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I stared at Brett’s sleeping figure for a while, and then I closed my eyes, and when those eyelids of mine fell, it was like I was transported back in time, the memories so fresh and vivid they assaulted all my senses.
Taste: the dryness of my mouth. No matter how many times I tried to muster up some spit and swallow, I couldn’t.
Smell: the scent of his cologne, a musky scent I used to adore.
Sight: a familiar face, smiling down at me. A face I used to love, but that love had been taken, tainted, and twisted so long ago.
Sound: “You’re such a good girl for me, Charlie.” His favorite line, although it was closely followed by variations of, “Remember, you can’t tell anyone about this. This is our little secret.” And, like a stupid child, I’d listened and kept it to myself.
And, this was the biggest one, touch: the feel of his hands on me, taking in every part of me. His fingers prodding and pushing where they didn’t belong, slipping inside whenever they could, when we were alone. Other parts of him making those fingers of his seem like the better choice.
My breathing grew faster, harder. Pressure pushed upon my lungs, threatening to suffocate. No matter how much I breathed, I couldn’t quite catch my breath.
I wanted to cave into myself, to become so small no one would notice me. It’d worked well in most areas of my life, but never with him. There was a time when I used to think Zak saw through it, too, but he was just like everyone else. He never really cared. How could he, when he hadn’t even tried to push Amelia away?
No one cared about me. Everything was a lie, and that was the most suffocating thought.
I must’ve made too much noise, because Brett stirred. He reached out for me through the darkness, and once he realized I was no longer there with him, he sat up. It took him a while to see me through the shadows, and when he saw me on the other side of the treehouse, he started to crawl toward me.
“Charlie,” he whispered my name, “what’s wrong? What—”
Brett reached out for me, and he was seconds from touching me, but I stopped him by saying, “Don’t touch me.” I still breathed loudly, and my airways were tight. “Don’t.”
“Charlie.” My name sounded much sadder on his tongue this time. “Talk to me.”
What was there to say? What could I tell him that would make any sense at all? No, at this point, there was nothing at all I could say that would make either of us feel better. Instead, I said something I should’ve said a long time ago: “Go.”
“What?”
“Go,” I said again, firmer this time. “I want you to leave.” Tears threatened to spill from the corners of my eyes, but I blinked and did my best to hold them back. The last thing I wanted was for Brett to see me lose it. “Get dressed and go. I don’t want your help anymore. I just want you to leave.”
My heart constricted as I said it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted… I wanted things I could never have. My life. My happiness. That innocence that had been taken from me way too soon by someone I trusted.
I never heard someone sound more sad than Brett did when he said my name a third time, “Charlie.”
“Go!” This time I shouted it. It was a good thing we weren’t close to the house, that the woods would eat up the sound before it reached my parents’ room. I had to yell it out, otherwise… I didn’t know what would happen.
I’d lose my nerve and ask him to stay with me forever? No.
That final shout was all Brett needed. He pulled back from me, gave me his back, and got dressed. Jeans, his shoes, a shirt, and a hoodie with a fake Nike logo on it—a win at Goodwill. I heard him stuff his phone into his pocket, and then he moved toward the door to the treehouse.
Brett heaved himself over, but he did stop and look at me. I thought he’d say something, try to persuade me to take it all back, but in the end, he looked away and dropped out of sight, taking one step down the ladder at a time.
I heard his feet when they crunched on the leaves below, listened as his footsteps grew softer and fainter the further away he got, until I couldn’t hear him anymore.
And then I was alone, just like I always was.
Chapter Twenty-Three – Charlie
Sunday came and went, and all the while, I was miserable. My parents didn’t notice, because I locked myself away in my bedroom all day. My sister tried to message me about Ian, and I was purposefully vague, not feeding her any details because I knew anything I told her, she’d probably turn right back around and tell our mom.
I couldn’t sleep that night, and when Monday morning rolled around, I decided I should go check the treehouse.
Maybe Brett had come back. Where else would he go? He was a wanted man. He didn’t have anywhere else. Maybe he’d waited for me to calm down and then circled back.
Honestly, as I pushed out of the house and headed straight for the woods beyond the fence, I hoped he was there. I… I shouldn’t have reacted like that after we were together. It wasn’t something I should take out on him.
It was me. The problem was always me.
