Behind The Glasses

Chapter 17:

"Don't do awkward small talk with me Harp, honestly - we've known each other too long. Why are you really here?"

"Hunter got really angry" I reply, keeping my bruised eye shaded under my hood, my bound arm wrapped firmly in my sleeved jacket. 

"Seriously, you still call him that?" Chris cried, "Jesus christ." - Chris had never been happy with the family calling Michael multiple names for his multiple personalities. He believed that as long as we called him Michael, his memory would be constantly jogged, and that soon he would resurface for good. But as time went by, and Michael still failed to resurface, people began to give up hope. People stopped calling him by his real name, reffering two him now as his two selves. 

"Have you called him?"

"Not yet" 

"Why don't you call him then, you should get the best reception in the kitchen" Chris added bitterly, his face now guarded, on the mention of my brother's name. "I don't have a phone, he won't let me" I reply. "My parents won't argue with him - not that they're ever home". 

"They're still working abroad all the time, leaving you alone with him?" Chris cried, outraged. 

"They believe I make him better". Silence. "Can I use your phone then please?" - Chris indicated to the house phone, stacked up on the kitchen counter; he then left the flat quietly, closing the door behind him. 

I starred at the phone, steeling myself to do it; whilst it glarred back at me. Perhaps after I had slept.

Ryker:

I knew things hadn't been great for Harper recently, but I didn't realise how bad it had gotten until she had the panic attack in school. I hadn't been in her class, but it was obviously the talk of the school by next period. 

Harper had officially become a freak. 

I would check on her after school. Amya and Xander didn't seem to be worried - Amya explained that it was perfectly normal for girls their age to have panic attacks, sometimes for no reason at all; but I wasn't convinced. 

I went to the house alone after school. I felt as though I was seeing it for the first time, now that I had a glimpse into Harper's life. 

Through the gate with the paint peeling off, along the path and the maintained lawn, with a few flower beds and hedges. The front on the house was getting grubby - no one taking the time to look after it anymore. It looked as though the windows hadn't been cleaned for years. 

I knock on the front door, trying to hide the fact that I was quaking to my boots. Honestly, Hunter terrified me. After I had tried the door a third time, I merely pushed on the door. It had swung open willingly. 

There most awful screaming errupted from inside the house, everything in my body screamed to run away, but I walk in instead. If Hunter's beating Harp again, I swear I will kill him - someone needs to stand up to him. 

But the screaming isn't coming from Harper, as I had expected, but from Hunter. He was cowered in the corner, screaming at the top of his lungs, a pillow clenched over his head. The lounge had been completely destroyed: the sofa's had been torn apart by god knows what; all the photos had been ripped from the walls, and now lay, smashed upon the floor. The set of dining chairs were disembodied upon the floor, the table turned upon it's side.

I see Hunter and the destroyed room. Where is Harper?

She would break much easier than a chair?