The Scars She Hides

Part 22 - Bronson

HOLDEN

I closed the door behind me, letting a tired sigh out as I flicked the lock into place.

She had stayed... for a while. We had stayed up, continuing on with the movie marathon to keep ourselves awake. It was an unspoken agreement that when Harry defeated Voldemort, Charlotte would leave.

The cool morning air had been enough to keep me awake and alert enough to drive Charlotte back to campus, but now that I was back home, I could feel the exhaustion creeping in.

As I turned around, I caught sight of Bronson leaning against the kitchen counter, watching me over the rim of his coffee mug. Sleep would have to wait just a little bit longer from the look of it.

I made my way into the kitchen and collapsed into one of the barstool chairs ungracefully. We sat in silence for a minute, neither of us particularly talkative morning people.

"Charlotte's an early riser I take it?" Bronson asked sceptically. I rubbed my hands somewhat aggressively over my face, trying to find the right way to start this conversation.

"Something like that." I mumbled into my fingers. Should I be asking Charlotte's permission first before telling Bronson? Before telling the cops for all intents and purposes? Would that make her more or less afraid of being here?

"Look, I know you are an adult and all, and you make your own choices. But Charlotte is still in high school. Don't you think thats....." Bronson trailed off, trying to lead the conversation on without saying the actual words.

"Friends." I covered my eyes with my fingers. "We are just friends." Unfortunately, I didn't add. "And she's 18." I defended myself from his unspoken assumptions. Sighing, I dropped my hands into my lap. I had already partially dug my grave when I hid the board and cigarette in the workshop from Charlotte. I might as well fully commit before going to her and offering any kind of help.

"Can I ask you something?" I stared at the finger that Charlotte had held onto for the duration of not one but two movies. Bronson put his coffee down on the counter, and turned towards me with his full attention.

"Sure."

Running my hands through my hair, I tryed to find a place to start this. Whether or not I was being vague about the situation, Bronson was going to know this was about Charlotte. I decided to start with a truth.

"Charlotte is very... timid." I started, settling on an acceptable description of the little bird. Bronson huffed out a laugh.

"Is that why she left so early?"

"Er... yes. Kind of." I hedged around the topic of her leaving, not knowing how to bring up that she refused to sleep in a house with a man that she did not know or trust. "But that's not what I wanted to talk to you about. I -"

"Like her?" Bronson interrupted me, a knowing smile on hsi face.

"No." was my immediate response. Denial, denial, Denial.

"You don't like Charlotte?"

"No. I mean yes. I do like -" Lord in heaven, no wonder Charlotte drank so much caffeine. I had no control of my mouth, my brain felt like mush, and if I didn't get some sleep in the next ten minutes I was pretty sure I was going to die. Actually. I took a deep breath, and ignored the winning smirk on Bonsons face.

" So you like her, she likes you, she is very timid, and that is why she left so early?" He summarised doubtfully.

"No, she didn't leave early because she likes me."

"But she does like you?"

"I don't know. That's not really-"

"I'm sure she does, why else would she be helping you with your paper?" Bronson theorised. I couldn't tell him the whole series of events, being a cop he probably would not appreciate the multiple lies that were holding that 'tutoring' story up.