Chapter 77

Vincent Blackwood towered over the frail girl, his drunken breath reeking of cheap whiskey as he stared at Harrison with predatory eyes.

The cabin walls seemed to shrink around her. Vincent would lurk by the doorway, watching. Always watching. His bloodshot eyes followed her every move with sickening hunger.

As Harrison grew older, the danger intensified. Vincent's leering gaze traced her developing curves with increasing boldness. One evening, he yanked her onto his lap, his body radiating heat and the cloying sweetness of rum. She froze as his calloused hands slid up her thighs.

Nightmares became reality. She learned to lock the bathroom door completely, yet still felt his presence. Through the crack, she'd see his dilated pupils gleaming with perverse excitement.

Then came the worst night. Vincent brought home two equally drunk companions. "Why don't you remarry, Vince?" they slurred between laughs.

Vincent's chuckle sent ice through her veins. "Got myself a bride right here. Just needs more... ripening."

Their eyes lit up with sudden interest. "Damn, you lucky bastard!"

Trembling, Harrison fled into the night. Her numb fingers dialed Victoria's number at a payphone. When the line connected, her tears fell like shattered glass. "Mom! Please—"

Isabella's smug voice cut through. "Who is this? My mother only has one daughter!" Then Victoria's cooing voice: "Darling Isabella, your pearl tiara's ready! All your friends are waiting for your ballet performance."

It was Isabella's birthday.

Harrison's hope died. She hung up and wandered deeper into the woods, where she found Nathaniel bleeding beneath the pines.

"I'll take you away," he promised feverishly. "I want you." They clung to each other for warmth, but by dawn, Nathaniel was burning up, muttering about water.

She foraged desperately for medicinal herbs. When she returned, the cave stood empty. She waited for days, clinging to his promise.

Vincent found her first.

The slap sent her sprawling. "My property doesn't run!" he snarled, pinning her down. Fabric tore as his whiskey-sour breath hit her face. "Time to learn your place—"

Her fingers closed around the sharpened branch she'd hidden. With a scream, she drove it into his eye.

The courtroom echoed with Vincent's howls as the judge sentenced him. Ten years.

Harrison exhaled, pulling herself from the memory. They say childhood wounds never fully heal. For years, she'd been stitching herself back together.

Working tirelessly. Fighting to free that terrified girl from the past's shadows.