Spoken in Lies

My Charlotte

A/N: The length of the story depends on the amount of support I get. I am rubbish at getting the motivation to continue some things :'(

Chapter 1:

We kneel next to each other on the cool, polished marble. How long has it been since we've last been next to one another? My senses tingle as her rose-tainted perfume permeates the air around. I had forgotten her perfume, how delicately she laced it behind her neck and under her arms, and I will never forgive myself for letting even one shred of memory go. Not when it's about her.

Not when it's about my Charlotte.

She shifts slightly, locks of hair forming a frozen waterfall down one side of her face. I wait a few seconds, timing the exact second that she tucks them back behind her ear. Yes, she's paused for four seconds before smoothing back her tresses, stifling a petite cough in the interlude. A little smile flits across my face, just for a moment. Elegant. Sophisticated. She was always so mature, but just that little notion reminds me of just how much time has passed since I last saw her. My Charlotte. But she isn't. Not anymore.

She cannot be my anything now.

The skimpily applied mascara, clinging gently to her lashes, the dainty beaded clip, retaining a veil of auburn ...  reminiscences flood back thick and fast. Charlotte glances briefly at me, but I keep my gaze focused ahead. I don't want to see her expression. I cannot begin to imagine how she pictures me now. A monster? No ... a liar, someone not to be trusted. Years. Years of hiding, and now that the truth is out ... now what? Did I really expect to carry it to the grave?

Now the whole world knows my name. 

"You ready now, sweet-cheeks?" a familiar voice whispers in Charlotte's ear, "We're on in ... ten minutes."

It's Carl. I hate how he calls Charlotte all these lover-boy nicknames. Sickening, isn't it? How these people try to flatter you like that, crawling under your skin, tricking you into trusting them. But Charlotte, my Charlotte, just nods and shows no sign of affection back. Her gown trailing along the floor behind her, she saunters off with Carl into the glare of the spotlights. When the lights dim, she is out of sight entirely. My little baby, grown up on the stage, revered by the paparazzi and reporters, envied by unsuccessful actresses, mingling with models and movie-stars ... my little baby, all grown up into such a beautiful woman. But she is young, she is a young woman, and ... I can't help but feel like something will happen, someday soon.

And I will not be of any help at all.

Charlotte Davies hates her mother.

But Amara Davies couldn't loathe her back.

Never in a million years.

Cold water penetrates my daydreams. I massage my face with every type of cream I can get my hands on, lathering it on, rubbing it vigorously into the pores. Refresh, yes, I need to completely freshen up. My cross-stitched silk top is already smelling musty, and I had only bought it yesterday — the proof of how tense I am around Charlotte. Tense? Around my own daughter? Teasing the garment over my head, I toss it onto the IKEA laundry bag. I have so much money to splash out on a pretty little wicker basket, but I don't. Habits stick. Like the fact I haven't moved out of the house Charlotte grew up in, even though she now lives in one of the dishiest houses in London. London. Not LA, London, yet my teen-idol daughter is a celebrity. As I twist magnificent spouts of steaming water from both taps and into the bathtub, I kick back in the chair in the corner and reflect. Just an 'extra-curricular activity', that was all it was. I remember Charlotte reading the letter out to me, her hair tied up in a sophisticated bun, a pencil tucked neatly behind one ear. She nodded her head when I asked if she wanted to be in it.

'I think I just want a break from all the exam-stress, really,' she had calmly told me, 'It should be fun.'

A 'fashion show'. Of all things. Just a silly, lively thing to get everyone's strengths up. And Charlotte would be one of the models. I signed the consent form, that a video and photos may be put up on the school website, and that was it.

Except it wasn't.

Several days later, I got the shock of my life when I saw Charlotte on-screen. On YouTube, with over a million hits. Turns out that the whole thing had gone viral overnight when one of the parents had filmed it, and then posted it online. Things spiraled out of control very quickly. A modelling firm, admiring Charlotte's potential (and chest), hooked her up on TV with barely a chance to intervene. A week of pure chaos, Charlotte turning into a star in just a few days ... but it happens. It happens. And I was happy. My husband was happy. Most of all, Charlotte was happy.

And then IT happened.

Charlotte has never stopped hating me since.

***

**First WattPad story! So very sorry it is a one-page chapter, 450 words more or less, but it came to a natural conclusion. This story may turn dark and dodgy later on, so be warned.

Eh heh heh!!

Love, Lucy xx