Chapter Seventy One - Do You Need A Lawyer?

Aura and Jackson walked out of the school gates, their footsteps slow, the heaviness of the past few days hanging like a cloud over them. Aura's eyes were red-rimmed, and her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the strap of her backpack. Jackson was quieter than usual, his gaze sharp but unreadable.

Summer break was just around the corner.

From across the street, Camille emerged, her approach casual and unhurried. She gave a small, tired smile as she stepped closer, like this was nothing unusual.

"Hey, you two." she said softly, her voice almost too calm. "I thought I'd bump into you eventually."

Aura's heart fluttered with a flicker of relief. "Camille. Hi."

Jackson kept his arms crossed, watching her carefully. 

Camille shrugged lightly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, as if the weight of everything was distant to her. "Just wanted to check on you both. See how you're holding up with... you know, all the investigation stuff."

Aura took a breath, her voice fragile but earnest. "It's been so hard. The questions, the suspicion. It feels like we're all caught in a trap." Her eyes dropped. "Especially since... I found a gun under Harper's bed." She swallowed hard, guilt twisting in her stomach. "I hate that I even thought Harper could be capable of something like that. She's my sister... but now, I'm not sure what to think anymore."

Camille's expression softened, but her voice remained almost dispassionate. "Yeah, I heard."

Aura glanced at Jackson, then back to Camille, searching her face for something—hope, reassurance. 

Camille gave a small, almost tired shrug. "Couldn't have been Harper though, Harper wasn't even at the house that night."

Jackson's eyes flickered with surprise. "How do you know?"

Camille said, folding her arms loosely. "She was with me."

Aura blinked, a sense of disbelief mingling with relief flooding her chest. "With you? Why didn't anyone tell us?"

Camille smiled faintly, like she was sharing a secret that should have been obvious all along. "I found her wandering near my place, scared and lost. Took her back to my house. She stayed there overnight."

Aura's breath hitched, and despite the confusion swirling in her mind, she found herself wanting to believe Camille's calm certainty. "I guess... that makes sense. Maybe Harper just needed a safe place."

Jackson's gaze narrowed, but he said nothing. He didn't want to stir up conflict—not yet.

Aura nodded slowly, warmth returning to her eyes. "Thank you for looking after her." The guilt lingered quietly beneath her words. She hated doubting Harper, and now maybe Harper wasn't the one they feared she was.

Camille's smile deepened, but there was something unreadable in her eyes. "I just wanted to protect her. And protect all of you."

Jackson's voice was low, cautious. "If you knew where Harper was, why keep it from us? Why not say anything before now? Why haven't you told the police?"

Camille's expression flickered, as if weighing how much to reveal. "Sometimes protecting someone means keeping secrets. Not everything is meant for the police."

Aura's lips pressed together, but she didn't argue. In her heart, she wanted to trust Camille. She wanted to believe that Camille had Harper's best interests at heart.

Jackson looked at Camille for a long moment, suspicion lingering in his eyes, but he said nothing. Not yet.

Aura reached out hesitantly and gave Camille's arm a gentle squeeze. "We need each other. I'm glad you're here."

Camille's eyes softened, but behind that softness, a shadow of something deeper flickered.

Jackson's jaw tightened. The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken questions and doubts.

Aura looked between them both, hope and fear tangled inside her. She wanted to believe in Camille's words.

Jackson wasn't so sure.

But for now, he held back.

Because some truths were still too dangerous to face.

The visiting room at Warren Mental Hospital was stark, sterile—a claustrophobic box of white walls and flickering fluorescent lights that hummed overhead like a cold, constant reminder of everything Harper had lost. The thin metal table between them felt like a chasm, the harsh institutional smell filling every corner. Camille sat rigidly on the plastic chair, hands folded tightly in her lap, watching Harper with eyes sharp and unyielding.

Harper sat across from her, shoulders slumped, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. The faint tremor in her hands betrayed the quiet storm raging inside her. She looked like she'd been drained of everything, like a fragile shell struggling to hold together.

Camille's voice broke the silence—soft but edged with steel. "I told Aura and Jackson you were with me that night."

The words hung heavy in the air, loaded with unspoken consequences. Camille's lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze unwavering as she let the weight of the lie settle between them. "I lied for you, Harper."

Harper's head jerked up, eyes wide and wary, like a deer caught in a snare. "Why?" she whispered, voice cracked, barely audible. "Why would you lie to them?"

Camille's shoulders eased just slightly, the fierce protectiveness in her eyes flickering beneath a veil of quiet pain. "Because you're my second family. And right now, you need someone who has your back. Your siblings are starting to spiral and question you." She leaned forward, voice dropping almost to a whisper, but every word sharp as a knife. 

"But I need you to be honest with me, Harp. Aura said she found a gun under your bed, a fucking gun."

Harper swallowed, the lump in her throat like a stone. Her gaze flickered away, tracing invisible patterns on the chipped linoleum floor.

"I'm just... so tired, Camille. Mentally exhausted. Emotionally drained." Her voice was raw, fragile, laced with despair. "I just want out. I want to be normal again. To forget all of this." Her fingers twisted nervously at the edge of her sleeve. "I don't want to talk about that night. I want the nightmare to end."

Camille's jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration and sorrow crossing her face. Her voice softened but stayed firm. "I'd do anything for you, Harper. You know that, right?"

Harper nodded faintly, eyes glistening with tears she refused to shed.

"Same." she spoke almost in a whisper.

"I'm going to go to the police.." Camille said, her voice steady but urgent. "I'm going to tell them you were with me that night. But you need to tell me the truth first."

Her eyes locked onto Harper's, searching, demanding. "Where were you, really? And why the hell did you have a gun under your bed?"

Harper's breath caught, a cold tremor running through her body. Her hands clenched into fists, knuckles white. She looked down at them like they belonged to a stranger.

Camille's eyes narrowed, the warmth fading, replaced by a hard edge sharpened by worry and fear. She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a fierce whisper that reverberated with quiet menace.

"Harper, please.. talk to me." she said slowly, each word deliberate, "did you kill your Grandma?"

The room seemed to contract, the air thick with the weight of the question. Harper's eyes flickered upward, searching Camille's face for a flicker of judgment, of mercy, or perhaps an escape.

Camille's expression softened, but her voice held a new intensity—a mix of care and a desperate demand for truth.

"Do you need a lawyer?"

Harper's breath hitched sharply, the silence stretching taut between them like a fragile thread ready to snap. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, her whole body trembling as the storm inside threatened to break free.

The question lingered, unanswered, casting a shadow over them both—an unspoken battle between fear, guilt, and the desperate hope for redemption.