Dear Emmett

Chapter Three - [Aunt Lauren.]

The dining room was quiet.

I sat across from my mother and Chris, looking down at my lap. I could see the disappointment clear on their face. Neither of them had really said anything, though. The room was full of tension, and I expected it to blow at any second. Like a ticking time bomb.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

The question came from Chris, who was glaring at me the worst. I knew I'd done it then – I had finally given him the ammo to dislike me with a justified reason. I swallowed back the sarcastic answer I'd wanted to snap back at him. That would do me no good now.

“I didn't mean for this to happen.”

My voice was low and shaky, as calm as I could keep it. Chris narrowed his eyes at me, his voice raising.

“It doesn't matter that you didn't mean for this to happen, Charlotte. It did.”

“What are you going to do, Charlotte?” My mother asked, her voice dangerously calm.

“I don't know,” I answered.

“It's not okay to just not know,” She responded quickly. “You're seventeen years old. I knew I shouldn't have let you go on that Spring Break trip.”

I sighed heavily, putting my elbows on the table and my head in my hands.

“I'm just so scared.”

“You don't think I am too?” My mother asked, her voice rising a few octaves. “My teenage daughter is going to have a baby. Who's the father, Charlotte? That Marcus guy that's constantly hitting on you?”

I snorted with laughter, appalled that she thought that.

“You actually think I'd be stupid enough to sleep with him, Mom?”

“You sure were stupid enough to land yourself in this situation,” Chris answered for her.

I glared at him.

“I wasn't talking to you,” I hissed. “You're not my father, and you never will be.”

“Charlotte!” My mother warned, but I didn't care. I wanted to offend him. I could only imagine what he'd say when I was out of the room.

The room was quiet for a long moment, before Chis spoke. His voice was firm and cold.

“I think you need to get rid of it.”

I raised my eyebrows, shocked. I stood up, standing behind the chair and pushing it in. Gripping the wooden back harder than I needed to, I responded. My voice was bitter.

“Do you know how they do abortions, Chris?” I asked slowly, trying to keep my voice level. I was shaking with fury. “They suck the baby out, like a god damn vacuum. I have a child inside of me. A living child. Not some piece of dirt on the fucking floor.”

“Charlotte, that is enough!” My mother shouted. Chris stood up, knocking his chair back in the process.

“I demand an apology.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I spat.

With out another word, I grabbed my keys off of the counter and stormed out of the house. I was still shaking, I was so mad. I drove to Katie's house, but it was a blur. When I got there, I didn't bother knocking. We had long since passed using that formality.

Katie let me rant, too. She hardly said a word as I paced back and forth in her room, my voiced raised as I told her the story of what happened.

“You said that to him, Char? Damn.”