Even as the morning came, Harper didn't wake. She was in the same boat as Hawthorne, unwilling to wake up and only further nestling her body into his. He was so comfortable and she now knew that it'd be impossible or at least extremely difficult to go to sleep without being in his arms. He was far more comfortable than any bed, far more warm than any blanket and the soothing sound of his heartbeat as her ear pressed to his chest was the best the lullaby.
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She screamed as his hand connected roughly to the softness of her cheek. Even in her age, she was still a beautiful woman and it was no mystery as to how her daughter grew into such a beautiful young woman. She was on her hands and knees, her hands bleeding, her arms bleeding, her cheeks covered in scrapes and her entire body shaking as she crawled over to the nearest phone. Just as her bloodied hand touched it, she was dragged away from it by her ankles and all that was heard were her screams before a deafening shot rang out and then even more, deafening silence in the end.