breathe

chapter 4 | charlotte

Chapter Four

Charlotte

The first morning of the new semester came just two days after Dad's funeral that I missed. I couldn't believe how stupid I'd been to lose my chance to say goodbye. The guilt weighed heavily on me, causing me to retreat into a wordless haze.

Mom tried to convince me over breakfast the day before to go back to school with Ben. I pulled the blankets over my head in response, not wanting to face the day. She didn't push the issue further that morning.

When morning came on Monday, Ben reluctantly left my side to start his first day. Lizzie and Henry had gone back early to their school in Ann Arbor. Mom had job interviews and meetings to occupy her day. For the first time in weeks, I found myself completely alone in the empty house.

As the hours dragged on, my turbulent, out-of-control emotions only intensified. Desperate to numb the pain, I crept downstairs and rummaged through the kitchen cabinets. Finding nothing of use, I went to the basement, knowing Mom often hid things down there.

Behind some boxes, a suitcase caught my eye, and inside I discovered her alcohol stash. A nearly full bottle of vodka called out to me. I took a long gulp straight from the bottle, then carried it back to my room, seeking its blurring effects.

I sat in my hammock chair, taking slow sips of vodka as Mango nestled beside me. Stroking her soft fur, I waited for the alcohol's effects to take hold without fully numbing me. The pain had to fade, just a little, to let me breathe again.

As the anguish slowly dissipated, replaced by a comforting distance, I smiled. It was freeing to escape pain's constant grip, if only temporarily.

Nature called, so I headed to the bathroom and studied my pale, tired reflection in the mirror after washing my hands. My long, thick hair hung heavy down my back. An overwhelming feeling welled up that it was weighing me down too.

Returning to my desk, I grabbed the scissors from the drawer. Back in the bathroom, I gathered a chunk of hair and raised the blades. "Bye, bye hair," I whispered, cutting off the first length.

Snip by snip, the locks fell away as I gradually hacked it shorter and shorter. With each cut, more burden seemed to lift from my shoulders. But when only a small clump remained, I hesitated, not ready to fully let go just yet.

I set down the scissors, fingers curled around the last piece of my former self. My curls now loosely grazed my shoulders – lighter, but the pain was still there. For now, it would have to do.

Gathering up the long locks scattered on the tile, I nearly lost my balance in my weakened state. I set the hair on the vanity, taken aback by its length – over a foot and a half. Maybe donating it could help someone in need.

Mango jumped up beside me on the bed, her purring already easing my frazzled nerves. I glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was past two p.m. Had I really been lost in my memories for so many hours?

My stomach growled, but I had no energy to eat. Instead, I pulled out the vodka again with a weary sigh and took another sip, welcoming its numbing embrace. Laying back against the pillows, Mango curled atop my head, her tail flicking my cheek affectionately.

I unlocked my phone with shaky hands, dreading yet craving another glimpse at Dad's words. His texts, though bittersweet, brought me closer to him in his absence. As I reread our last exchange, tears welled in my eyes, mourning all we'd never share again.

vecchio 🦖

Good luck on finals today Bug

And I know your boyfriend's been sneaking into your room at night