June 15th, 1984

"Charlotte, listen - this is very important," Grandaddy says to me. He's seated on the end of my bed, and he's closed the door. His voice is serious and stoney.

"I'm listening," I reply.

Days ago, after Harper's episode, things have been awkward and heavy around the Thornton Hall. Grandpa Jackson has had several people over, as well as making hushed phone calls when he thinks no one is around. I can't tell what he's been doing, but I've had the sneaking suspicion that it has to do with Harper's outbursts.

He tried to get her to see a therapist, for a way to express and channel her negative emotions, but she hasn't agreed to it. She justs yells and runs off. I've been on the lookout for her, but she hasn't been in her room or in the cemetery. She must've found a new place to hide. I'm not surprised; there are so many hidden rooms and passageways in this old building.

Harper has been very on edge lately. After she struck Clara, Wade and I have really been the only people on her side. Everyone's been so cold to her; why can't they see she's in awful pain?

The funeral is tomorrow. They're going to be buried in the cemetery next to each other, of course. Many of the Thornton relatives are coming in from the mainland and from as far as Atlanta for it. I'm sure most of them only want to question Granddaddy about who the new head of the family business will be.

I've been trying to keep it all together, mostly for Harper, but just thinking about it...just thinking about how the majority of the family doesn't really care...it's too much to bear, honestly. A tear slips silently down my cheek.

"Sweet Charlotte, you know bad things are going down with Harper…" Grandpa Jackson trails on. I nod. "I've tried to get her to see someone, or to even talk to you about it, but she's so resistant...I'm not sure what else can be done. I've made some phone calls to some people, getting the best advice I can on what to do, and, I think I've found a solution…

"There's a school up in North Carolina that would be perfect for her. It's to help rehabilitate young girls like her who have faced something tragic to trigger episodes like hers...I'm not saying we're going to send her there, but if she does something dangerous, we may have no other choice."

He leans back, finished with his explanation. My jaw drops and my throat feels dry, suddenly it's like I can't breathe. I've just lost Mother and Father, and now I'm going to lose Harper, too?

"No!" I say when I find my voice. I stand up harshly, almost knocking my lamp off my nightstand. "You can't take her away!"

Grandaddy stands up next to me and puts a calming hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to, Charlotte. But if worse comes to worse, I'm going to do what's safest for you and for the rest of my family."

I'm crying, harder than I have since I first heard the news about Mother and Father. I love Harper to pieces; she's my little sister, I remember playing dolls with her and dancing with her. I can see her picking flowers in the garden; I can see her spinning around in the guest house. She's laughing and smiling, so innocent and pure. She's Harper.

"Charlotte, you know I love you and your sister, but I must think about what is best for everyone," Grandpa Jackson says, his voice cold and unwelcoming. He turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Suddenly I hate him, and I hate this house, and I hate that Mother and Father had to die. I hate it all.

When I've calmed down, I hear a slow knock at the door. I look up, hoping it's Harper. But Clara's meek voice sounds as she asks for permission to enter.

"Come in," I struggle to say. I can't talk to her now; I can't talk to anyone.

She comes and sits right next to me on my bed, wrapping her arms around me. Ever since she came to live with us years ago, she's been like a sister to me. She's been my best friend. Harper's always been more indifferent towards her, but after striking her, Clara's distaste for my baby sister has grown.

"It'll be okay, Char. I'm sure Harper will be just fine. She won't have to go away," Clara coos as she strokes my hair.

I look up at her, my cheeks stained with mascara from my tears, my lungs course and empty. "What do you care? You hate her," I sneer.

"I most certainly do not hate her! I love her...we've had our differences, sure, and the other day wasn't particularly lovely, but…" She sighs. "I love all of you. You're my family."

Though her words are sweet, I can tell she doesn't mean them. Not really, not all the way. She might care for her because we're family, but she'd care not if Harper were to be shipped off to that school tomorrow.

I smiley weakly. "Thanks, Clara. Really."

She smiles back, her thin lips curling.

Clara came to the Hall about ten years ago. She was young, small, and utterly alone. Never knowing who her father was, and having just lost her mother, we were the only family she really knew. Mother, Father, Grandaddy, Harper, and I took her right in.

Being the same age as me, Clara and I took a liking to each other immediately. Harper was a little standoffish and shy, never making too much of a bond with our new "sister". Harper always seemed painfully aware that Clara wasn't really our sister, and was actually our cousin. But that's never bothered me.

Growing up the more extroverted and bold of us two, I've always found it my business to protect Harper. She grew up a little more needy than most, until she was about nine when she found out nobody wanted her to be needy, so she stopped asking for things. For things like hugs, and someone to tuck her in bed at night. No one noticed, what with being so busy running the company. But I noticed.

I cared for her and loved her more than I believe anyone has for their sibling in this cold, uncaring Thornton family lineage. Throughout the years, I think Clara has felt left out, and of course she's felt a heavy sadness from her own losses.

That's why Clara and Harper have always been a little bitter towards each other. Despite her quiet nature, Harper can be quite the fireball, and snapping at Clara has never been something she's afraid to do. I feel as though I'm the only one holding them together.

All her life, Clara has been cut short, with losing her parents so young, and of course being from the side of the family tree she's from. Ever since a tragic incident years ago, the family tree of the Thorntons has been split. There are those of us who believe the tragedy that took place should never take place again, and there are those that would do anything to continue the success and power of the Thornton business. Clara's mother, though born to Grandpa Jackson and Grandma Whitney - may God bless her soul - found herself on the selfish, power-hungry side of the split.

Of course Mother and Father haven't blamed poor Clara for being born to that side of the family, but there have been arguments breaking out about it every now and then. My parents tried to hide it from Clara, but she always knew. She always knows. Some Thorntons thinks we shouldn't have taken her in. Some think we should have let "her side" take her in. It's all nonsense, really, but it can get to you.

Harper and I have always had our place here at the Hall, children to the heads of the Thornton company. We've always been loved and wanted, but Clara has never felt like she belongs; she's always had it hard.

As I wasn't present at the time, I'm not sure what was said or done to trigger Harper to hit Clara, and I'm worried something will happen and Harper will feel the need to do something else harmful. Something worse.

Maybe not to Clara, even. Maybe to Grandaddy or to Wade; maybe even to me. Maybe even to herself.