Page 132 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

Janet’s face crumpled. She took my hand gently, the one without the IV.

“Sweetheart… I need you to listen to me, okay?” Her voice trembled. “There was a fire at your house. You were the only one who made it out.”

I stared at her, waiting for her to say something else. Something that made sense.

Janet’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Harper. Your mom didn’t make it. Neither did Harmony.”

I turned my head away as much as I could. Tears leaked from the corner of my eye, stinging the deep cuts on my face. I had already known, some part of me had known the moment I woke up, but hearing it out loud still carved something out of me.

They were really gone.

The days settled into a miserable rhythm of pain, drugs, and nightmares. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Thomas’s smile. Heard Harmony’s scream. Smelled gasoline and smoke.

One evening, as Janet adjusted the blanket around me, she spoke quietly.

“No one knows you’re here. For now, you’re listed as Jane Doe. Brian thought it was safer that way… until we figure out exactly who did this.”

I barely reacted. I was too numb to feel afraid anymore.

Two police officers came a few days later. They sat by my bed with a notepad and asked questions I couldn't answer through my wired jaw. Janet stood by the door the whole time. No doctors. No nurses. Just the two of them, speaking quietly, writing things down that I couldn't see. They left after twenty minutes and never came back.

Later, I would learn they had moved me to a different hospital while I was still unconscious — all part of keeping me hidden.

The next day, a surgeon came in with Janet beside him. He explained my injuries in a calm, clinical voice while I stared at the wall.

"Fractured orbital bone. Crushed cheekbone. Broken jaw. Deep lacerations with glass embedded in the tissue. We've already performed several surgeries, but you'll need more. We're using biodegradable scaffolds to rebuild the bone structure. Your body will absorb them over time."

He paused, glancing at Janet before turning back to me.

"You haven't shifted yet," he said. It wasn’t really a question. "When your cougar comes, and she will, the repairs must hold through the shift. That’s why this process is taking longer than usual. Everything we build has to integrate properly afterward.”

I lifted a trembling hand and touched the thick bandages covering my face. The skin beneath didn’t feel like mine anymore. It felt like something ruined. Something foreign.

I stopped listening after that. His words faded into background noise. Nothing he said could fix what actually mattered.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Four days later, I asked about them again.

My jaw was wired shut, so I wrote on the notepad Janet had left on the bedside table. My handwriting was shaky and childlike, the pen slipping in my weak fingers.

Was there a funeral?

Janet read the note and went very still. She took a slow breath before answering.

"There was, sweetheart. Three days ago. We buried them at Lincoln Cemetery, next to your father. There was no family left, so Brian and I arranged everything."

I stared at the paper. The words blurred. I hadn't been there to say goodbye. The pen trembled in my hand, but I couldn’t bring myself to write anything else.

Janet leaned closer, her voice gentle. “Harper… to the rest of the world, you died in that fire too. The official report says there were three victims. That’s what everyone believes.”

I looked up at her slowly.

“No one knows you survived,” she added.

Why? I scribbled.

Janet hesitated, glancing toward the closed door before leaning in.