Author's Note

Chapter 18 - Charlotte

I hadn't been to school in over a week.

Mum hadn't even noticed that I was out for over a whole day; she sent me a text saying she had to work overtime, and that she wouldn't be home until the next day. And, something which had worked out a little too nicely, is that there was so much going on at the hospital that she had to leave early each morning, and hadn't noticed how I hadn't been at school.

Convenient, I know.

Meaning that, because I hadn't been to school, I literally hadn't left the house at all. I hadn't showered, my room was a mess with clothes and work scattered literally all over the floor, and I'm sure it stank, and the only reason I'd actually gotten changed was so that my mum didn't get suspicious when she came home. She'd told me I needed to shower, and that she'd never be able to smell again after coming into my room, but I think I was in the clear. For the moment, anyway.

My phone was littered with notifications: texts from the school asking why I wasn't registered each day, texts from Charlie, apologies and questions and concerns, and messages from some unknown number that I had absolutely no clue who it was or why the hell they were asking why I was alright, or if I was dying, or whatever. But I wasn't paying attention, and I'd stopped reading my notifications after the first hour of the first day of doing nothing.

I was wallowing.

I don't even know what in. What are you supposed to wallow in? Self pity? I think it was self pity, but there was literally nothing for me to pity about myself, because I'd brought it upon myself anyway. Maybe it was shame or maybe it was loneliness, I still don't know to this day. I was just wallowing, because sometimes you just need to wallow, and I shouldn't have been wallowing but I was.

There was a lot of crying, I remember. A lot. And there was a lot of dramatic staring at the ceiling like some kind of teenager in a dumb romance novel trying to figure out why the love of her life was kissing another girl. There was very little food, and there was very little water, because I wasn't moving much so I didn't really need it.

Well, for the first day or so. Then it was films. I went through stages of moving on, and it started with wallowing, and then for the rest of the week until the next Monday, it was movies. Harry Potter marathons, John Green films, Disney movies. Shows. Thirteen Reasons, Merlin, Jane the Virgin. Mostly chic flicks, to tell the truth, which is kind of embarrassing but I didn't really care. I consumed so much salted popcorn that I think I probably gave myself permanent kidney damage. Still wallowing, but in a different sort of way. More of an I'm bored of wallowing while doing nothing because it's not keeping my mind off it in any way so I'm going to wallow while watching dumb things in the hope to: a) keep my mind off it and b) make myself feel better about my life.

Now obviously, something had to pull me out of my state, because otherwise you wouldn't be reading this as I'd have died of bloody kidney disease. So what, you might find yourself asking, actually pulled me out of it?

As I've said, this happened until the next Monday, and on that particular Monday, I was marathoning more Disney films and wondering where the hell all the popcorn had gone (I'd eaten it), when there was a knock on the door.

Which, I'm sure you can understand, startled me quite a bit, because mum shouldn't be home yet and no one else would be knocking, so maybe it was the post (which I certainly didn't look presentable enough for) or a murderer (why would they be knocking?) or mum had come home early (again, I didn't look presentable enough) or something and I didn't know what it was, but let me tell you that when I looked out of my living room window and waited a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the bland, white light, I was most certainly not expecting Charlotte to be standing there, plastic bag in hand, frizzy hair tied back in a ponytail, milling around expectantly in front of the door.