Stealing Harper(105)

“Eleven years?!” I hissed, and made myself lean back against the wall so I wouldn’t go after him. “This has been going on for eleven fucking years and you didn’t tell anyone? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She made me promise I wouldn’t! She was terrified they would take her away.”

“Did you not see that? Her entire back was black and blue!”

Tyler hung his head again. “That’s not the worst it’s ever been. She’d come over with concussions; a few times I made her agree to stitches. Swear to God, that girl is tougher than most men I know, because without any pain medication she’d let Dad sew her up right there in the kitchen. Then there were times she couldn’t even get off the floor. When she was young, sometimes she’d lie there for hours before she could move; when we got older and got her a phone, she’d have to text me and I’d come get her.”

I tried to swallow the throw-up that was rising in my throat. “It got that bad and you never said a word. What would you have done if they killed her one of those times, Ty?”

A sob came from where he sat hunched in on himself. “I hate myself for letting her go through that. But every time I tried to confront them, she’d flip out and make me leave, and when I would, that night or the next day would be one of those days where they’d beat her so hard she wouldn’t be able to pick herself up.”

“That isn’t an excuse, you could have taken her away from them. Uncle Jim could have done something!”

“Look, Gage, you can’t make me feel any worse than I already do! I’m the one who had to clean the blood off her, I’m the one who had to bandage her up even during the dozens of times when she should have gotten stitches. I had to buy a mini freezer for my room so I could have ice for when she came over!” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and stifled another sob as he handed it over to me.

“What is this?” Whatever these fresh bruises were, they definitely weren’t done by hands. The small rectangles looked familiar, but I couldn’t place what I thought they were.

“Golf club. I didn’t even know about this last time. She just told me about it on the way back here, and I took the pictures before I came in here. She said it happened yesterday morning before I came and packed her bags.”

“Are there more pictures?”

He raised his head for a second to nod. “Ever since I got my first phone I’ve taken pictures every time she came over, and I always transfer them to my new phones so I’ll have them. They’re all backed up too. She wouldn’t let me say anything, but I wanted to have photos in case . . .” His voice trailed off. There wasn’t a need for him to finish that sentence anyway; I got the message.

Flipping through some of his pictures, I couldn’t believe this was the same sweet Cassi I’d just met a few hours ago. Bruises of all shapes, sizes, and colors covered her body and it was killing me to look at them, but I couldn’t stop. You could see all the ones that were fading slowly get covered up by new ones, and other pictures showed her back, arms, and face covered in blood. What killed me was that whenever her face was in the picture, she wore the same expression I’d just seen outside. No emotion, dead eyes, and absolutely no tears.

“What would they do to her?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Like hell I didn’t. I was already planning on going to California with my twelve-gauge. “What. Would. They. Do?”

He was quiet for so long I didn’t think he was going to answer. “When it first started, it was usually just hitting and kicking. The older she got, the more it turned into whatever they had in their hands or could grab quickly. Once that started, she only came over if it was other objects. She lived for the days when it was only hands.”

“So what I saw tonight, you said it isn’t the worst?”

“Not even close.”

“What was?”

Tyler sighed and looked up at me, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t know, there were a few that really stood out, but I couldn’t name one that was the worst.”

I just kept glaring at him; he needed a beatin’ just for letting this go on for so long. She was seventeen or eighteen now, so she had been six or seven when this all started. And he’d known the entire time.

“A couple years ago, the cops showed up one night—”

“I thought you said she wouldn’t let you call?”

“I didn’t.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair a few times. “The old lady that lived in between us heard her screaming one night, called the cops.”