the inevitable questions I was bound to ask.
I moved to correct her, but my mom held up a hand, stopping me in my tracks.
"Is there anything else I need to know?"
"We want to keep him overnight but after that he should be free and clear to return home. Though I suggest staying home from school for a day or two. We don't want him under too much stress. "
"Understood," my mother nodded.
"I will be back in a few hours to check on him again. If you need anything," she pointed to a bright red button connected the cart monitoring Jon's heart rate and blood pressure. "Click this and I will come as quickly as I can."
We all nodded.
"Alright. Just try to relax and I'll be back soon."
We watched as her figure grew smaller, walking down the hall to make her rounds with other patients.
"You heard the woman. Relax." My mom rejoined us at his bedside. "Which means you may have to work on your little project alone for a few days Harley."
Jon moved to protest, but was immediately silence by a stern look and raised hand from my mom.
He sighed. "Okay." He turned to me. "If you're sure you can handle it."
"I'm plenty sure Jon. I wouldn't lie to you, especially about something as little as this. All that matters to me is that you get better."
We both let wide smiles grace our faces before I leant down, kissing his forehead after seeing him yawn.
"Get some rest. I'll still be here when you wake up. I promise." I grabbed his hand, in an effort to show my intentions.
He gave me one last smile before drifting off into unconsciousness.
I watched as his chest rose and fell, his face still holding the remnants of the smile he'd given before falling asleep.
My mother's voice broke through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. "Your father and I always wondered when and how you two would end up together, you know?" she said softly.
I glanced at her, seeing a mixture of nostalgia and warmth in her eyes as she spoke about my dad. Memories of him flooded back - his quiet strength, his unwavering love for us. He had passed away years ago, leaving behind a void that could never be filled.
"We're not together."
She chuckled. "You two remind me of your father and I. We met when he moved here in the second grade. He was the cutest thing. Fiery red locks, freckles dotted across his nose and the most amazing green eyes."
I watched as her eyes grew distant, instinctively grabbing at the necklace my dad had given her on the last anniversary they spent together.
"He was timid at first. Sat by himself and didn't really talk."
"Wasn't he still?" I asked.
My dad always was a quiet man. He mostly spoke only when he found necessary.
When I asked him why, he simply said, "I find peace in the silence. A rare thing that seems very hard to come by these days. You only learn to appreciate the silence when it is hard to come by, like many other things in life."
He never liked going places where he knew there would be large crowds and lots of noises, but he stuck it out on occasion to bring me, and sometimes Jon, out.
To the mall, the fair when it came to town, the park, the movies, anywhere.
"He didn't speak the entire first week he arrived," she reminisced. "But then I walked up to him and introduced myself."
Hi. I'm Avril Marsden. You're Harry, right?"
The boy looked at her outstretched hand before timidly shaking it and nodding.
"Do you want to sit with me? I'm sure we'll be great friends. "
Looking over at the area she had once resided, he weighed his options before finally nodding.
"Great."
With that, the young girl grabbed his hand and led him over to the desk beside hers.
"This is Elena." She pointed to a young, petite brunette with light green eyes.
The three couldn't possibly have known, but in that moment, the seed of a decade long friendship was planted.
"That day we all learned so much about one another. It took him a while to open up, but he finally began talking to us. Looking back, I'm glad he did. That adorable Scottish accent of his might have been what did it for me. Mmm. I always loved listening to him talk. I could listen to him forever. I'm glad he never lost it."
The mention of Elena, my mother's best friend who had mysteriously disappeared many years ago, cast a shadow over our conversation.
"Why don't you talk about Elena?" I prodded gently, hoping to unravel the enigma shrouding their friendship.
My mother's demeanor shifted instantly, her eyes hardening as she shut down any further discussion on the matter. It was clear that Elena's disappearance still haunted her, leaving wounds too painful to revisit.
With a heavy sigh, she rose from her seat and promised to return soon with my laptop so I could work while keeping vigil over Jon. As she left the room, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease and unanswered questions.
Alone once more with Jon's sleeping form, I pondered on the intertwined threads of fate that bound us all together - past and present colliding in unexpected ways. The hospital room felt suffused with emotions left unspoken but deeply felt - love mingled with fear, hope entwined with despair.
And as I gazed upon Jon's peaceful face bathed in moonlight streaming through the window, a resolve hardened within me. Whatever secrets lay hidden in our shared history would be unraveled one way or another - for Jon's sake, for Elena's memory, for all those whose lives were touched by unseen forces beyond our control.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, pulling me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a young man standing in the doorway. His eyes darted around nervously before he spoke.
"Are you Harley Masterson?" he asked hesitantly.
I nodded slowly, wondering who this stranger could be and what he wanted with me.
He handed me a black envelope sealed with a red wax seal shaped like a rose. My heart raced as I took it from him and watched as he disappeared down the hallway before I could even thank him.
Curiosity getting the better of me, I tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. As I read through its contents, my blood ran cold and a chill swept over me.
My beautiful angel,
Words cannot express the passion, love, and affection that course through my veins every time I lay my eyes upon you. Your presence ignites a fire within me, a flame so intense that it consumes every ounce of my being. You are the embodiment of perfection, with your fiery red hair mirroring the tempestuous nature of your soul, and the radiance of your spirit shining like an undying flame waiting to be unleashed.
I am truly sorry for what happened to your friend. He ventured too close, threatening to expose the depths of my love for you. It was an act of protection, my dear, a necessary sacrifice to ensure that nothing and no one could come between us. I couldn't let him see me, for he would have surely called the police, and they, in their ignorance, would have tried to tear us apart. But they will never understand the boundless connection that exists between us.
In those stolen glances and fleeting moments, I can see that you feel the same way. Our souls entwined, silently speaking a language only the two of us are privy to. It is in those moments that I know I am not alone in this love, this all-consuming desire that spans across time. And so, I am willing to wait, for I have waited this long for you.
Our love is like a budding flower, delicate and yet so resilient. It needs time to bloom, to grow into something truly extraordinary. I am patient, my angel, for I know that our love will only flourish with time. And when the moment finally comes, when we can be together without fear or restraint, my heart will soar like never before.
I dream of a future with you, my love. A future filled with unbreakable bonds, everlasting devotion, and the joy of creating a beautiful family together. We will grow old, side by side, our love defying the passage of time and growing stronger with each passing day. It is a future I long for, a future that feels within reach.
Until that day comes, my angel, know that I am yours. Know that my love for you knows no bounds, and that I will always be by your side, even in the shadows. Together, we will conquer the world, proving that love transcends all obstacles and defies societal expectations.
With all the love in my heart,
Your Future
I sat there, clutching the unsettling letter in my trembling hands, my mind racing with a mix of fear and confusion. The words on the paper seemed to taunt me, sending chills down my spine as I tried to make sense of it all.
Who was this person who claimed to love me so obsessively? How did they know so much about me? And most importantly, what were they capable of doing next?
The words on the letter echoed in my mind - "Our love will only flourish with time." It was absurd. I didn't even know who this person was, let alone have any feelings for them.
But what if they were watching us right now? What if they were waiting for the perfect moment to strike again?
As I pondered what to do next, a noise outside the door made me jump. My heart pounded in my chest as I peered into the hallway, expecting to see the mysterious stranger lurking in the shadows.
But there was nothing. Just an empty corridor bathed in flickering fluorescent light.
The letter hinted at a dangerous individual who had harmed Jon and now set their sights on me. Panic began to claw its way up my throat as I struggled to keep calm.
I glanced over at Jon, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. He was defenseless, unaware of the danger looming around us. I couldn't let him get hurt again because of me.
The room felt suffocatingly small as I tried to make sense of it all. Who was this person? How did they know so much about me? And most importantly, how could I protect myself and Jon from whatever threat was coming our way?
My hands trembled as I clutched the letter tightly in my grasp, willing myself to stay composed. But fear gnawed at me relentlessly, threatening to consume every ounce of courage I had left.
Just then, a wave of dizziness washed over me, followed by a sharp pain in my chest. My breathing quickened as panic seized hold of me with an iron grip. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to fight off the encroaching darkness.
With trembling hands, I carefully folded up the letter and tucked it away into my pocket, and made my way back to Jon's bedside.
I grabbed his hand and focused on his breathing, trying to regulate my own.
In, out. In, out. In, out.
As I sat there in silence, waiting for my mom's return and praying that nothing else would happen during her absence, one thing became clear - whoever this person was sending those letters meant business.
And if they thought they could scare or manipulate me with their twisted declarations of love...they were sorely mistaken.
Because no matter how dark things may seem right now, one thing was certain - Harley Masterson didn't scare easily. And she certainly wasn't going down without a fight against whoever dared threaten her.