Highest Rank #61 in Fanfiction! Juliette McGill finds the perfect position as a nanny for a young boy with special needs. Only when she arrives at the family's home in British Columbia, she discovers that the boy is not quite what she expected and t...
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Days became nights and nights became days and Harry's bed became my new home. I laid there most of the time either sleeping, hurting, or occasionally brainstorming for ways to escape, although I wasn't confident I could think of anything that would actually work. I took painkillers as needed. I was already most of the way through my second refill although I didn't need them as often anymore. I had also finished the antibiotics and my shoulder seemed to be starting to heal, finally. But I didn't even care. If I had enough strength, I got up to pee and maybe ate a piece of bread or some cheese if I found any that wasn't moldy. What was the use of taking care of myself if Theodore was just going to kill me anyway? There was no way out and he had clearly lied about bring Harry back here.
So I just gave up hope.
Until late one afternoon, I roused from sleep at the sound of something unusual. It sounded like someone was in the bathroom next to Harry's room.
Taking a shower.
"What the hell?" I wondered, trying to shake the fog of sleep from my brain. I took a drink of water as I sat up, and then two more painkillers because my shoulder was a bit achy. I highly doubted that Theodore or Benjamin would be showering in Harry's bathroom but why was the water running?
I got out of bed and grabbed the bat that was still where Theodore had left it many days before. I crept silently into the bathroom and gasped at what I saw.
Harry.
I threw the bat back onto the carpet of the bedroom floor and I stepped over to the glass shower door. He hadn't noticed me yet.
"Harry," I said weakly. He turned around with a start and awkwardly tried to shield his nakedness from me. I opened the door, not caring that he was mildly embarrassed or I was still clothed in a t-shirt and yoga pants. I walked into the shower and burst into tears. "You're back." He nodded timidly and I threw my arms around his chest, choking and sobbing and sputtering. I felt his arms slowly begin to squeeze around me, tightening like a boa constrictor until I could hardly breathe but I didn't dare let go.
As I wept in his arms, I noticed that he wasn't expressing the same emotion. I pulled back, looking up into his face. Expressionless, he just stared at me through hollow eyes. He had a black eye that looked to be in the last stages of healing, turning yellow and green. An ugly gash on his eyebrow was healing into a lightning shaped scar. Glancing down, I noticed his body held evidence of abuse, deep, ugly bruises across his ribs and hips.
"Harry," I choked. "What happened to you?"
He gave me a slight shake of his head as if he either didn't understand the question or he just didn't want to talk about it.
"What happened?" I demanded more strongly. "Why did he do this?"
Again, an apathetic shrug was all he could muster.
