Counterpoint (Hystoria #3)

1. Chapter One

Chapter One

My phone starts ringing just as I exit the police station. The name showing on the display threatens to overwhelm my emotions, and I gulp past the lump forming in my throat. “Hey, Grandma.”

“Hey, Love.” The sound of her concerned voice makes my eyes sting with tears. I am so damn close to breaking into a sobbing mess. “Is everything alright? I’m sorry I missed your call.”

No. My world has been shaken to the core tonight. Nothing is remotely close to being okay. I take a deep breath that turns into a sob and come to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. People scurry around me, muttering their dissatisfaction at me halting in their way. I’m standing right in front of a bakery, feeling curious glances from their patrons through the large window on my skin. That’s not really helping .

It’s barely nine in the morning, and the bakery is filled with people grabbing their coffee and pastries for their day. The sun is shining, and it’s a pleasant late-summer day—a day like any other.

But not for me. Mine is anything but that. I’ve spent the night in the hospital and then at the police station. Exhaustion seeps through my bones, and I feel like someone’s packed me in bubble wrap. Everything seems distant; only muffled sounds reach my ears; even the throbbing pain in my face is numb, and I feel like I’m looking through some kind of blurry pane. I’m not in control, fully functioning on autopilot with hazy movements and shaky breaths.

“I’m not,” I admit, and close my eyes for a moment while I gather myself. Knowing Grandma would scold me if she ever found out I lied. I clear my throat and take a deep breath before I answer. “I’ve broken up with Tom.”

There it is. It’s been the topic of my whole night, yet it’s only now starting to feel real. But oh boy, now that it does, the weight of this tiny little sentence hits me like a truck driving at full speed.

“Thank God you did.” The sheer relief in her voice nearly makes me burst into tears.

“Yeah,” I answer, my voice only just above a whisper. I clear my throat. “Thank God, I did.” I take a deep breath and then continue to walk, my eyes fixated on the dirty asphalt at my feet, trying to dodge people as well as possible, but all energy is slowly draining from me. All I want to do right now is curl up on my bed and ignore reality.

I’m still wearing the dress I picked out for Jake’s album release party. And the high heels I bought specifically for the occasion just three days ago. I felt so sexy and beautiful in them yesterday; now they feel like fire ants crawling over my skin and leaving stinging traces. I can’t wait to take them off.

Who could have known so much would change in the span of three days? One moment, you have a lovely fiancé who makes you feel like you’re his world, and then the next moment, you’re obtaining a restraining order against him.

“You’re starting to worry me, love. What happened?” she asks. Her voice almost sounds muffled, my focus on taking step after step without losing my balance or hyperventilating.

Only three more blocks until I reach my apartment. Three more blocks until at least a locked door separates me from the outside world. I gulp.

“It didn’t end very amicably,” I manage to confess, wincing as I catch a glimpse of my reflection out of the corner of my eye. No, Harper. You can continue to worry later. Keep your eyes straight ahead. You’ve almost made it home.

“Harper Elizabeth Shaw! Must I extract every single detail from you? Spit it out already!”

“You know I don’t have a middle name, right?” I know she’s frustrated with me, but I just need to get home. Need to feel safe.

“Of course, I know, Harper.” I can practically see her rolling her eyes. “I was there when you were born and watched your mother fill out your birth certificate.” She clicks her tongue. “But it sounds more convincing when I scold you.”

I turn a corner, my heart racing. Only one more block until I’m home .

A panicked breath escapes me when I nearly collide with a man wearing a suit. I offer him an apologetic glance before hurrying away when I notice the man’s eyes widen in surprise as he sees my face.

Shit. Just how bad is it?

“I’m sorry, Grandma. I’ll explain everything in a second.”

Finally! I jam my key into the house door and hastily shut it behind me. My footsteps reverberate against the stark hallway walls as I hurry up the stairs. No elevator; I can’t bear the thought of being enclosed in a small space right now. It’s only three flights.

Naturally, I’m out of breath when I burst out of the stairwell. Just a few more steps to go. You’re almost there, Harper.

I shove my key into my apartment lock with trembling fingers, making me miss the keyhole. My gaze darts around anxiously. I try again, but it takes two more attempts until I can finally turn the key. One of my eyes is swollen shut, so I need to move my whole head to check. But the hallway is empty. There is no one in sight, only closed doors, the flickering light, and the booming sound of my heart beating way too quickly in my chest.

Then I look again, double-checking that nobody is in the hallway before I pull my door open. Still empty. Thank God. I slip through the tiniest crack in my door, immediately pulling the door closed. As soon as I hear the click of the door falling into place, I put my key into it and lock it. Then I secure the deadbolt.

Finally, I lean my back against the door, my eyes dancing around with suspicion. I thought once I was home, the paranoia would calm down, but I need to make sure. Slowly, I make my way through all the rooms, making sure nobody is there. But I see no one, and everything is exactly as I left it. Thank God. A relieved sigh escapes me, and I roll my tense shoulders.

“... What’s going on, sweetheart? You’re scaring me a little.”

I snap back to reality. I completely forgot that I’m still holding the phone to my ear.

“Sorry. I’m home now,” I answer with a thick voice. I kick my high heels aside and let out a sigh of relief as my bare and sore feet touch the cold floor. “Tom attacked me last night. I spent the night at the hospital and the police station.”

A shocked gasp escapes her. “That worthless scoundrel! I knew he was a piece of work, but I never imagined he’d stoop so low as to lay a hand on you,” she says, her voice brimming with anger.

“Grandma, please, try to stay calm. I really don’t want you having a heart attack because of him.”

“If I do, I’ll come back to haunt him. He won’t know a moment’s peace in his wretched life,” she hisses through gritted teeth.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I still kind of need you,” I admit, a sad laughter falling from my lips. “Who else is going to talk sense into me?”

I make my way to the bathroom, my face throbbing as though it might burst out of my skin now that the painkillers are wearing off. The nurses and cops made sure to keep me away from all kinds of mirrors, which is a very kind gesture, but I’ve reached the point where I need to see it. I need to assess the damage myself. It still feels like I’m trapped in a nightmare. Maybe seeing the damage he caused will make it feel more real.

“That’s a valid point, honey,” she says, a worried sigh escaping her. “We can’t exactly trust your brother with that. ‘Sense’ is not exactly his forte.” I hear her shuffle on the other end of the line, and I know she’s pacing her living room the way she always does when she’s agitated. More often than not, she’ll stub her toe on the coffee table doing so, which only adds to her frustration. I hope the poor piece of furniture will be spared today. “Now, tell me what happened.”

I turn on the light in the bathroom and freeze, so shocked I almost let my phone fall on the ground when I see my face in the mirror. There is no way any makeup is going to be able to cover any of the damage. Not even the best concealer. My cheek and eye are swollen to the point I can barely see my pupil, which is no surprise considering all I see when I shut my non-swollen eye is black.

Right now, my cheek is only a slight red shade, but I know it’s going to turn a gruesome tone of purple soon enough. The split in my lip has been treated with the kind of band-aids that pull the skin together, as has a cut on my forehead. Dried drops of blood are scattered across my face, and my dress reveals more bruises beginning to form. Good thing none of my bones are broken, at least.

“I was at Jake’s album release party last night,” I gulp, my voice trembling as I speak. “I arrived before Tom because he was stuck at work.” The mention of his name leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I swallow past it and continue. “At least that’s what I thought. He must have seen me greet Jake with a hug or kiss on the cheek or whatever he made up in his head. I truly don’t know, and I didn’t even notice it bugged him. He acted normally the whole night. Then, just as we reached my apartment, he confronted me about it. He went on this tirade about how I don’t respect him, how I’m a whore for letting other men touch me.” I pause to take a shaky breath. “I told him how ridiculous that is, I mean, Jake is my damn brother. But he didn’t like that I contradicted him and became physical.”

“He had his fist raised before I even realised what was going on and knocked me down. I’ll spare you the gruesome details; I just spent the whole night going over them again and again at the hospital and police station. I screamed for help, and luckily, my neighbors were still awake. One of them rushed out and pulled him off me, and another one called 911. At one point, I think both of them had to sit on Tom just to keep him restrained.”

“Please tell me they have cameras in your building.” She sounds more serious than I have ever heard her.

“Yes,” I confirm. “There are cameras in the hallway. A few years ago, parcels went missing, so everyone got on the building office’s nerves until they installed them,” I tell her, wincing when I softly graze my bruised cheek with my fingertips. “And I have one of those doorbell cameras, so there is footage. I’ve already shown it to the police officers and sent them a copy.”

“Okay, that’s good. Great thinking, honey. That can’t have been easy.” I hear a thud, and she curses under her breath. That poor coffee table. “What did the doctors have to say?”

“They literally said they were weak punches,” I say, managing a chuckle despite the pain in my ribs and face. “So it’s mostly bruising. I can manage with regular painkillers; no need for the heavy stuff, so that’s good. They were concerned about my ribs, so one of my nurses, Julia, went the extra mile and had them x-ray me. She was an absolute sweetheart; I doubt they’d have made the effort otherwise. They seemed very eager to get me out of there. As for my ribs, there is not much to be done, so I’ll have to be careful not to laugh or cough too much because that’s painful,” I explain and take a cautious breath, finally tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “I have a scratch in my mouth though, and that bled like a -” Quickly, Harper, think of a word that’s not ‘motherfucker’. Okay, I got it. “-Bitch.” Yes. That’s so much better. I’d facepalm, but that would probably also hurt like a bitch. “Sorry for cursing, Grandma. I haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours.”

“I will give you a pass for today. Keep talking,” she answers. Oh boy. She sounds angry. The kind of anger that makes her voice incredibly calm. The kind of anger where she will hit you with the ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’, knowing fully well it’s going to make you feel guilty as hell. I’m just glad it’s not directed at me.

I walk over to my kitchen and take a bag of frozen vegetables out of the freezer, wrapping it in a towel before gently applying it to my face. Who knew that the paprika I’ve had in there for half a year would prove useful after all?

“Well, the police came, obviously,” I explain. “They were surprisingly quick. I think it took them ten minutes to arrive. The EMTs came only a few moments later. They patched me up and brought me to the hospital. A very nice police officer came along and asked me in the hospital if I could already tell them what happened or if I preferred to do it later. Which is fine,” I add before she can even protest. I’ve already heard her angry inhale to prepare for a tirade. Still holding the frozen paprika to my face, I sit down on my couch. “I had to wait for a few hours because my injuries weren’t as urgent, so they took my report in the waiting room. Then, they requested that I come to the police station to provide a formal statement and answer some open questions they had. So I went there as soon as I got discharged. They still need to interview my neighbors formally but said they would already start the paperwork for a restraining order, which hopefully will be processed later today.”

“Okay, and then?”

“And then you called,” I respond with a nonchalant shrug, though I wince in pain. It’s probably time for another painkiller. “And I walked home. Where I’m now sitting on my couch, still wearing my lovely evening gown, talking to you, cooling my face with frozen paprika, and wallowing in self-pity.” What a way to end… or, rather, start my day considering what time it is.

“Oh, love,” she says empathetically, a sigh accompanying the words. Suddenly, I feel twelve years old, wanting Grandma to fix everything and hide under my blanket in my room. “Would you like me to get a flight? I can be there this evening.”

“Thank you, but no,” I respond softly and take a shaky breath. Because I am not that twelve-year-old anymore. I need to handle my own life. “For now, I need some alone time to cope. I’ll probably have to quit my job and untangle all of those logistics.” Because the cherry on top of this shitshow is the fact that Tom is my boss, not my immediate boss, but the boss of my boss’s boss. He’s very high up in the corporate chain, while I’m merely one of many graphic designers. I know I’m very replaceable to them; meanwhile, he is besties with the CEO. As in, met-in-college-and-play-golf-together-every-weekend-ten-years-later besties. And I need to look at this realistically, as sad as that sounds and looks for me. If the company has to pick one of us, it’s him.

The first time I met Tom was at a company event. We hit it off instantly. He possessed a charm that made me feel like the only woman in the world. He placed some goddamn rose-colored glasses on my face and love-bombed me to the point I couldn’t see all his red flags anymore, with thoughtful gifts, flowers, and sweet words.

And oh boy, that man was a walking flagpole, red fabric blowing in the wind. At first, I thought his possessiveness was endearing. However, all that ‘she’s mine’ and ‘touch her and I’ll break your arm’ was only charming for so long.

Growing up with parents who weren’t ever really around, I basked in the attention he gave me, and yes, I’m aware those are issues I need to work on. It was kind of cute when we went out to bars together, but not so much when it spilled over into the workplace. Male coworkers seemed to mysteriously get shuffled to different assignments or relocated to the far side of the office. Promotions were handed out to them instead of me, and they were replaced by female colleagues. Don’t get me started on the talking to from Tom I had to sit through whenever I greeted our janitor, Jack, and took a second to ask how his family was doing after his wife had their second child.

Once I stepped into the workplace, Tom always had his eyes on me. I’ve been wanting to end things with him for some time, but I needed to secure another job first. But the search is not going well, which is the only reason I found myself saying ‘yes’ when he asked me to marry him.

That, and the fact that a ton of people were watching us. He took me to some upscale restaurant for our anniversary, which I was already not happy about. I mean, I love the food there, but I hate the uptight atmosphere and how long you need to wait for said food. The ring was placed on top of my dessert, and he made a big show of taking it and getting down on one knee. Meanwhile, all I wanted was to eat my damn lava cake and get out of there.

Of course, all eyes in the restaurant were on us. I just couldn’t find it in my heart to say ‘no’ and embarrass him in front of all of these people. Looking back, I should have just done it, especially after the weird speech he gave, which was basically about him and not us as a couple or why he’d like to spend the rest of his life with me. No, it was all ‘I’ve always known that I deserve the best,’ and ‘marrying me is such an honor for you,’ and apparently, that was supposed to make me feel as though I’d like to spend the rest of my life with him.

After being together for two years, one might assume that Tom knew that I hate being the center of attention. It only solidified what I thought: this relationship was never about me to begin with. I was merely an accessory on his arm, charming enough to navigate his upper-class social circles and make a good impression on the company’s shareholders or whoever all those people were he introduced me to.

This is another reason why there was, and is, no doubt in my mind that my job is tied to my relationship with Tom. I mean, if they kept me, how would that even work with a restraining order? Am I going to have to work from home once it’s in effect? I shake my head. No, they hate it when people work from home. They are definitely going to fire me.

“My guest room is always open for you.” Grandma’s words gently pull me back from my spiraling thoughts.

I sigh, considering her offer. “I might take you up on that. Without a job, there isn’t much keeping me tied to the city. It’s not like I have a lot of friends here. ”

“You have your brother in the city,” she reminds me. I want to grimace, but my face barely moves. Yes, my brother, the rock star. Who only recently started to launch his solo career after his band announced a break, and who definitely doesn’t have better things to do than hang out with me, because I can’t manage to talk to other women and make friends. With his solo album releasing next week and his new girlfriend, Layla, he definitely won’t have anything better to do than worry about his younger sister, who can’t manage to adult on her own.

“Jake is far too busy to hang out with me all the time,” I tell her and turn the frozen bag on my face around to its cold side.

“That’s not true,” she scolds me. “You should have called him. I’m sure he would’ve had three security guards with you within the hour. They would probably have been quicker than the police, now that I’m thinking of it.”

I gulp. “What makes you think I need security guards?”

“Honey, I heard the way you rushed to your door. Don’t try to fool me. You’re scared, and understandably so.” She lets out a heavy sigh. “You should really call your brother and ask him to stay with you until they approve the restraining order.”

I bite my thumbnail, wincing when it grazes the cut on my lip.

“Harper Elizabeth-”

“Okay,” I relent. “I’ll call him, I promise.”

“Good.”

“But I won’t tell him what happened. He’d freak out and do something dumb. I’ll only ask him to lend me one of his security guys.”

“I’d feel better if you told him. You know he’d look out for you,” she urges .

Yes, I know. And that’s precisely the problem. I love Jake, really, with all my heart. He’s the best brother a girl could wish for, but when he gets overprotective, he becomes incredibly annoying. If I told him about Tom, he’d probably move me into a random, way too expensive apartment with security measures that would make the White House look like a senior community and leave five guards at my door. I wouldn’t even be able to go out and buy my groceries without his entourage following me.

Or, if he’s free, he’d attach himself to me like a tick on a dog. Speaking of dogs, maybe now that he has a girlfriend, he will redirect his overprotectiveness there.

“I’ll see where the conversation goes, alright?” I can hear her frustrated sigh on the other end of the line. “Promise me you won’t tell him before I can.”

She doesn’t answer. All I hear are her heavy breaths. “Promise me, Grandma.”

“I promise I won’t tell him what happened,” she reluctantly agrees, sounding about as unhappy as I feel right now. “And you promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I promise I’ll do my best.” I nod and hiss when my ribs strain.

“Call me tomorrow,” she insists, and after assuring her that I will, we say our goodbyes. After she hangs up, I let out a frustrated groan as I let my phone tumble onto the couch cushion beside me.

I need a shower. Like, really badly. And something else to cool my throbbing face because the paprika is getting warm and mushy. A pained whimper escapes me when I sit up to stand up from the couch. Holy shit. Even the slightest movement is excruciating .

Dragging myself to the bathroom, my first order of business is to open the medicine cabinet and search for painkillers. Thank God I have a long-forgotten pack of Ibuprofen lying around. Damn it, I need to go out tomorrow to buy some new ones. I take the second last one out of the packaging and swallow it dry because I honestly can’t be bothered to go back to the kitchen just for a glass of water, and tap water in the bathroom tastes disgusting. Swallowing pills dry is not that much better, but I’ll take it.

Slowly, I peel myself out of the blood-stained dress, cursing when I see my body in the mirror.

My dark red dyed hair is disheveled and stringy; the remnants of my makeup make me look like a panda. A battered panda. Bruises decorate my body all over, almost literally from head to toe, because that fucker stepped on my foot at one point. Several bruises are taking shape on my arms, and my left ribcage is marked in an angry red, but the worst one… the worst one is my throat.

I didn’t mention it to Grandma, because she doesn’t need to know about the ten red, angry marks on my throat. She doesn’t need to know that Tom tried to strangle me. If it weren’t for my neighbors, I don’t think I could have called her tonight.

But there’s no point in dwelling on ‘what ifs.’

I’ll get my restraining order, and tomorrow, I’ll probably look for a lawyer to represent me as I pursue charges. Or whatever the damn process is.

Shit. I can’t even afford a lawyer.

I switch on the shower to let the water warm up. Fuck, I didn’t even think this far ahead. I’m sure there will be court-appointed attorneys if I can’t find a good lawyer, but I’d much rather have someone I trust representing me.

Which means I’ll have to tell Jake, and I’ll probably have to tell him soon. Because the thought of Tom walking free is making the hair on my neck stand up and sending panicked shivers down my spine.

Stepping under the warm water, I let out a relieved groan. The heat helps my muscles relax and makes me feel somewhat human again. Not that it’s particularly helpful with my wounds, but the feeling of having all the sweat and blood washing off feels heavenly.

I don’t dare shampoo my hair, and only very carefully wash my body, sparing any open wounds before stepping out, quickly drying myself and slipping into panties and a sleep shirt.

My bed beckons from the next room. For once, I skip my evening skin routine and instead carefully climb into my bed. Putting retinol on open wounds doesn’t sound like the best idea anyway.

It’s incredibly challenging to find a position in which my body doesn’t hurt. Eventually, though, I succeed, or the Ibuprofen finally takes effect.

Whatever the reason, I fall asleep as soon as my head gets comfortable on my pillow.