Chapter 18

Harper's POV

He reaches out, picks it up slowly, holds it between two fingers like it’s something vile. His lip curls slightly in disgust.

“This is what they want you to wear?” he asks, lifting it higher.

“They said I should choose,” I reply softly, pulling the towel tighter around my body.

He scoffs, then tosses the Hellraiser back onto the bed like it burns. “Yeah, I bet they want you to choose something like this. Might as well wrap yourself in nothing.”

I don’t say anything, because there’s nothing I can say that he’ll hear.

Mark moves to the pile, shuffling through the pieces until he pulls out one of the more basic sets. It’s plain black cotton, thin straps, no lace, no silk, no sparkle. It’s practical. Boring. Something a teenager might wear und