Stranger Nights

Chapter 20

Minister Elliot met Freddy as soon as he came through the door.

"Where have you been?" He asked.

"Out." Freddy replied slipping off his converse.

"It's been two days." the Minister said. Freddy cringed and he took off his coat.

He hates when his father acts like this. Like a parent. Like a person. Freddy tried to escape to his room only to be followed. "You were at the party weren't you?"

"Maybe." Freddy said shortly. He stood in the doorway of his bedroom, glaring at his father's chest.

"Did anyone see you?" his father snarled. Just like that the Ministers façade disappeared and was replaced by what he truly was.

"No."

"Were you with anyone."

"No."

"What about that Baker boy." Freddy looked up in surprise. His lips formed a straight line.

"No." he said quickly.

"Lying isn't your strong suit son." the Minister said sending him a toothy grin. Freddy felt his heart rate start to pick up. Minister Elliott turned and started to walk away before stopping and turning toward his son. "Oh, yes, and tonight at 4:30 you must come to the church. If you do not there will be consequences for you....and your friend."

Freddy's father left him standing in the doorway shaking. Soon after, Freddy heard the door slam telling him that his father left. Only then did he move. He crawled into bed and made himself as small as possible.

Charlotte had not had anything to eat since the dance and all she had then were three apple slices. If her stomach didn't ache she probably would of just stayed in bed, she did stay in bed actually for awhile, but soon the hunger became too strong for her to bear. She got up slowly, pushing off her red quilts. She shivered as the cold air around her hit her. She decided to put on something warmer than her skirt.

She went to her dresser. A small white music box with gold outlining sat in the middle of it. It had belonged to her mother. She didn't know why she kept it around She usually never touched it, but this time she reached out and opened it. Spinning the knob the ballerina in the light blue tutu started to go around as if dancing.

She slipped off her skirt and long sleeved shirt as the music played. This left her in her underwear. Her teeth started to chatter. She caught sight of herself in the long mirror beside her window. She was pale, like most people were because of lack of the sun, and she was skinny. She walked toward the mirror and examined herself.

She pulled out the rubber band that was keeping her hair in. Her bleach blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. It was curly and stuck up at all the wrong spots. She never bothered to brush it or even wash it. She had hair like her fathers and because of that she did not care for it.

Her eyes however belonged to her mother. Her uncle told her that when she was seven and stilled talked to her Uncle and Henry's father. Her Uncle Luke was the only one who ever talked about her mother. Her step-aunt didn't know her personally and her father.....and her father never talked to Charlotte. Her eye's were a spring green color. The color of grass after it rained her grandmother used to say. Henry always said they were very bright.

As the soft music played Charlotte tucked a loose strand of yellow hair behind her ear. Her arm dropped to her side and she looked in to her own eyes. For a moment, nothing more than a quick flash really, Charlotte thought that she looked like her mother. She thought that this is what her mother must have looked like. This is what the person that her father loved must have looked like. This is what the person she killed look liked.

The music stopped just as the thought had come. And the spring in Charlotte's eyes became a storm. Anger bubbled inside of her. She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. The person in the mirror was not her mother. It was someone cold and dark and alone. She hated that person. She grabbed the music box and threw at the mirror as hard as she could. The mirror shattered in a great smash. The ballerina that once danced, broke from the box and laid next to it.

Realizing what she had done, Charlotte knelt down and took the ballerina in her hands. Deep down Charlotte hoped that her father would come rushing in and yell at her for breaking something that belonged to the woman he had loved. He never came of course. Charlotte knew he had heard it, it must have at least woke him up, but still he wasn't there. She carefully laid the ballerina back on the ground and got up. She was going to lay back down and sleep, but before she could get in her bed a sharp pain struck her foot. She collapsed to the ground. Her foot was bleeding because she had stepped on a piece of broken glass. Blood had already stain her brown carpet. She bit her lip and buried her head in her arms on her bed, half of her body still on the ground and still in her underwear. If you had looked at her, even closely, you probably would've thought she was just asleep because Charlotte Baker was not a loud crier.