In the seeming chaos of high school, Charlie has always watched from the sidelines, his keen eye behind the lens of his camera capturing fleeting moments of beauty and ugliness alike. Since losing his grandmother, his world has grown colder, a mere...
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*A/N: New chapter! I really hope you like it, a lot happens in it. I am pretty proud of it. I might be able to finish the book by this weekend and then start my Hunger Games fanfic. I am so excited for the story you guys and I hope you will love it too!
*Play the songs when mentioned (if you want)
I Don't Want To Talk: https://youtu.be/jKvvoaNqOuc?feature=shared
The Sign (Pitch Perfect Style): https://youtu.be/mZIjRkND-9k?feature=shared
The Night We Met: https://youtu.be/zo0mm1XXz1E?feature=shared
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There was always a sense of dread that settled over me whenever I heard my mom and dad fighting. You would think they were hyenas squabbling over the last scraps of food at this point. I was terrified of waking up to find my mom lying on the ground, cold and lifeless, her breathing ragged like that of a wounded creature. I would stand there, paralyzed, wondering if she had a pulse or if she was simply dead. What would I do then? I often felt selfish for thinking this way. It was like being a dark passenger in a house that seemed so cold, though my mom's warmth was like a flickering candle in the darkness—present but only as a shadow of herself.
I couldn't sleep while they fought. I couldn't live with myself if I had to find my mom the next morning feeble and weak, simply waiting to be put out of her misery. I flinched at the sound of flesh meeting skin, closing my eyes tightly as I pondered my existence in this world and in this room. What did I live for in the end? It had been a week since the last... incident, and honestly, things couldn't be better. My dad wasn't around as much, either off at his shop or drinking with his loser buddies. Most nights, he just passed out drunk on the couch, too inebriated to pick a fight with my mom. I slept well last night. Coincidence? I think not. It felt like the past week had brought me some much-needed solace, but it couldn't compare to what my mom was going through.
The school dance was tonight, and I was downright terrified of what it could mean and what could happen. On the other hand, my mom appeared happier than I'd seen her in a while. I think she didn't expect me to go, but when she realized I would be going, she looked so proud. I couldn't change my mind about going; I wouldn't do that to her. The thought brought a small smile to my lips as I faced her, dressed to the nines in my tuxedo.
"What are you smiling for?" she asked, a smile ever-present on her lips as she snapped what felt like a trillion pictures of me.
"Nothing," I said, my eyes softening at my mother's excitement.
Suddenly, a loud rumble sounded outside. I smiled as I trudged toward the window, seeing Maya's sturdy truck waiting—a beacon of warmth amidst the cold December air. I turned toward my mother, embracing her tightly, never wanting to let go. "I have to go !" I exclaimed with a smile on my face, grabbing my thin coat and putting it on, making sure not to forget my camera and Dylan's jersey—I had to give it back someday.
