𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝...

Chapter 23

Charlotte was dead. 

He didn't want to believe it. 

He couldn't believe it. 

But here he stood, still, silent, his tears falling down his cheeks as he watched his new friend get lowered in her grave. 

He could hear Rosemary's quiet sobs, and pain struck him so quickly he nearly keeled over. His hand automatically inched towards his sister's, and he held it tightly, and she clutched at it like she, too, would fall over. 

"Jackson is stupid," said Charlotte as she looked him up and down, her frown prominent on her face. "I understand why you're not telling anyone, Will, but that doesn't mean why I can't punch his face. He deserves the makeover." 

"Just...don't hurt anyone," Will pleaded. "Especially not Jackson. He'll come back at you, like he did with me." 

But Charlotte was dead. Nothing could be worse than that. 

Tuberculosis. Why hadn't Charlotte told him? 

"Your secrets are mine," Charlotte told him when Will begged her not to tell anyone. "I won't tell. Not unless something really, really, really bad happens." 

"Fair enough," Will sighed. 

James stood by them, a lost look on his face. He had just lost his twin sister, the other half of himself. He just lost his best friend from his childhood. And Will knew what he was thinking. 

Why didn't I make amends? 

Will shut his eyes as they started burying Charlotte, throwing dirt to close her off forever. His knees buckled at the thought of Charlotte, so lively and...well, alive, being dead and pale. 

He sobbed, and now it was Rosemary holding him up. 

Charlotte was really, really dead. Not like how Rosemary had been, having a chance to survive. 

But Charlotte was gone. No coming back. 

He never got to say goodbye. 

He hadn't known—none of them had known, except Charlotte's mother, who had tears of acceptance running down her face. She had known for more than two months. She knew it was going to happen. But she hadn't been expecting it to happen so soon. 

Charlotte was dead. 

Charlotte, who cared for him. 

Charlotte, who texted him every day asking if he was okay when now he knew that she wasn't. 

Charlotte, who made him laugh whenever he felt terrible of himself and whenever he just wanted it all to end. 

Charlotte, who helped him and didn't leave him behind. 

He didn't care if the only reason Charlotte helped him was because he was Rosemary's brother. Rosemary would never have known if Charlotte hadn't helped him. 

"Why?" he whispered, a silent tear falling from his cheek to his lips, where he could taste the saltiness of it. "Why you?" 

He wished he had known her better. But the little time he had had with her, even though it was mostly her waiting outside the boy's bathroom, raving about killing Jackson—he loved her. Like how he loved Rosemary. 

It wasn't fair. 

The crowd was starting to disperse, and quiet murmurings filled the air. 

Condolences. 

Goodbyes. 

James had tears streaming down his face as he knelt down beside his twin's grave, a hand reached out toward her name. 

Charlotte Reidall

Beloved sister and daughter 

Rosemary was hunched over, her arms around her stomach like she'd been kicked. Maybe she had. 

Charlotte had died before 2:03 a.m., because when her mother had gone to check on her, she had found Charlotte with her eyes closed, a smile on her face, and her chest still. 

Charlotte had texted Rosemary at 2 a.m.—minutes before her death. 

Maybe she had felt it. Maybe she had felt her death creeping on her. 

Maybe she wanted to say goodbye. 

Maybe she just didn't have enough time. 

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. 

They would never know. 

Charlotte was dead. 

Charlotte was...gone. 

~Lyn

Words: 622

HEEEYA, WHO MISSED MEEEEEE? 

I finally came back!! Woohoooo. 

I don't know if I'll be staying for the next couple of days on Wattpad to write, so I'll maybe (?) spam you with some chapters today?? 

Maybe. Depends :p 

Anyway, damn. This was super sad. 

:(