Big Bad Wolf Chapter 55: No Words

Harper sighed and looked around.

Her treehouse had seemed so big for her back then, enough space for her to run around. She would pretend bandits were running after her, and she was this mysterious and street-smart princess who didn’t need any prince to come and rescue her. She was all on her own in this world she had created, but she was happy and contented as a child.

Every now and then, her mom or dad would join in her adventure. Her mom would dress her and sometimes borrowed a wig from her friends at the salon to complete Harper’s outfit. She remembered her mom would hike her dress over her ankles to keep her from tripping over. She remembered how she recited poems in front of her parents and how her mom would kiss her dad’s cheek, then cheer for her.

Her parents’ relationship was the sweetest thing in her life back then.

And now, lying on the floor in the treehouse that was dimly lit by the lamp on an old wooden chest, she missed those times more than ever.

She felt her eyes brimming with tears once again. But no matter how much tears she had already shed, the pain didn’t relieve, yet instead, grew. She desperately tried to calm herself down so she could think, but it was no use, and for the rest of the day and early evening, all she did was sobbed quietly on her own.

She looked down at her hands and then watched as her tears dropped, one by one.

The pain was just too much. She did not know how much longer she could take it.

How was she going to go on with her life with that incessant pain in her heart?

She sniffed and wiped her tear-filled eyes.

She sat up and pulled her knees up, resting her hands on them as her head fell back onto the wooden wall behind her. She unintentionally banged her head against the wall and thought that the little pain it gave her was nothing compared to the massive ache in her heart.

She knew she still needed to speak to her father about what happened.

But what did really happen? What was her mother’s last thought before she died? Was she in so much pain before life was taken out of her?

Harper was so absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't hear someone was coming up the ladder until the door opened.

She looked up and saw her dad stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. Before moving to sit across from her, he gave her an apologetic look and then leaned against the opposite wall.

“Honey…” Mr. Fritz sighed. “Your grandma made pasta.”

“I’m not hungry,” was Harper's immediate reply.

“You haven’t eaten anything since you got here,” her dad reminded her, frowning a little.

Her cheeks heated up, and she scoffed. “Do you really expect me to have an appetite after walking in on Mom’s wake? Really, Dad?”

“Harper, look, I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to―”

“How did she die?” she cut in.

“I think you should have something to eat first and take some rest.”

“No, Dad, it’s best that we deal with this now. Tell me, how did Mom die? What exactly happened?”

Mr. Fritz looked at her for a moment then let out a deep and long sigh. “It was horrible, Honey. The police investigating her case―”

“Wait! What?”

“They said she must have suffered before she died.”

“How?”

“The…the stab wounds…in the neck…” Mr. Fritz muttered, voice wavering.

Harper’s heart sank. The words instantly crippled and tore her inside. She cried her eyes out, and her body started to shake. “Why?” She begged for answers, but while the investigation was ongoing, her dad couldn’t provide her with anything.

Her entire being shook as she cried harder and harder.

As he listened to his daughter let out another sharp cry of torment, Mr. Fritz reached for her and tightly wrapped his arms around Harper.

“I should have been there. I shouldn’t have left her all alone,” he cried, desperately wishing he could turn back the time.

Both he and Harper seemed helplessly in so much pain.

“Mom!” Harper bawled,

“Please forgive me, honey. Please….” Loud sobs emitted from her dad’s throat.

They continued to cry on the floor for minutes on end, gravely wanting this nightmare to stop. But they both knew it wouldn’t.

“I should have come sooner. I should have really come…” A shuddering breath left Harper’s lips as more tears streamed down from her swollen eyes.

She and her dad knew that nothing they would ever say would make all the pain go away quickly. If anything, it only made the pain more unbearable.

Mr. Fritz hadn't really cried at all that first day. He held conversations long enough and answered people’s questions without breaking into tears. But now, with Harper’s presence, he felt as though his daughter had opened an enormous crack in him, and his emotions soon flowed mercilessly. Everything he held inside was all coming out and it hit him real hard.

Their cries were loud and heartbreaking, and for a full few minutes, it filled the room.

After quite some time, when both of them were able to hold a conversation, Harper pulled away from her father’s tight embrace, sniffing.

“What did the police say?” she grumbled, scowling at the wooden floor next to her dad.

“They said that the stab wounds and how she was found in the laundry area strongly suggest foul play.”

Harper swallowed hard. “Stab wounds? How―” she paused and took a breath. “How? And who found her?”

“She told me last week that you two spoke and that she’s already told you…”

“That you left home.”

“Harper, had I known―”

“I know, Dad. I’m sorry. I’m just…”

Her dad nodded. “It’s okay. I understand.”

“What happened next?”

“We spoke, and we decided it would be best if we come to you. She said she would call you and ask you to meet us. She would call me as soon as she’d had spoken to you. I waited, and when I grew impatient, I called her. You know, just to check if you two have talked. I called her again and again. Her phone rang. But nothing. And then I waited for her to call me back. She didn’t. It was odd. Your mother would always return anyone’s call.”

Harper briefly smiled. That was true. Her mom thought it was just impolite not to return a missed call.

“And…that’s when I decided to come over. I thought you were finally home, and your mom changed her mind and wanted to speak to you first. So I came and―the door wasn’t locked and the house was empty when I arrived. I looked for her and found her―” Mr. Fritz choked on a sob.

“Dad…”

“She was already dead. Stiff. Tied in a chair. Her blood was everywhere.”

“Dad, you don’t have to…” The painful thought of what her mom went through had caused Harper’s tears to swell up in her eyes again.

“The image doesn’t go away, Harper. It haunts me in my sleep, even when I’m awake.” Her dad cried into her shoulders, and she held him into her arms.

Harper could only imagine what her dad was going through right now. She wanted to be angry at him for leaving her mom, but she was all he got now, and she knew that the sorrow, guilt, and nightmare were just too excruciatingly painful and unbearable for her dad.

And the fact that it was her mom and dad’s mutual agreement to live separately, she couldn’t unreasonably be upset with him. Most importantly, she knew she had to forgive him.

After a couple of hours of talking and trying to console and offer each other support, Harper had finally agreed to go home with her dad. She didn’t have to talk to anyone just yet, but her dad insisted it would bring him peace if she’d stay inside the house, knowing that the person responsible for her mom’s gruesome and merciless murderer was still out there.

“I’ll prepare some soup for you, if it helps,” her dad had suggested.

The walk back to the house was cold, and Harper briefly wished she had her thick hooded jacket with her―and the rest of her stuff in her hatchback, really. And for the first time, she wondered where her car could be right now and the rest of her things.

*And Alex?*

She shivered at a flashback of his beastly image.

“Are you okay, honey?” Her dad noticed.

She nodded. “Just really tired, I guess.”

As soon as they arrived home, Harper immediately went up to her room, ignoring her grandmother and the rest of the people who were still in the living room.

When she was finally upstairs, she took a deep breath before reluctantly entering her old room. She looked around and thought that, aside from the boxes that were piled in a corner, everything looked the same: her bed with her favorite bedsheet and all the plushies her dad won for her back then playing a carnival game during Black Hallow’s Annual Fair; her wooden desk; her giraffe desk lamp; books and even her dream board.

Nothing really had changed at all. And despite her current situation, she let a smile grace her lips.

She began to walk towards a wooden drawer and looked at the old pictures of her and her mom and dad, friends in high school, and even college ones. Her fingers traced over a photo of her and her parents, then her eyes started to well up when she watched how happy her parents looked. She was about to suppress another sob when she noticed one of her and her college friends' framed pictures. The photo was taken during their internship, and standing in a far corner, she noticed, was Lucas.

She gasped. It had been quite some time since she had thought about him.

In the picture, one of the managers looked like she was trying to talk to Lucas. But Lucas, on the other hand, was looking at something else in the front. Or, rather, someone else.

*Could he be looking at her?*

Harper’s heart quickened. Then, a thought suddenly crossed her mind―how her life had changed since she last spoke with him and since she agreed to help him with Alex.

She sighed. A tiny bit part of her blamed Lucas for everything. Had he not asked her to stay with Alex, perhaps she wouldn’t be in this messed up situation. And maybe her mother would still be alive.

*No.* She shook her head. She couldn’t let herself be mad at anyone but the person who murdered her mother. There was no one to blame but whoever that person was. No one else must pay for the pain inflicted on her and her dad but the murderer. She understood that she shouldn’t let anguish blind her.

Looking outside, Harper saw that it started to rain again. She sat on her bed, and reached for one of the plushies, and hugged a giant giraffe. And as she hatefully thought about the person who took her mom’s life, she tightened the hug on her stuffed toy.

Feeling a surge of pain again, she lay down on her bed, facing the ceiling, and letting go of her stuffed toy.

An hour later, she was restless, lying sprawled across her bed. She tossed and turned for half an hour before she finally got comfortable enough to fall asleep past midnight. But as soon as she drifted off to sleep, she was interrupted by a knock on her window.

She abruptly sat up in her bed. Her heart hammered in her ribcage as soon as her eyes landed on those familiar electric blue eyes.

“Alex,” she breathed out.