We Broke

t h i r t y - n i n e

I'll admit it.

The more and more I dig through Charlotte's envelope of stuff, I find more and more stuff that I don't like.  I see stuff that just support that my parents were criminals.  

And I can't believe it.  I won't.  I will not.  

I see newspapers and surveillance pictures.  I see all these things that tell me that my parents are not who they seemed to be.

But I have one question that keeps bubbling into my brain.  I have this feeling that Charlotte started collecting this project before she met me.  So why are my parents involved in all of this?  They were connected in some way or another. My family and Charlotte's family.  A feud?  A scandal?  

I seriously don't know what to think.  I'm dealing with some serious stuff, I'm so convinced to call George.  Just get it over with.  To have this lifted off my shoulders.  

But I also know that it would still weigh me down.  The thought that I rejected Charlotte's last request would completely break me down.  It would constantly be ringing in my head every freaking second, telling me that I did the wrong thing.  I would regret it.  So much that I would end up a mess.  

I know people say that no one knows you better than yourself, but now, I think no one knows anything about me.  Including myself. 

I wish that I could just yell to Charlotte and she would answer.  Call her and she would answer all of my questions.  But I also know that even if she was still alive, she probably wouldn't answer my questions without some hefty begging.

It's been almost three days, and I've spent hours looking at each piece of paper.  Probably not the most thorough, but to the best of my ability.  

Most of the stuff don't really connect, as I said, but I've left aside a pile of papers connecting to my family and Charlotte's.

I just need to look them through carefully.  And actually process the stuff and act upon it.  I feel like Sherlock Holmes for no reason.  But Sherlock was actually smart.  

The fact that Charlotte's gone is slamming me in the face every single freaking second.  I've lost the numbness.  And I feel these pangs deep in my throat that lead all the way down to my stomach.    

Regret.  

Guilt. 

Devastating Sadness.  

I know I said I wanted to feel pain, but now, I kind of wish I didn't.  Because what I'm truly wishing is that Charlotte would be right here next to me, sorting through this stuff with me.

-

I pick up a piece of paper, which I vaguely remember.  It's a list of stuff about my mother.  It's dated to when my parents were still alive.  I must be around the age of 12.   

Elisabeth Madden

Has a kid.  My age maybe?

Her photo was in my dad's office.  Maybe a client?

Caught in a surveillance tape running in an alleyway.  Looks frantic.  

She has a file about her in my dad's office.  Haven't had much time to read it.  

I dig through the pile of papers, once again, looking for a file.  Fishing out a piece of manilla folder that has my mother's name written on the side of it, I remember seeing the file a few hours ago while sorting everything out.  I open it.  

It's a pretty thick packet, but there's also a lot a blank, empty space.  I yank out a paper clip which is holding most of it together.

It's not really a file of prosecutor information.

It's more like a stalker profile.  There's images of her taken from street cameras, there's information about her every feature.  

Height.

Weight. 

Hair color.  Eye color.

Her every date she went on.

Charlotte's father was obsessed with my MOTHER?  This doesn't sound right at all.  

At this point, nothing is making sense.  I should probably get used to it.

I slam the file down, my head and hands trembling with a mixture of confusion and slight anger.  But I also remember that some of this evidence points to my parents being criminals. 

Something happened between them.  And somehow, I've ended up in the position to find out about this all.  

The weird thing is, most people would love this type of stuff.  The idea of solving a mystery that involves aspects that don't really connect together.  A murderer.  Criminals.  A prosecutor.  But for some reason, I don't want to.  I don't want to see what's buried under all of this. 

Deciding to move on, I pick up another looseleaf piece of paper.  This time, it's a poster.

NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH

BE AWARE OF MIDDLE AGED FEMALE AND MALE.  SEEN BREAKING AND ENTERING.

FEMALE:  HEIGHT- 5'6, BROWN HAIR, GREEN EYES

MALE:  HEIGHT- 6'1, BLOND HAIR, BLUE EYES

REWARD OF $300

REPORT TO POLICE IF SPOTTED.

But it's not some sort of breaking and entering criminals.  They are my parents.  There's a picture of them holding hands and running in the street.  

And this is the point where I realized that my parents were actually criminals.  Every single paper, every single letter, every single list.  

I'm pretty sure Charlotte knew this too.

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm myself down.  But I can't.  I simply can't. 

She probably wanted to get close to me.  To tell me that my parents were criminals.  That they were murdered by some Liam Smith.  That my mother had something to do with Charlotte's dad.

I thought we were friends.  With a chance with being something more.  And I really did think that she thought the same.  But maybe her motives were different.  Maybe her motives were to hurt me.  To hurt everyone so that they would feel the same hurt she felt in every single second of her lost life.

Revenge.  

That's the freaking word.  I know where Julie's getting her anger from now.  

I've opened my eyes to the real picture.  

She's dead now.  And she's still managed to get to my head.    

AN-

I know it's going pretty slow.  I know it.  I'm sorry.

But-

A few days ago, I found out that I can't have kids.  And Liam doesn't know.  I've been just crying in my bed and sulking.  

I'm stupid.  

My life's a mess and all I can think to do is update, but even my stupid brain can't think of anything.