Scarred

Chapter 12

When Charlotte woke up, she was lying in a comfy bed with a large patchwork quilt. The room was spacious with worn wooden floors and a high ceiling. The wallpaper was chipped in places but where it wasn't, it was covered in colorful flowers.

Her unfamiliar surroundings jolted her fully awake. The pain from her various injuries hit her then, bringing the memories flooding back. She swung her legs over the bed and noticed the window across from her. Panic filled her when she noted the growing darkness. Her dad had no idea where she was.

She found her phone on the bedside table and dialed his number with shaking hands. She formed an explanation but threw it away when he picked up.

"Charlotte, where are you?" he demanded.

She wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in her throat. It was easier to avoid the question. "I'm fine. I'll be coming home soon."

"Where are you?" he repeated.

"I'm on my way. I'll see you when I get home. Bye."

"Charlotte, don't—" She hung up on him and closed her eyes.

A creak in the floorboards startled her and her gaze landed on her mysterious savior. "Sam?" she gasped.

She smiled nervously, perching on the edge of the bed. "Yeah, this is my family's farm. How are you feeling?"

"Thirsty."

Sam handed her a glass of water, and as Charlotte gulped it down, Sam explained the situation, "You only had minor injuries, otherwise we would've gotten you real medical help."

Charlotte nodded. Sam traced circles on the blanket absentmindedly and asked, "What happened out there?"

Remembering how distant she had been lately, Charlotte didn't know if she could trust her. She was willing to listen though, and that was all the encouragement she needed.

She recounted the whole story, not just that night but everything she'd been withholding for months. Charlotte told her about how her mom died, the move to the Midwest, and the texts she got from Kenneth. Sam remained quiet the entire time, and only stopped her when she began crying as she related the events of that night.

There was another lull in the conversation. Sam broke it. "I guess I should tell you my story then."

"Only if you want to," Charlotte replied cautiously, not wanting her to feel pressured yet dying to hear.

"I do."

Then Sam told her why she had to move. She was fifteen and not thinking when she had sent a naked picture of herself to the guy she liked. The guy sent it to his friends who sent it to theirs and so on until everyone in the school had seen the picture. Sam was harassed for a year before she was brave enough to tell her parents. They persuaded her to finish out her sophomore year, and the bullying became worse, but summer arrived and her family moved to Trimont. Sam was able to start over.

"Didn't you want to, you know . . . do stuff?" Charlotte asked.

"Do you mean self-harm? I'll admit that I cut a couple times, but the urges faded away after I moved. I've been clean for a long time now." Her shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. "Honestly, the only reason I didn't kill myself was because I believed that there was something out there for me. I don't know what that is yet, but there's got to be a reason for my existence."

Sam's eyes were raw with emotion. It was the most vulnerable Charlotte had seen her, and it made the trust she'd been doubting click into place.

"I don't know what to do, Sam."