Scarred

Chapter 1

It wasn't the storm that woke her up. Or the dogs barking next door. Or even the almost constant stream of trains blaring their horns as they pass through town. It was the creaking on the stairs leading down to her room.

The late night visits were expected now, almost regular ever since they moved in a month ago.

Charlotte sat up and waited.

The first night she heard the footsteps she had reacted much differently.

She had been on the brink of falling asleep when she heard the stairs creak. Heart pounding against her ribcage, she wondered if she had imagined it. Then the stairs creaked and creaked again and again until they reached her door. She sprang from her bed and prepared to defend herself against whatever was coming for her.

The door inched open. Charlotte tensed but lowered the book when her sister peeked around the door.

"What's the matter?" asked Charlotte.

Jenna never answered her. It was impossible through her tears. Charlotte dropped the would-be weapon on her bedside table and wrapped her sister in a hug.

Finally Jenna whispered, "She's gone."

"I miss her, too," confided Charlotte.

"It's not fair," Jenna said into her shoulder.

"Shh, I know. I know," she consoled. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

She did.

Now, her sister walked into her room without a second thought and climbed into bed with her.

"Another dream?" Charlotte asked.

Jenna nodded.

"That's the third time this week." She stroked her sister's hair. Ever since their mother had passed, Jenna had been having nightmares. Charlotte didn't know what they were about—Jenna never told her. She often wondered if they were similar to the ones she had.

"I don't want to have these dreams," she mumbled.

"I know." Neither do I.

Jenna stared up at her, eyes pleading. "Will you sing for me?" With her big eyes and chubby cheeks, she could be mistaken for seven instead of eleven going on twelve.

She cleared her throat. "The usual?"

Jenna nodded and settled into a comfortable position.

Charlotte rubbed her sister's back and sang their mother's lullaby. It didn't take long for Jenna to fall asleep. She carefully slid her hand under her pillow and allowed herself to drift off only once she had touched the wrinkled envelope.

****

A week later, someone thought it would be a good idea to turn on her lights at eight in the morning. Charlotte squeezed her eyes shut and hid under her pillow.

Jenna climbed onto her bed and whined, "Charlotte, get up. We have to start celebrating your birthday."

"What time is it?"

"It's already eight." Her annoying sister plucked the pillow off her face and grinned brightly. "Let's go!"

Charlotte groaned again but caved in and sat up. She had muddled through enough birthdays to learn that Jenna was too impatient and persistent to let her sleep in. She yawned and stretched. "So what's first?"

Jenna clapped. "Dad made you cinnamon rolls and you're going to let me have one, right?" She flashed her angelic smile.

"Don't even try it, dude."

Jenna complained momentarily before running after Charlotte. "What if I give you one on my birthday?"

"You said that last year and guess what? You didn't give me one, and I am not falling for it again."

Her sister pouted on their way into the kitchen. She plopped down at the table and crossed her arms. "You can't blame me for trying."

Charlotte hugged her father.

"Happy birthday, kid. How does it feel to be seventeen?"

"Like sixteen, but less sleep."

Charlotte took a seat across from Jenna and laid her head on the table. Before she could drift back to sleep, her sister was there to shove her awake.

Yawning, she sat up and awaited her cinnamon rolls. The smell was overwhelmingly delicious and the rolls were drowning in frosting, the best part. Her frustration with her sister lessened a bit when she took her first bite.

As she licked her fingers to scavenge what was left, her father called, "Charlotte, will you come outside?"

She bolted to the door. Her dad had been circling car ads in the newspaper for weeks. She prayed that it was the convertible. She would have no problem making new friends if she rolled up to school in that on the first day.

"Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthank—" She halted when she laid her eyes on the monstrosity that called itself a car.

"Well? Isn't it snazzy?" Her dad grinned and handed her the keys.

"It's something alright." She reluctantly accepted the keys to what had to be the most used car in existence. Maybe she'll grow to find the duct tape on the bumper and the massive dent on the side endearing?

"What are you going to name it?"

"Name it?" She shot her dad the look every teenager had mastered and saved for moments like this. "Dad, I'm not twelve."

"It's a Harris tradition to name your first car. You can't break tradition."

Charlotte turned back to the eyesore. "What did you name yours?"

"Bono." He grinned. "I was a bit of a fanboy back in the day. You know, your mother and I met at one of their concerts. She was dancing and—"

"And she tripped and would have fallen if you hadn't been there to catch her. Then you looked into her beautiful eyes and could have sworn that time stopped," Charlotte monotoned. "You've only told that story what, 1,386,542 times?"

He whapped her upside the head lovingly. "Pick a name already."

She pursed her lips. "Its name is Dave."

"Dave? Why not try something fiercer? Sylvia would be a good one. Or maybe Brad?"

"Dave, Dad. His name is Dave." Charlotte stroked the hood of the car then regretted it when her hand came back covered in dirt. Well, at least it could drive. "Wait. This car works, right?"

"Of course, I drove it here."

Charlotte climbed in and turned the key in the ignition. It sputtered and died. "I don't think it does."

Her dad motioned her out and got in. He turned the key and got the same results. "Shit—Uh, I mean shoot. It doesn't." He gave her a hapless smile. "I'll get you a new car, sweetie."

Charlotte smiled at her luck and strolled back inside.

And that's how she ended up with a mini-van for her birthday.

*******

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