Charlie's Web

Charlie

I plopped myself down on the edge of Carol's bed, letting my legs swing back and forth as I expertly applied black liner in a thick wing to the outer edge of my eye. Ben would be picking us up for the party at nine, so we still had an hour to sit and chat. C was distraught over Isaiah, the creepy choker man, because of course she was. They'd been arguing on the phone for about twenty minutes now. I'd always been extremely proficient at tuning out bickering though, I guess I could thank Vivian for that lovely ability. Carol turned to me, her eye makeup was running in streaks down her pale face, and her foundation seemed to be separating and caking around her nose and cheeks. Swiftly standing up, I grabbed a makeup wipe from her desk and wiped her tear-stained face, making sure to stay within her t-zone. She sat there like a doll, unmoving as I fixed her back up, reapplying her moisturizer and foundation, making sure her eyeliner and brows were filled in properly.

"There you go. See, everythings fine. You look amazing," I pulled a compact mirror out of my pocket and turned it towards her. Her watery brown eyes scanned her reflection, her expression still full of sorrow. She looked up at me, giving me a weak smile and nodding her head.

"Thank you, Charlie. I'm sorry, I know I always do this. It's just so hard, I really like Isaiah. I don't understand why he treats me so badly," The ginger haired girl sniffled quietly, she brought her pointer fingers up to her eyes, wiping the tears away before they could reach her skin.

"Don't apologize. I just wish you could see for yourself how wonderful you are," I brushed a red curl out of her face, cupping her cheek in my small hand. She rose from her chair, enveloping me in a bear hug. We stayed like that for a few minutes, I could tell that she needed someone to comfort her.

Suddenly I broke away from her and reached into my left pocket, my fingers immediately coming into contact with a small plastic baggy. I pulled it out, glancing down at the four small white pills. I'd swiped them from Vivian's room a few days ago, she'd been my own personal supplier since I was around thirteen. She'd never noticed, at least not that I knew of. Most of the time she probably just assumed she'd taken extra and forgotten about it. I didn't feel the slightest bit of guilt, if she was keeping that shit in her house, then she could've been hiding it a lot better. It wasn't my fault that she was so stupid.

Caroline looked up at me warily, her eyes full of concern. I looked back at her, shrugging my shoulders. Everyone had their vice, C happened to date men who treated her like trash, I stole my mothers pills every once in a while. Potato patato.

"You want one?" I inquired, holding the baggie in front of her face.

"What is it?"

"Xanax."

I opened the bag and dropped one of the pills onto my palm, even though I'd done it before it still gave me a small rush. I grabbed a small plastic water bottle off of C's large vintage cherry wood vanity. It looked regal, like something a princess from a disney movie would've owned, the top had intricately carved flowers and filigree, while the bottom looked sturdy and contained multiple drawers. Her parents were well off, there was no denying that. Anyone could tell just from looking at her house. It was large and white, with huge, glorious columns stretching up to the patio. Her home was always spotless, as if her parents had a maid to follow them around and sweep every crumb that dropped from their thin, privileged mouths. Her room seemed to be the size of my whole house, and occasionally I became jealous. She had access to anything she could ever dream of, she would always have a safety net. One that I could simply never imagine having. It wasn't fair of me to think that way, though. C had it worse than any of us, her relationship with her mother was strained, and her father was practically a ghost in her life. When she was younger, her father would come into her room at night. She told me he would kiss her on the mouth and tell her how much he loved her, she thought that was how all Daddy's showed love, because he'd conditioned her over time. One night, her mother walked in, watching in shock as she saw her husband commit the most revolting acts of violence against his own daughter. She was furious, she stormed into the room, grabbing her husband by his thinning gray hair and smacking him hard in the face. Caroline had told me that she would never forget the look her mother had given her that night, a look of pure betrayal and resentment. That night, she'd assumed her mother would've comforted her, held her in her arms and whispered sweet lullabies and rocked her to sleep. But instead she'd laid awake, all alone, until the orange sun slowly rose into the sky, her shirt and pajama bottoms still crumpled on the floor where her father had thrown them earlier in the night. She thought that her mother catching them would finally cause an end to her torture. And even though her father no longer came into her room at night, her relationship with her mother had been ruined. She seemed almost jealous of her daughter for receiving attention from her husband. Any chance she got she would put Caroline down, whether it was calling her ugly or worthless and stupid.

And on occasion, she would still have to face her father. Most times she couldn't stand it, she'd run all the way to my house. He was away on business for a large chunk of the year, but she told me that having to hug him and address him as her father was worse than anything she'd ever experienced. I shook my head, no longer wanting to think about her childhood. We were similar in a lot of ways, and it was so easy to put myself in her position. To feel the terror and fear she must've felt during those lonely nights, fear of the man that should've been her protector.

"Can I get a half?" Her feathery voice snapped me out of my daze. I nodded, pulling a small green pill cutter out of my bag. I handed her the small piece that I'd split off and she swallowed it easily. Taking the rest for myself, I chased with a small bit of water.

"Ben's here," C called out, rushing to throw a few random items into her purse. I stopped in front of her mirror, checking my outfit one more time before we left. I'd chosen a small black skirt with some fleece-lined tights as the weather had grown much colder recently, and my top was a simple oversized hoodie I'd stolen from Vivian. There was no reason to dress up for things like this, hopefully the night would go by quickly. I couldn't wait to be in the comfort of my own bed.