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Chapter Part 33

Tyler Emery

I burst through the door into the Darkness, letting the misery envelope me as Charlotte's room fell away. Thoughts of my mother, my father, Drew, and my Charlotte overwhelmed my mind, choking me with their force, but this was welcome compared to the emotional turmoil I had been forced to witness all afternoon. I remembered my mom's smile, Drew's tendency to never finish a water bottle, and the way my dad always ruffled my hair when he'd sneak in my room before he went to work. I let go of thoughts of Charlotte crying in her room.

After Braylynn hurried out of the house, clutching her bag and wiping the tears from her eyes, Charlotte had locked herself in her parents' office. She had screamed at me and her dad to leave her alone when we tried to follow her, to listen to her, to put a bandaid on a gaping wound that we couldn't fix. I had run around the house helplessly, even solidifying my hand to knock on the door twice, but not a peep came from the office. Charlotte's dad was just as anxious, calling her mom and pacing the length of the dining room, back and forth, back and forth. He kept muttering Braylynn's name under his breath, then tensing and relaxing his hands. His bouillabaisse burned.

I ran through the Darkness, pumping my arms and forcing my feet faster, faster. My mother's laugh echoed in my ears, and it was like I could feel my dad gripping my upper, could hear him ask why I never did what I was supposed to. I pushed faster, racing through the misery. The Darkness was misery. It was where my demons came out to play and torment me, because I'd gotten better at pushing them away when I was with Charlotte.

Charlotte.

She'd eventually come out of the office, her face completely empty and devoid of emotion. Her father had offered her tea, ice cream, and fast food, but Charlotte had just brushed past him and walked calmly up to her room. I had followed her, shadowing her every step to make sure she didn't fall, didn't trip, but I didn't have to worry. Charlotte had sat at her desk doing her homework until about eight o'clock, which was when she got up and climbed into bed. I had poked her wrist, her shoulder, her ear, several times, but none elicited a response. Her face was as blank and flat as a piece of paper, and it gave nothing away.

I remembered my mom after she finally left my dad. She sat in random places around the house for weeks, sometimes curled up beside the toilet, others in the exact middle of the living. But no matter where she was, she had that blank look on her face, like she didn't have the energy to think, to exist. I hadn't understood it then, and if I was being honest, I didn't understand Charlotte now, but that didn't stop me from needing to try.

She found me. "Tyler?" I heard her whisper from several feet away. My heart leapt in my chest, and I immediately slowed down to a jog, then a stop. Her voice sounded weak, tired. After she had climbed into bed, I had hoped she would fall asleep immediately so that I could talk to her. But my little Charlotte had spent an hour with tears dripping down her face in a steady stream and a pillow clutched to her chest.

"Charlotte," I replied, the word coming out like a prayer: husky, deep, and half-whispered. I wanted to step forward and envelope her in a hug, to have her feel my arms and strength, but we'd only talked in the Darkness, and I had no idea if I even could.

She sniffled. "Some day, huh?" She let out a sarcastic laugh, and I could imagine her mouth quirking up on one side.

It had been a good day. Charlotte had gotten a hundred on a vocabulary quiz. I pushed a quarter five feet across a classroom. It had been a good day, but it had been ruined in a matter of minutes. And there was no way I could have stopped it.