35 ᴍᴍ ꜰɪʟᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ I 🎀 𝒢𝓇𝒶𝒸𝒾𝑒 𝒜𝒷𝓇𝒶𝓂𝓈 [𝑔𝓍𝑔] 🎀

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐀 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐) [𝐓𝐖]

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 12 [ᴛᴡ]

The steam from the shower curled lazily in the air as Charlie-Wren dried herself off, her mind still spinning from the pills she'd swallowed just minutes before. The dull numbness had begun to settle over her, smoothing the jagged edges of her anxiety, but it wasn't enough to quiet the weight of guilt building in her chest. She could feel it, lurking just beneath the surface. The guilt of pushing Gracie away, of hiding everything she'd been going through, and now, the certainty that she'd have to face it all.

She stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around her body, her heart racing as she spotted Gracie standing near the edge of her bed. Gracie's eyes weren't on her, though—they were fixed on the small pill bottle that lay discarded on the bedspread.

Charlie's pulse quickened as panic set in. She saw it.

"Charlie." Gracie's voice cut through the silence like a blade. She didn't even look up when she spoke. "What is this?"

Charlie's mind raced for an excuse, something to deflect the confrontation she knew was coming. She quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt, pulling them on hurriedly as Gracie continued to stand there, waiting for an answer. But the silence stretched on, heavy and thick.

"It's nothing," Charlie said finally, her voice tight, almost mechanical. "Just something to take the edge off. I've been... stressed."

Gracie's eyes flicked up to meet hers, the hurt and disbelief clear in her gaze. "Stressed?" she repeated, her voice laced with frustration. "Charlie, I'm not stupid. This isn't just stress. You've been distant for months. Every time I call, you tell me you're fine, but I can see it. You're not fine, and now I find these?" She gestured to the pill bottle, her hand trembling slightly. "This isn't okay."

Charlie swallowed hard, trying to hold onto the numbness the pills had given her. She moved quickly, shoving the bottle into her nightstand drawer, out of sight. "It's under control, okay? I've got it handled."

Gracie let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "Under control? Charlie, you've been lying to me for months! Every time I ask how you are, you act like everything's fine, but it's not! How long have you been taking these?"

Charlie didn't respond, her jaw clenching as she tried to gather herself. She couldn't afford to fall apart now—not in front of Gracie. The pills were supposed to help, supposed to keep her from feeling this. From spiralling.

"Charlie," Gracie pressed, her voice rising. "Answer me."

Charlie turned her back on Gracie, moving out of the bedroom and into the small kitchen space of her trailer. She couldn't stand being cornered like this. "I told you, it's not a big deal," she snapped, her patience thinning with every second. "I'm just trying to manage everything. The show is heavy, and it's messing with my head. You wouldn't get it."

"I wouldn't get it?" Gracie followed her, her voice rising with disbelief. "Charlie, you think I don't understand pressure? You think I haven't had to deal with stress? I've been there too, but this?" She gestured towards the bedroom where the pills were hidden. "This isn't the answer!"

Charlie spun around to face her, her frustration boiling over. "You don't know what it's like!" she shouted, her voice trembling with anger and desperation. "I'm losing it, Gracie! This role, this life, it's eating me alive. And I'm doing everything I can just to hold it together. So yeah, I'm taking something to help. It's not like I'm shooting up heroin!"

"That's not the point!" Gracie fired back, her voice shaking now too, her eyes wide with emotion. "You're shutting me out! You're pretending like everything's fine when it's not. You're lying to me! I don't even know who you are anymore!"