June 10th, 1984

The dead silence weighs heavily on the room. We've all gathered in the front parlor - Grandaddy, Aunt Virginia, Uncle Luther, Wade, Clara, and I - for the party. The presents have been neatly stacked on the coffee table, and there's cake in the dining room. We're all waiting for Harper.

I told her everyone was here. She said she was getting ready. Despite yesterday's episode, Harper has seemed to come around to the idea of her birthday celebration. Not that she's completely excited for it or anything, but she stopped complaining.

The grandfather clock chimes; the sound echoes through the room. No one stirs.

"I'll go check on Harper," I offer. "She must be done getting ready by now."

Grandaddy nods at me, and everyone seems more relaxed at the notion. I get up from the sofa and go upstairs, rapping lightly at her bedroom door.

"Harper? Harper everyone's -" I stop myself short. A sharp noise sounds from behind me. I whirl around as I realize what room it came from. Mother and Father's.

The noise repeats, and I carefully push open the door. I haven't been in this room since…

"Harper?"

Harper stands anxiously at the opposite wall, her hair a mess and a crazes look in her eyes. She's tearing at the room, smashing the framed photos of our parents, ripping at the wallpaper, and knocking over furniture. She doesn't even acknowledge my presence.

Immediately I go to stop her; I can't believe she'd destroy their room! All of the memories it contains, all of the parts of them reside in here. I catch her arm as she goes to punch the wall. She's crying, I see.

"Harper this is insanity! You must stop!" I try to hold her back, but she fights against me. For being so thin and wiry, she's got some strength to her.

"I don't want a party, I don't want this...I can't do it, Charlotte! I can't do it!" she shouts at me.

I restrain her the best I can. "Okay, okay - you don't have to go downstairs, but you can't destroy their room like this! This is not the way to go about things, doll." I try to calm her down.

Her dark eyes stare into mine, and all color seems void from her face. "It doesn't matter anymore, Charlotte. They're gone. They're dead."

Now I'm crying too, and she slips away from me, running out of the room and through the house, down the stairs. I hear another sharp noise from below, and then the course reprimand from Grandaddy. His loud voice carries through the Hall, bouncing off the walls.

"HARPER, STOP! THIS IS SHAMEFUL. YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO THE THORNTON NAME. HOW COULD YOU?"

I gather all the courage inside of me and force myself to go downstairs. Harper is going through hell right now and she needs someone to stand up for her. When I reach the parlor, the sight surprises and frightens me.

Harper doesn't look like the younger sister I've always known, instead she looks crazed. Her fingers are bleeding from tearing at our parents' bedroom, her clothes are in a disarray, her black hair is ruffled and wild, and her eyes seem soulless and determined. It sends a shiver down my spine.

Then I notice that Clara has been knocked down on the floor, and she's clutching her face as if she were struck there. Grandaddy stands in front of her, guarding her. Protecting her. From Harper.

My eyes flicker from Clara back to Harper. I can't believe what's happened. Surely this has little to do with her birthday, and most to do with our parents.

"Harper, what have you done?" I gasp.

She just looks at me coldly. I see no remorse or guilt in her expression, just...emptiness.