The Life of Charlotte Diaz

Chapter 8. Bottled Up Again

NOT EDITED

"Honestly Charlie, I don't understand why I have not seen that boy until now. I mean, it seems like you guys are such good friends," I rolled my eyes at that, " and he chooses now to make himself known to me?"

My grandma continues to ramble on as I scrub the dishes harshly. During dinner, I kept quiet- as I usually did- and listened to the two of them carry on easy-going conversations. It was still an unsettling sight, but I pushed it to the back of my head. There was no reason to get upset when Luke was being kind to her. I felt the glances he gave me during dinner, but not once did I look at him. I knew my godmother noticed too since she gave me a teasing grin at one point.

I still couldn't quite wrap my brain around what happened though, and I hated it. Luke had always been a confusing character from the start, but this was something I never anticipated on. I always thought I would finish my senior year like I finished all the years. Except, my bully was now talking to me as if we had been long-time friends.

Suddenly, a thought hit me. It's not real. I chuckled bitterly in my head, mentally shaking my head at how absolutely stupid I was beginning to sound.

It was all fake; a facade Luke had put up to make it seem like he was a nice guy. It was just like the last time he had came over and had dinner with me and my grandma. In that moment, he was all kind and his charming features and confident personality made it easy to fall under his spell. But the very next day, he was back to the Luke Carter I've known him to be.

Still, I didn't understand the motive behind it all. What exactly was he hoping to accomplish with everything?

"Charlie? Are you alright? You've been scrubbing that same dish for the past five minutes," she chuckled, though I heard the concern coated in her tone.

I blinked my eyes, just now taking notice of the glass plate in my hand that I hadn't stopped scrubbing. I set it aside delicately, and shot my grandma a coy smile.

She nodded her head at me, though I knew she was still concerned. "Did you umm... read the letter?" She asked turning her head from my gaze.

Confused, I sat there a moment, before realization dawned on me. My eyes widened considerably when I remembered the letter from the Louisiana County Jail.

My heart gave out a painful churn as my stomach began to grow uneasy and pains shot through it. My shoulder burned with discomfort and agony. I dried off my hands, to then rub my shoulder in a soothing manner, trying to rid the feeling away.

Finally, I turned to her, and shook my head slowly.

She chewed on her bottom lip, gulping back. "I think you should read it, doll. Maybe it'll be good for you." She tried to make it seem like whatever was in the contents of the envolpe was something that was good. But I knew. I knew it wasn't. I knew who it was from. It was exactly why I didn't want to open it; why I didn't want to read it. I knew it would be too painful. It would hurt too much.

"Charlie," my grandmother came by my side, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. "It's been five years." She croaked out.