Scarred

Chapter 31

"I blame myself. I should've done something. I should've known." Charlotte had allowed Anthony to guide her out of the bathroom to the living room, away from the razor. She had her head in his lap now, staring past him at the ceiling.

"But—"

"I saw her diary one night, Anthony," she said. "I should've mentioned it to someone. I should've talked to her. But I didn't and it's my fault--"

"Stop it. It was her choice. Whether you saying something would've helped or not, we'll never know. You found it within yourself to forgive Raelynn somehow. Why can't you forgive yourself?"

"It's not just me. I'm mad at her."

"That's understandable."

"Do I have to forgive her, too?" Charlotte already knew the answer to that question.

"You don't switch on forgiveness. Sometimes it takes years to truly forgive someone. I haven't forgiven my mother for leaving me with my dad. I accepted it a long time ago, but I'm only now starting to forgive her." Then he asked her the question she'd been dreading to hear from him: "Have you told your dad yet?"

She contemplated lying to avoid a lecture, but the angel on her shoulder won. "No, I can't. Not after Jenna. It would destroy him to think that he might've been without both his daughters."

"He still needs to know."

"I can't do it, Anthony. He'd blame himself."

Anthony must have known he wouldn't convince her because he didn't chase the topic.

She said, "Thanks for coming over. It's hard without her." She smiled and squeezed his hand. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Before he left, Anthony made sure that she wouldn't hurt herself. "Call me, okay? I don't care if it's two in the morning or two in the afternoon. I'll answer."

"I'll be fine." Charlotte pushed him out the door after a peck on the lips.

She faced the empty house. Jenna's shoes lay untouched by the door, her bookbag in the corner. The darkness was on the edges, threatening to press in. She shook her head, clearing the thoughts from her mind as she entered the kitchen.

Charlotte licked her fingers and finally erased the drawing of their stick-figure family after years of failed attempts.

****

"If anyone would like to share any memories you have of Jenna, feel free to come up and do so," the minister announced at Jenna's memorial service.

When no one else stood, Charlotte smoothed down her dress—the same one she wore to her mother's funeral—and accepted the microphone. She swept her gaze across the room and regretted it immediately when sympathetic tears formed in her eyes.

She took another moment to collect herself and said, "I'd like to start by thanking everyone for coming. It means a lot to us." She paused to decide what to share. "Jenna was a sweet girl. She cared about other people. The fact that she cared so much probably led up to . . . all of this. She was easy to scare, too. I remember once Jenna refused to leave her room for a day because she'd seen a spider in the hallway. And she hated storms. Whenever it thundered during the night, she'd come into my room and ask if she could sleep with me."

Charlotte smiled as a few people chuckled. She wiped her eyes and continued, "When I'd heard the news, I didn't believe it. It didn't seem right that my sister had done that. It didn't feel real. I had driven her to school that morning. We had jammed out to the radio. But when I arrived at the hospital, it hit me that I was going to lose my best friend."

You trusted her, but she couldn't trust you, the voice taunted.

She looked at the picture of Jenna that was setting on the table, surrounded by roses. The picture they took at Christmas was there, too, along with their last picture with their mom. 

The tears she'd been holding back threatened to spill. She choked out, "I'm so sorry, Jenna. Happy Birthday."

She held her chin high on her way back, but the instant she was seated again, the torrent fell down her face.

****

Charlotte stood with her family in silence. The Pennsylvania air was chilly and moist, making it the perfect day for a funeral—if there was one. She stared past the casket at the lines of graves, pushing the loud sniffles to the back of her mind and listening for the birds and the wind. Her method didn't prevent her tears from falling. It didn't keep her from remembering that it was her baby sister in there.

She squeezed her eyes shut, seeing the tiny explosions of yellow and experiencing the ache in her chest in its entirety.

She couldn't take it anymore.

Charlotte stepped forward and touched the dark wood gingerly. The ribbons were purple, her favorite color. She pressed her lips against the casket and sang the lullaby their mother used to sing, unmindful of her hiccups.

Her father's hand on her shoulder broke through the numbness. His eyes were red and he somehow found the strength to put on a smile for her. Before she left, she whispered to her sister, "I love you."

Her father guided her to her mother's grave. She imagined her mother and Jenna together somewhere. He laid down a single rose before patting the gravestone and walking away. She followed her father to the car, humming the lullaby.

****

Charlotte crossed her legs then uncrossed them. She rubbed her unconcealed scars anxiously. Anthony placed a hand on her thigh and reassured her with a nod. She confided, "I don't think I can do this, Anthony."

"You can. I'll be right here." He insisted, "He needs to know, baby."

She nodded. At that moment, her father and Julie entered. "Will you sit?" she asked. "I need to tell you something."

Her dad glanced between her and Anthony. " . . . Sure."

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'm not pregnant."

He relaxed. "Oh, good. Um, so what were you going to tell us?"

Charlotte held Anthony's hand for support. She had gone through this moment in her head a countless amount of times yet she was still unsure of how to begin. "Remember the night when I had a split lip and I was acting strange?"

He nodded. "What about it?"

Invisible hands wrapped around her neck. She opened her mouth to continue, but she choked on her words. She forced the words out of her raw throat. "I didn't run into a door. Some girls from school brought me out into the country and beat me up." Before he interrupted, she said, "That's not all." Before her mouth could refuse to work, she told him the rest. She mangled Anthony's hand in her grip but he never complained, even encouraging her when she had to collect herself.

"I-I'm sorry for not telling you before. And after Jenna . . . you needed to know."

Her dad hugged her tight and whispered, "I'm happy you're still here, sweetie. Don't apologize."

Charlotte sobbed into her dad's shirt. The weight that had been bearing her down for more than a year finally lifted itself off her chest. For the first time in a long time, she was free.

********

little mix is actually so underrated.