Chapter Sixteen
Charlotte
No, this was not happening – fate couldn't be this cruel.
I stared at the four motorcycles parked in front of my house and restrained the urge to scream. I'd only been gone for under five hours – they couldn't have fallen off the wagon so quickly. Maybe my dad's friends only stopped by to say hi. Maybe they didn't know my parents were clean and trying to sober up.
I walked up the porch stairs and could hear laughter inside.
I knew I should've just come straight home after I left Christian's, but I needed time to think and clear my head. I dropped his truck off at Karla's house, and went to Bridgewalk Public Library for a couple hours. There was something about that place that calmed me down and always made me feel better. I helped Sally shelf books and clean up, and then I walked home.
No, they wouldn't do that to me. I wouldn't believe it – they were serious this time, this time was supposed to be different.
"Charlie!"
I turned around and saw Christian getting out of his truck. "What're you doing here?" I was still mad at him even though a part of me knew he didn't do anything wrong. I was humiliated that he saw my bruises, but moreover, I was upset because I didn't want him to know they were from my parents.
"You leave me stranded at my house out in the country, and that's all you have to say-" He stopped and took a deep breath before saying in a kinder voice, "I mean, I wanted to apologize – I reacted badly, and apparently, I still am. But I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, and I'm sorry. I've been all over town looking for you, Charlie. Just come talk to me, please?"
I kept thinking about when he came and picked me up earlier, and how he talked with my dad, and everything seemed so normal – so perfect. I wanted that and I knew if Christian knew the truth, I wouldn't have it.
I looked backed over at the motorcycles again, and it felt like everything was being ripped away from me. Only five hours ago, it felt like my life was perfect, and for the first time in years I felt a glimmer of hope. Could everything be taken away from me so quickly?
No, I wouldn't believe it. My parents were probably sitting in the house sober and trying to get those guys to leave. They probably had a pile of movies sitting on the coffee table waiting for me to get home, so we could have our movie night.
"No, don't you understand?" I walked down the steps because I didn't want my parents to hear us out here. "I don't want to talk about it. It's none of your business, and you have no right to demand answers from me. We aren't dating, and until one week ago, you didn't even know I existed."
He furrowed his brows and took a hesitate step toward me. "Charlie-" he said in a pained voice.
I heard people laughing and uncertainty began to set in. I looked up at my house and then back at Christian. "No, just go home, okay? I don't like you that way and I definitely don't want you here," but that was a lie. I did want him here, I wanted to run over to him and take comfort in his arms. I didn't want to go inside, but at the same time, there was this small part of me that clung to the hope that they were still sober.
And if they weren't, I couldn't bare it if Christian witnessed them in that state. He would know the second he saw them where I got the bruises from, and I was terrified of what might happen.
Christian stared at me for a couple more seconds but finally he turned around and headed toward his truck. As I watched his retreating back, it felt like my heart was breaking into a thousand tiny pieces. I couldn't watch him get into his truck and leave, it felt too final, so instead I ran into my house.
I could hear people talking in the living room, so I followed their voices and with each step I took, my heart beat a little faster.
Please, please, please just let them be sober.
I turned the corner and saw my mom leaning over the coffee table with a five dollar bill pressed to her nostril. Beside her was a half empty bottle of tequila and my dad and his friends were further on the couch passing around a crack pipe.
Hot, angry tears swelled up in my eyes and I ran at my Mom. "You promised!" I shouted and shoved her away from the drugs. Emotions twisted inside me, and I abandoned myself to them. The fury, grief, and frustration took control of me, I couldn't stop myself. I swiped the cocaine off the table and it adorned the olive colored carpet with white specks. "You promised this time would be different!"
"What the fuck Charlie!" My dad jumped off the couch and his four friends followed suit. "Look what you fucking did!"
My mom stared at me with large, dilated pupils, but when she realized what happened, she also sprang up to her feet. She slapped me across the face so hard it forced a couple tears to roll down my cheeks.
But the emotions had a death grip on me, and I pushed her. "Why?!" I screamed, "Why couldn't you stay sober?!"
My dad grabbed the back of my neck and threw me to the ground. He held my head inches above the carpet, and yelled, "I said, look what you fucking did!"
"Jesus, Richie, you're paying for what your little brat just wasted," one of his friends said stubbornly.
My dad cursed heatedly and then pulled me up off the ground. He looked like he was about to punch me in the face, but someone else's fist connected with his cheek instead. My dad fell to the ground, and Christian jumped on top of him and started feeding him punch after punch.
"Christian, Stop!" I shouted but he didn't even falter.
My dad's friends, Frank and baldy, closed in on Christian and pulled him to his feet. Frank went in for a punch, but Christian dodged it and gave him an uppercut to the chin and a hook punch to the side of his head. Frank's body barely touched the ground before Baldy shoved Christian from behind.
He caught his balance only one second too late, and Baldy landed a punch to Christian's cheek. But it didn't even slow him down, and he grabbed Baldy by the neck and swiped his feet out from under him. He landed on his arm and I heard a loud crack that made my body shutter.
Christian looked across the living room to where my dad's other two friends were standing. Bushy beard had his arms folded across his chest and he was watching Christian with an amused look on his face. The other guy with the missing teeth put his hands up in surrender and said, "Don't mine' me, I ain't gonna mess with a Steele – I ain't stupid or nuttin'."
Christian nodded to the guys and then turned to look at me. "Come on, Charlie, you're coming with me," he said and reached for my hand.
I pulled away from him and shook my head. "No!" I shouted and looked over to my dad who was finally pulling himself back up. "You can't just barge in here, beat up my dad and expect me to leave with you. I told you to go home, why couldn't you just listen to me! You weren't supposed to see this, you were supposed to – Dad, don't!" I pushed Christian out of the way and cried out when the table lamp broke across my face.
Christian caught me before I fell to the ground, and he looked about ready to go for round two with my dad. "Stop, Christian, please – enough." He looked down at me with conflicted emotions but finally nodded.
My mom chose that moment to finally step in. "This is your fucking fault, you little wench!" She screamed at me and threw her glass. It just barely missed me and Christian and smashed against the wall behind us. "We were having a good time till you showed up, so just leave! Get the fuck out of my home."
I glared at her for a couple seconds, but finally said in a low, lethal voice, "You are delusional if you actually think this is a home." I wiped blood off my face and walked to the door with Christian following close behind me.
When we got into the safety of his truck, I just couldn't hold it back any longer and burst into tears. They were supposed to be my parents – my protectors, but instead, they were the ones I needed protecting from. The reality of it hurt more than any physical pain ever could. I couldn't even remember the last time I let myself cry, but for some reason, it hurt so much more this time. I shouldn't have let myself cling to the hope that they were actually going to change.
Christian reached toward me and took off my glasses. The one side was broken from the impact of the table lamp. Then he pulled me into his arms and held me as my tears soaked his shirt.
My body trembled and I couldn't seem to stop. I kept thinking about early in the evening and how happy I was, and the sincerity in my mom's face when she looked me in the eyes and promised they would be there when I got home. But they weren't there – not the real them, not the parents I loved.
I couldn't understand why this had to happen to me. I was a good person – I was caring and considerate to others. I had strong morals and a good heart, so why couldn't I have parents that loved me. Why couldn't I have parents that didn't hurt me – or worse, hurt each other?
Christian whispered in my ear, "It's okay – just let it out."
And I did. I cried in his arms the whole drive back to his house – I wanted to stop, but it was like all the pain and hurt I'd felt throughout my life had overflowed and was now pouring out of me.
~~
Note: Waaa.... So much for Charlie's sober parents. At least Christian was there for her.
Once again thank you everyone for all the votes and comments, you are all amazing! I know I don't reply to all the comments, but I do read them all!! 8)