Harkham's Case (Harkam's #1)

by Chanse Lowell

  There were two male voices behind her. Somebody patted her back, but she was too far gone.

  Right there—in the crib. She never saw it, but she heard how awful it was. That little sweet angel Mari destroyed.

  Tears poured out of her eyes, and a high-pitched, whiny sound came rushing out of her chest. She clutched at her heart—it was so filled with needles and pain.

  Make it stop! Make it go away!

  Every filthy word she always tried unsuccessfully to keep tucked inside when Adam was around her spewed out of her mouth between her indecipherable wails and her vomiting. Her vile words were thicker and hotter than the grotesque contents exiting her body.

  When it stopped, she stayed where she was. It would never go away. She would always be stuck, imagining what that dead child looked like because of what she did. Her hands clawed at the dirt. She grabbed handfuls of slime-covered rocks and chucked them as she screamed herself hoarse. The louder she was, the easier it was to forget she was uglier and more pathetic than her bile on the ground.

  Somebody scooped her up.

  “No, I’m gonna carry her. Only I can touch her!” Adam barked at somebody.

  “Adam . . . ?” she whimpered.

  “The numbers can’t have you—you’re with me,” he said.

  Her clouded eyesight cleared, and he smiled at her as he carried her over to her Jeep.

  “She looks pretty awful. Maybe she’s badly dehydrated?” Zach said.

  “Take me home,” she mewled.

  “I’ll drive,” Zach said.

  “I can handle it. Go home.” Adam’s arms tightened around her.

  “I’ll follow you. Otherwise you won’t have a way to get home,” Zach replied.

  Mari was placed in her Jeep on the passenger’s side.

  “Take her phone. I want to make her happy, so I’m gonna give her some of my remixes.” Adam patted her hair.

  “That always makes my day,” Zach said, gave Adam a hug and turned to get in his own car.

  “I’ll make it all better. You’ll see,” Adam told Mari and shut the door.

  Somehow, she believed him.

  Chapter 11

  Adam glanced over every few seconds at Mari as he drove her Jeep to her home.

  She was shaking. Maybe it was shivers from being cold? A few times after working out, if the fans were directed on him, he’d tremble after.

  “You’re shaking. Are you cold?” he asked her.

  She shook her head, but barely.

  “I’m gonna stay with you, okay?”

  “You c-can’t. You’ll get in trouble,” she said, her teeth chattering a little.

  “Are you seeing numbers?” he asked, ignoring her last statement. Zach could make something up for him—find a way to explain his absence at dinner.

  “Really bad ones. Dead eyes, baby eyes,” she mumbled.

  “You’re having nightmares while you’re awake?”

  She curled into a tight ball on the seat and tucked her head against her knees.

  He put on some soothing music for her.

  When they got to her home, he rummaged through her bag and found her keys. He jumped out of the Jeep, unlocked her front door and left it open. His heart hammered as he raced back to get her.

  She was a little chilly to the touch when he picked her up and carried her inside. He found her room, set her down on her bed, pulled her socks and shoes off, then laid her down.

  “I’m gonna find you a blanket,” he told her in a clear tone.

  “’Kay.”

  He went into the hallway, found a few soft blankets in a closet and grabbed the biggest one he could find.

  “Should I find your mom?” he asked her when he covered her up.

  “You can see if she’s here, but she’s probably gone,” Mari said with a yawn.

  She turned on her side and tucked her hands up under her chin.

  “You should probably drink something,” he suggested.

  “I’ve got some homemade sports drink in the fridge. Can you get it?”

  He nodded and was out of the room and at her fridge in no time.

  It was in the door of the fridge. He noticed a six pack of tiny sodas while he was in there. The cans were half the size of the normal ones. Why were these here?

  Mari never drank soda. It seemed like she was allergic to sugar or something. How sad. He only ever saw her eating fresh fruits and vegetables all the time. Maybe it was her mom’s?

  He grabbed the drink and a soda, just in case he was wrong and headed back to her.

  Her eyes were glazed over, and they were watery. She was on her back now with her hands gripping the covers at her chest.

  “I killed her. I can’t ever take that back,” she said with a dead, tinny voice. She closed her eyes slowly and tears were pushed out by the weight of her eyelids.

  “Drink this.” He sat next to her, slid her into his lap and opened the bottle. He tipped it to her lips and smiled as she took a few sips.

  “I never meant to. You’ve got to believe me. It was an accident. I was a . . . I was a . . .”

  “Shhh . . . It’s okay. You can tell me later.” He fed her another mouthful.

  She gulped it down. “I was babysitting. Just a goddamn babysitter!” Her whole body turned in his lap, and she fisted his moist shirt as she sobbed into his chest. “You should hate me. I’m repulsive.”

  “I’ll never hate you. I can’t. It’s not in the numbers.” He rocked her, stroked her head and kept kissing her every few seconds.

  When she stopped crying, he rolled her under the covers of her bed. He stayed on top of them since she didn’t invite him in like she had with the sleeping bag.

  She hiccuped and stared, unseeing, at his chest. He placed an arm around her and caressed her back while he would place a velvet, medicine kiss on her face every time she jostled from a hiccup.

  “I hate hiccups, but the good news is, they make your diaphragm tighter. That muscle needs exercise, too.” He smiled and kissed her nose.

  “You have a way of seeing something good in even the small, hideous things.” She shook with what looked like a silent chuckle. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, Mari—my best friend.” He tucked her up into his chest, held his arm tight around her, listened for her breathing and felt her heartbeat. “I’ll always help you like you help me.”

  Her lower lip stuck out a little and quivered. “I really wanna smoke.” Her eyes were heavy.

  “Not right now.” His dad had been telling him how bad cigarettes were for Mari. He wasn’t quite ready to talk to her about it yet.

  “Can you give me my teddy bear?” Her hand pointed with a shaking finger at a stuffed animal set in a chair over in the corner.

  “Sure.”

  He popped up and gave it to her. She slipped it under her arm.

  “This was for her. I bought it to put in her casket, but then they didn’t want me at the funeral or the burial.” Her eyes closed again, but this time they didn’t open back up.

  A few minutes later, she was asleep.

  Adam lay there, staring at her for several more minutes and finally left.

  Mari was beautiful. She was hurt inside. And he wanted to find a way to stop that.

  Teddy bears were good, but they didn’t solve problems. Only people did that.

  And he wanted to be the one to help her through the ones that made her so sad.

  * * *

  Mari woke up hyperventilating. Those dead eyes bore into her soul. That baby—its soul demanded retribution.

  Her dream was so disgusting with how real it felt. Chills still covered her arms like they had in her dreams as she watched that baby eat Mari’s father alive. He was so heavy now he couldn’t move from his chair—trapped by his own morbid obesity.

  And Mari . . . She was trapped by her own fear, her own dread.

  She flung herself out of her bed and searched for her phone.

  “Where is it?” she cried.

&
nbsp; She needed it. How would she know what her calorie count was today if she didn’t have it?

  She found her laptop and vaguely remembered speaking to Adam about what kind of music she listened to while working out. Did he take it after that?

  Why would he do that?

  She emailed Samara, something they’d been doing more lately since Adam seemed to be able to find tricky ways to get a hold of his sister’s phone and check her text messages.

  There were a few panicked emails from Samara in Mari’s inbox.

  Oh no!

  Mari shoved her laptop aside. She did that?

  Her fists tightened as she picked it back up.

  Apparently, Mari had thrown up in the parking lot, freaked out like an absolute lunatic and Adam had taken her home. That was all Samara knew, and she was worried Mari was in some kind of shock, and maybe at the hospital now?

  She replied to the most hysterical-sounding one, made up some lame lie and asked if Adam took her phone.

  A few minutes later, after Mari had run to take a quick shower, there was a message waiting.

  Yes. Adam had her phone.

  But why?

  She sighed, creating a new spreadsheet real quick on Excel.

  “Why do I even try?”

  She stared at the screen. Fifteen hundred calories today. How was that possible? She was trying so hard to keep it below twelve hundred. She subtracted the calories she burned at the gym according to the elliptical and treadmill, then with a quick movement, sat up straight and gasped.

  Adam had her phone!

  Oh God! He was going to see her obsessive charts she had on her weight gain and losses, her daily eating habits, calorie counting and pictures of herself when she weighed two hundred and ten pounds two years ago!

  She flopped back on the bed and slung an arm over her eyes.

  Did this really matter? Her being fat and ugly was one thing, but him finding out what a monster she was inside would be much worse.

  She already kind of hinted several times about how hideous a person she was, but he never seemed to care.

  What was she going to do?

  Scare him away—for his own good.

  Time to separate with the boyfriend she never had.

  Only this time undoubtedly was going to hurt a lot worse than all the others had.

  * * *

  Mari stepped into her first class she had with Adam, and Samara was standing behind Mari’s chair where she usually sat. Adam was missing.

  Samara was glaring at her.

  As soon as Mari was to her seat . . .

  Smaaaaack!

  Mari toppled over a little and braced herself on the table. That little elf knew how to slap someone hard! Mari’s cheek stung and pulsed like it was scratched.

  “You bitch! You gave him soda? Do you know what we had to deal with last night?” Samara howled.

  “No,” Mari answered and glanced up from her bent-over position.

  “He took my phone. He doused it in some crazy concoction he made himself and burned it to a crisp!”

  Mari smiled and shook her head. Only Adam would use his own mixture. If this wasn’t so sad, because it most definitely was her own fault, she’d be laughing hysterically. He was a crazy badass in his own way.

  “You think this is funny?”

  The study hall center, that had been empty with the exception of Samara when Mari arrived, now held a few students, gawking at them.

  “Not a bit.” Mari stood up and rubbed her cheek. It was definitely skinned. “Listen—you need to keep him away from me outside of school. I can be his hand-holding buddy here, but other than that—”

  “And how am I supposed to do that? He obsesses over you. You’re all he ever talks about. Each night at dinner, we have to listen to a recounting of every little thing you did that day.”

  “I’m sorry about that . . . I’ll try to be civil but distant with him from now on.” Mari pulled her chair back, and it made an awful screeching sound on the tile.

  “It’s too late for that. You think he’s gonna stop now? He already told me he’s put some kind of tracking device on your Jeep.”

  “He what?” Mari all but hollered.

  Samara pulled out Mari’s phone and handed it to her.

  “He made you several new remixes based on the songs you already had on your playlists. Not that you deserve it,” Samara said with a huff as she plunked it down on the table.

  “So where is he today?”

  “Home. He’s sick as a dog. Have you ever had sugar after months of avoiding it?” Samara’s jaw snapped shut after she ended her sentence.

  But Adam had encountered sugar recently. He had a soda at the football game, and he had two donuts in Flagstaff. This shouldn’t have made him sick. She swallowed and answered, “Yeah, as a matter of fact I have. It sucks. I’ve had sugar-shakes bad—but it wasn’t as hard as going through rehab and—”

  Samara’s eyes went wide, and she held up a hand. “That’s enough! I don’t wanna know how hard your pitiful life is. You’ve hurt my brother on purpose. You knew he wasn’t supposed to have any sugar. He’s an emotional wreck right now. He’s crying one minute, raging the next and then begging for you on the following breath. It’s a nightmare. I had a headache this morning from all his screaming for you.”

  Mari sat down and folded her hands on the desk. “I hope he feels better soon,” she said quietly with her gaze straight ahead on the wall.

  “Go ta hell,” Samara said with a nasally sound to it. She swept Mari’s phone off the desk with her arm. It went flying across the back of the room and hit the floorboards.

  Mari cranked her head over her shoulder and angled it up at her. “I’m already there. But glad to know I’m where you want me.”

  “Stay away from him!”

  “I’m trying,” Mari answered and went back to pretending like she was a model student—forward facing, hands folded on the table and keeping silent.

  Once Samara was gone, Rory scrambled out of his chair, ran over and retrieved her phone for her.

  “Thanks,” Mari said, her voice low and unpleasant.

  He sat on the corner of her table and settled her cell in her lap, grazing her thigh with his pinky finger.

  “You’re welcome. Anything for you,” he purred.

  She looked up at him without moving an inch, and through her taut mouth she said, “Not happening. It’s in the past. Get over it.”

  “Once more, and I’ll get you what you really want.” He stroked a finger down her cheek, his eyebrows dancing on his forehead. “All I want in return is fifteen minutes—you, me, boys’ bathroom, and you do what I want with that mouth and those hands I love.”

  He pulled out a tiny bag from a pocket in his jeans with his other hand and dangled the white powder in front of his chest where nobody else could see but her.

  “Then you obviously have no idea what I want—’cause that’s not it.” She ground her teeth together and shoved his grubby finger off her cheek. “And if you don’t get off my desk and out of my face, I’m gonna make sure that powder is shoved in every orifice of your body until it burns the message into your head.”

  He slid it back in his pocket, rolled his eyes and slunk away.

  Tara was glowering at her.

  Usually Rory was Kendra’s boy toy, not Tara’s. But what did Mari know—other than he was a prick, sharing Study Hall and Calculus with Mari. Other than that, she tried to keep far, far away from his business and his girls he frequented. The less involvement she had with him the better.

  “He hates you,” Tara mouthed at Mari. “Sooooo much.” She grinned.

  Mari ignored it. What else was new? Who else hated her?

  She took out her math notes and tried to study, doodled every now and then when her brain was being uncooperative, and kept wondering how much she’d hurt Adam. Every second she missed him more, and every second she vowed to keep away.

  Please recover soon . . .

  * * *<
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  Adam paced from room to room, bored out of his head.

  He was in big trouble.

  Sam told on him.

  He hid a smile. Burning her phone was fun.

  Almost as fun as being with Mari.

  She deserved it. He’d read the texts she sent to Mari while he was at her home in her bed with her—taking care of her when she was ill.

  The worst one was when Sam told her in a text if she ever tried to have sex with Adam she’d stab her eyes out with a pencil and then cut her heart out with a pair of scissors.

  It was brief, but he screamed at Sam. He cried after that and begged to see Mari so he could check if she was okay.

  Nobody listened.

  Dad was furious there had been a fire in the bathtub. He sided with Sam—his dad usually did.

  His punishment was to miss school today.

  Oh yeah . . . Sam also found the empty soda can hidden in his laundry basket. Why she had been digging through his dirty clothes he’d never understand. Especially when he had his sweaty, stinky gym clothes lying on the top.

  She blamed it all on the sugar.

  Adam had begged so hard he’d started shaking.

  Samara found a way to turn it into proof of a reaction to the sugar. It wasn’t!

  He’d eaten those two donuts from Mari and was fine.

  Not to mention, he sometimes snuck at school and bought a candy bar from the vending machines when he was alone. It was rare, but he was finding excuses to not hold hands between classes so he could do that.

  Adam had written down Mari’s phone number before destroying his sister’s cell.

  He called her every twenty minutes even though he knew she was in school right now.

  Was she okay? Did she have bad dreams?

  Would she listen to his songs he made for her so she could cheer up?

  “Give it a rest,” Zach called from the couch as he played on the Wii. “We’ll say we’re going to work out tonight and go see her.”

  “That’s lying.” Adam’s gut tightened a little worse.

  “I don’t care. They’re being douches. You love her, she loves you—end of story. I’m getting you over there to see her. And I’ll push her mom down and step over her if I have to so you can get inside,” Zach said.