Charlotte's Scars

Chapter 22 - Charlotte

And with that she hung up on me.

I stared absently at the wall in front of me as images of Christian and Cecilia invaded my mind. His hands roaming her perfect hourglass figure, his lips kissing her flawless ivory skin, his fingers entangled in her long blond hair.

The walls around me were closing in and there wasn't enough oxygen to fill my lungs. I had nobody left in this world – I was completely and utterly alone. My stomach rolled and I tried to swallow down the acidic bile rising in my throat. My eyes lids became heavy and the world around me seemed to spin unnaturally.

Then I saw him walking down the hallway toward me, clad in black from head to toe just as I always imagined the grim reaper would look. Unconsciousness pulled me under, and I welcomed the sight of death.

"Hey," a deep, husky voice interrupted my dreamless sleep. "Charlotte, are you okay?"

My heavy eye lids fluttered open and stared up at the guy dressed in black. "Y-y-yeah," I said shivering.

It felt as if a sheet of ice enclosed around me and my head spun. A weird sensation shot through my legs and arms, it was like pins and needles circulating through my veins.

The guy kneeling down beside me, took off his leather jacket and put it over my shoulders. Now that his arms were exposed, I could see all the tattoos covering them. I'd never seen someone close to my age with full tattoo'd sleeves. "Wait here, I'll go grab you a Pepsi for that low blood sugar," he said and took off before I could object.

I didn't feel thirsty. And if I had to drink a soda, I much preferred Cherry Coke.

He was back within record time, passing me the can of Pepsi and sitting down on the floor. I stared at the drink inquisitively and then looked up into his dark green eyes. I was almost taken aback by the faded red scar that ran down the right side of his face.

Instantly averting my gaze, I said shyly, "I'm not thirsty..."

His chuckle was deep and hoarse, like he may have smoked one too many cigarettes. "You just fainted, and you're as white as a ghost. This will help you feel a little better."

Slowly, I nodded my head and took a nice, long drink from the can. When I finished, I went to pass it back to him and ended up burping right in his face.

I froze.

His eyes slowly widened, and then he burst into a loud, hearty laughter. It wasn't long before I joined in with him, even though my face was bright red and my heart was beating erratically from the embarrassment.

The sound was almost foreign to my ears - I couldn't remember the last time I made it.

When our laughter died down, he stood up and offered me his hand. "Now that you're looking a little better, let's go get you something to eat."

I peered down at my lap and slowly shook my head. "I'm not-"

"Hungry. I know." Ignoring me, he grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet. "You haven't been hungry for three days, but starving yourself is probably the worst way to commit suicide."

"I'm not trying to," I said defensively. "Plus, humans can go over three weeks without food. Like you said, it's only been three days."

"As interesting as that fun fact was, I won't take no for an answer," he said with a cocky smirk. "I'll even make you my world's famous toast." Dragging me toward the kitchen he said over his shoulder, "And by that I mean, black and burnt because I can't cook."

I sat on a stool at the breakfast bar while he went over to the toaster and put in four slices of bread. When he turned around, he jumped up and sat on the counter, resting his arms casually on his legs. "I guess introductions are in order. You're the new girl, Charlotte, obviously."