Goodnight Jarvis

The Prologue Part One

     I guess I should start from the beginning. It's a lot to understand but bear with me. Here it goes. My name is Harper Morrison--well not Morrison, not anymore... Let me try again. My name is Harper Stark and this is how I got here. It all started when I was 15.......
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3rd Person P.O.V.

     Just another day, Harper thought to herself as she walked down the comfortingly quiet street. Hardly any cars passing by made the only consistent sound coming from her footsteps beneath her. She just got out of school and was making her way to the run-down motel she was staying at with her mother. It wasn't much-- definitely not something she'd consider home-- but it was better than being homeless again. Just the thought caused a shiver to run down her spine, the horribly painful memories returning just briefly. Even if the motel was infested with just about every insect and arachnid you can think about, it was still warm during the winter. Especially for a place like Minnesota. Besides, there was at least a color TV.
        She smiled lightly, shaking her head at the thought. Yes, she could wish for a bigger TV with more than just 50 channels, or a functioning heater that didn't smell like dead possum every time you turned it on, or even a kitchen, but she was grateful for what she had. It was a lot more than what she had six months ago. Though a smartphone would be nice. So much nicer than a beaten up blackberry.
       Harper once again shook her head, clearing her mind of those thoughts as she approached the motel. Slowing her steps, she took the key in her pocket, preparing to open the door. Her hands felt the bone-chilling cold of the Minnesota winter. She stopped a few feet from the door, waiting to hear some indicator of life coming from the inside of the room. There was silence. That meant that her mother was either asleep or passed out from another day of heavy drinking. Harper sighs, another week's pay spent on alcohol. Another time the rent will be overdue. Another late shift she had to work at the diner. Another lecture her mother would receive. Just another day.
       Harper took a step closer to the door. Had her mother at least locked the door? She turns the knob, hoping it stops turning. It doesn't. Great. They'd been over this. Repeatedly. She can't get better if she keeps turning to alcohol every time things get rough, she thought. Harper breathes in, preparing everything she's going to say to her. Turning the knob all the way, she pushes the door open. The room reeked of alcohol and old sweat. Home Sweet Home. She walks in the small motel room, eyes fixed on the old, horribly stained carpet. Walking deeper into the room, she closed the door and look at the full-sized beds. One of them was unmade and had a few empty bottles of her mother's favorite beer. A sign of her. 

               Harper continues to look around the room. Clothes scattered around the floor, numerous papers sitting on the table on the furthers side of the room. It was dark, save for the light coming from the open bathroom door. There she is. Putting her bag down on her bed, Harper made her way to the bathroom door. "Mom, I'm home." No response. She took a few steps closer. "Mom!" Nothing. Harper sighs, walking closer. She stops at the door frame. Her mother sits in the tub, a bottle of beer still in her hanging hand. Still dressed, her mother sits in the full tub. Her face is covered by her hair, head tilted to face away from the door. "Mom! Wake up!" No reaction. "Mom, you're not supposed to sleep in the tub." Nothing. 

            Harper gets to the foot of the tub. She kicks the beer out of her mother's hand. Still, she receives no reaction. "Mom!" Harper leans down to look at her, hand slowly moving her hair out of her face. She's pale. Her skin is cold. She doesn't move. "Mom?" Nothing. Harper takes her mother's hand, checking her pulse on her wrist. Nothing. Panicking, she lowers her head to her mother's chest, praying to hear the sound of her heartbeat.