Chapter Sixty Four - Walls Of Silence

Harper sat on the edge of the narrow hospital bed, the thin blanket wrapped loosely around her legs like a fragile shield against the starkness of the room. The pale morning light crept cautiously through the barred window, casting long, cold shadows over the sterile white walls of Warren. The faint murmur of distant voices, the rhythmic beep of a monitor, and the occasional distant footsteps echoed in the background—a dull, constant reminder that life continued outside these walls, but for her, it was paused, frozen in a fragile limbo.

It hadn't been an easy decision—admitting she couldn't cope—but after the chaos that had engulfed her life since returning from camp, the silence and safety here felt like the only refuge. Home was no longer a sanctuary. The weight of grief over Cece's murder, the fracturing of her family, and the suffocating media spotlight had crushed the walls she'd built to protect herself. Camp had been meant to help her, but instead it shattered her—dragging up memories she wasn't ready to face and leaving her feeling more lost than ever.

The door creaked open softly, pulling Harper's attention from the shadows gathering in the corners of the room. Josie stepped inside, her familiar warm smile tinged with cautious concern. The quiet strength in her eyes was a fragile comfort in a world that felt so cold.

"Hey, you." Josie said softly, pulling a chair close to Harper's bed.

"Hi.." Harper whispered back, her voice barely more than a breath.

Josie hesitated a moment, then reached out to gently brush a stray curly lock of hair from Harper's forehead. "How are you holding up? After camp... after everything?"

Harper swallowed hard, her throat tight. She glanced down at her trembling hands before meeting Josie's gaze. "It was... a lot. The things I saw, the things they made us do—things I can't forget. There was this one night, I couldn't sleep at all. I kept hearing voices, memories of the worst moments replaying like a broken record."

Josie's eyes softened. "That sounds terrifying."

Harper nodded, biting her lip. "It was. And I felt so alone, even when surrounded by people. Everyone else seemed fine, or like they were pretending to be. But inside, I was falling apart. When I came back, I thought things might get better. But... it didn't."

Josie reached out and squeezed Harper's hand gently. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that. It's okay to feel like you're struggling. You're not alone, Harper."

Harper blinked back tears. "I thought I could handle it on my own. But I couldn't. The nightmares, the flashbacks—they followed me home. And then everything with my grandmother too... the way she died, all the secrets... It's just crushed me."

Josie nodded slowly. "You're incredibly brave for getting help. You've taken a huge step."

Harper let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "I just want to feel safe. To feel like I'm not drowning in all this."

Josie gave a small, sad smile. "I want to be there for you, Harper. I really do. But with all the media attention, the drama around your family... it's too much. For both of us."

Harper's heart twisted painfully. "So... what does that mean? Are you... stepping away?"

Josie's eyes glistened. "I love you, Harper. I always will. But right now, I need to take a step back. For my own sanity, and yours. I can't be tangled up in a storm that could hurt us both."

Harper shook her head, disbelief and hurt flooding her. "I thought... now that she's gone, maybe this could be our fresh start."

Josie's voice cracked as she leaned closer, her forehead resting gently against Harper's. "That would be beautiful. But things won't be the same—not while this storm is raging. You need space to heal, and so do I."

Josie's words hung in the air between them like a fragile glass ready to shatter.

Harper's chest tightened, breath catching. She stared at Josie— her first girl love—who was now telling her she was stepping back, to give space, just when Harper had thought they might finally have a chance.

"Do you know what I went through?" Harper's voice cracked suddenly, sharp and bitter. "I went through hell and back—so we could be together. I pushed myself to the edge, lost control, risked everything for us. And now you're just... stepping away?"

Josie blinked, startled by the sudden shift.

Harper's hands trembled, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. "I'm here. In this place. Alone. Because I wasn't safe anywhere else. And you think that means... what? That I'm some project you can put on pause when things get messy?"

Her voice rose, echoing off the sterile walls.

Josie took a cautious step back, eyes wide but steady. "Harper, please, I—"

"No!" Harper snapped, voice cracking with tears she refused to shed. "You don't get to say that! You don't know how hard it's been. You don't know the nights I spent shaking, screaming inside my own head. The panic that crushed me every time I closed my eyes! I'm fighting just to breathe, Josie."

She suddenly pushed off the bed, pacing in restless bursts, her words tumbling out faster and faster.

"I thought if I could survive camp, survive all of it—maybe then I'd deserve you. But now you're telling me it's not enough? That I'm too much?"

Her breathing hitched, wild and uneven, heart pounding as the energy inside her surged uncontrollably. The light in her eyes flickered between fire and despair.

Josie reached out slowly, voice soft but firm. "Harper, I'm not giving up on you. But I'm scared too. This isn't easy for me either."

Harper's gaze snapped to Josie, fierce and desperate. "Scared?! I'm terrified every second of every day! But I'm still here. Still fighting! And I thought you'd be right beside me. Not walking away."

Her voice broke, tears spilling free as she sank back onto the bed, head in her hands.

Josie knelt beside her, gentle and steady. "I love you, Harper. But right now, we both need to heal—separately."