Horrible Harper

Chapter Two Episode 5

Scene Nine

Margaret reached for the light switch and pressed it. The living room lit up, and she sank onto the couch. Suddenly, the door to Charles’s room opened, and the boy stepped out. Margaret jolted in terror, her body shivering as goosebumps crept across her skin. She turned her gaze toward Charles, her fear barely contained.

Meanwhile, Robert wandered among the neighboring houses. He stopped in the middle of the road, uncertain of where to go. His eyes darted in every direction, confusion and dread etched across his face. Defeated, he turned back toward the house.

Margaret now sat on the couch, holding Charles tightly in her arms, as if to shield him from her own trembling fears. She whispered reassurances, though her heart beat with panic.

The front door creaked open. Robert stepped inside, closing it firmly behind him, his eyes meeting Margaret’s.

Margaret whispered, her voice tense:

— “Did you find her?”

Robert shook his head.

— “I stood in the middle of the street, not knowing which way to turn. I thought she would still be near the house.”

Margaret’s voice cracked with worry:

— “What will you do? Should we call the police?”

Robert frowned, his tone firm though troubled.

— “I’ll call Dr. Mason first. If we involve the police, they’ll blame us for negligence… for failing to watch over Harper. We could be held responsible, even imprisoned.”

Margaret lowered her head, nodding silently.

Robert retreated into his room. He turned on the light and walked toward the table where his phone lay waiting. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he dialed Dr. Mason’s number.

In another part of the city, Dr. Mason was asleep in his bed. The shrill ringing of the phone broke the silence, forcing his eyes open.

Scene Ten

Darkness enveloped one of the neighboring houses, silence pressing down like a heavy veil. At the tightly shut window, Harper stood motionless, her frail figure reflected in the glass, her eyes fixed inside. A small boy lay fast asleep, his face peaceful and untroubled, while an old ball rested on the floor beside his bed.

Harper’s lips curved into a twisted, unsettling smile—an expression that carried a hint of madness, as though she were savoring the moment in secret. She leaned closer, pressing both palms firmly against the glass. Suddenly, with a violent shove, the silence was shattered. The window exploded in a sharp crash, shards scattering across the room. Harper vaulted inside with abrupt force, collapsing onto the floor right beside the ball. The stillness of the room was broken, its innocence transformed into a stage of dread with her arrival.

...

Meanwhile, Robert sat on the edge of his bed, clutching his phone. His voice was tight with unease:

– “Good evening, Dr. Mason. Forgive me for calling at this hour, but when we woke up, Harper was gone. I don’t know what to do... so I called you.”

Dr. Mason’s reply came sharp, laced with reproach:

– “I warned you, Robert. Harper cannot be left on her own.”

Robert leaned forward, his hand pressed against his forehead, speaking in despair:

– “That’s what happened... she tricked us. She slipped out while we were asleep.”

There was a pause on the line, then Mason’s tone shifted into something analytical:

– “Tell me... how did Harper spend her day? What did she do from morning until night?”

Robert hesitated, then answered:

– “Nothing, really... she spent the whole day in her room, painting.”

– “Painting?” Mason’s voice carried a note of surprise. “Is that something she usually does?”

– “Not often,” Robert admitted with a sigh. “And even when she does, her drawings are awful—nonsense, really, impossible to understand.”

Another silence stretched out before Mason spoke again, slower this time:

– “I need to see those drawings. Bring them to me immediately. Meet me at the clinic...”

He glanced at his watch, then added:

– “Half an hour from now. Perhaps I can interpret what she’s trying to express through them. If she hasn’t returned home, her drawings might be the only clue to where she’s gone.”

Robert’s response came quickly, filled with both fear and fragile hope:

– “Thirty minutes... I’ll be there.”

The call ended, but Mason could still hear Robert’s voice echoing in his mind, while outside, the night seemed to grow heavier, as though concealing a dark secret waiting to be uncovered.

Scene Eleven

The room was drowned in a suffocating silence, broken only by the boy’s ragged breaths—until even those faded away. Harper stood at the edge of the bed, her glassy eyes fixed on the child’s limp body. His throat had been cut wide open, spilling an endless stream of crimson. The blood poured over the pillow, soaking the sheets until the entire bed looked drenched in red, as though a fragment of hell had bled into the heart of the room.

Her eyes did not blink. Her face betrayed no hint of regret, no trace of hesitation. Harper’s expression was eerily calm, cold—as if the act itself had nothing to do with her, as if she were merely a vessel moved by some unseen force.

A faint smile tugged at her lips before she slowly turned toward the window. She cast the blood-soaked body out of her mind as though it had never existed, and approached with measured steps. Her small hands pushed the frame open with a soft creak, and with uncanny ease, she slipped outside.

Landing silently on the ground, she straightened her posture and lifted her gaze toward the distance. There, faint against the vast darkness, her home appeared—a lonely glimmer swallowed by the night. The road was long, the silence suffocating, the shadows endless, yet Harper walked with calm, deliberate steps.

She moved as though returning from an ordinary stroll, untouched by the horror she had left behind. No trace of guilt, no weight of conscience—only an unsettling serenity. And it was that very calmness that made the scene all the more terrifying… as if she had done absolutely nothing at all.