"Charlotte, are you coming or what?" A voice calls from downstairs, expecting me to answer almost instantly.
I straighten my spine from being slouched for too long in my chair.
Why can't they just leave my alone?
They know I'll say-
"CHARLOTTE!" The voice shouts, clearly impatient and breaking my thoughts.
Standing up too swiftly, the rusty chair falls back, hitting the ground with a thud. Ignoring the sound and the position of the chair, I've decided.
I'm going with him.
Plodding towards my wardrobe, I stretch my bandaged arms.
Why do I still need these bandages? Surely they've fully healed- Stop getting distracted Charlotte, just get ready and go see Irish.
Keeping on track, I open my wardrobe slowly, the smell of dust fills my nostrils. I haven't done anything for the past year... Just eat, sleep... And think.
Eat, sleep, think, and repeat.
A deafening slam of a knock is created on my door, surely it's Irish.
"HURRY UP, CHARLOTTE!" He shouts from the other side of the door, enraged.
"God dammit Irish, be patient!" I shout back at him, quickly changing into some decent clothing; a black worn-out trench coat, over a ripped white t-shirt, dark green combat pants with many pockets for essentials, and black combat boots. I look at the cracked mirror bolted into the wall, looking back at myself. My knotted black hair has grown down to my waist, my skin has gotten paler, however I've unfortunately kept my small height. I slam my wardrobe shut, instantly regretting it because of the pain shooting into my arms. Holding my arms for a moment, gaining my strength soon after. I walk towards the door and pause.
My guns... Just in case.
I turn around and walk to a chest of drawers, pulling the top drawer open. Grabbing my dusty Mendel, I dust it then holster it in the side-pocket of my pants. I grab my tarnished tomahawk and place it in the inside pocket of my trench coat. I turn around once again and step towards the door, gripping the rusty door knob, I hesitate.
I haven't seen Irish in months... I avoided him as much as possible, I hope he didn't take it personally... Well he should, but not too personally.
I twist the door knob, opening the door slowly.
YOU ARE READING
The Flash
ActionLight. It can either allow your vision or disable it; via blinding you. It's harsh either way. you'd be able to see your nightmares in front of you with your own eyes, if not you would feel their presence. When there is light, there is darkness. Whe...
