Shattered

Sixteen

Charlie's POV

I was in New York. I didn't tell anybody I was leaving. It was chilly, and a dusting of snow covered the sidewalk, already gray slush in the streets. I was wearing a black sweatshirt under my leather jacket, and I had the hood up and my hands in my pockets.

I was there for one reason and one reason alone. I didn't want to do it, and I knew Dallas wouldn't have wanted it, but I knew it was the right thing to do.

I stopped in front of the apartment building, and stared up at the sky. A few snowflakes drifted into my eyes and caught on my eyelashes.

My chest throbbed where I'd been shot. I'd been out of the hospital for three weeks and I still wasn't completely healed- I wasn't supposed to work out, to walk too much, or to overexert myself, but I did anyway.

With a heavy sigh, I went inside and walked up several flights of stairs to reach the top floor until I reached the door I was lookin' for.

I knocked before I let my arm fall back to my side. I heard the sound of the lock being undone.

"Who are you?" A woman demanded. She had long, dark hair and angry blue eyes, and there were age lines on her face. She was short, and had a sharp, mean, face.

"It's been a few years, ain't it, ma?" I said quietly, and her face went soft.

"Charlie?" She whispered, gently cupping my face. "It's been..."

"Nine years." We had first run away when I was seven and Dally was nine. For three years, we were separated, until he found me when he was twelve and I was ten, and we found ourselves in Tulsa.

"Where's Dallas?"

I inhaled sharply and closed my eyes as I stepped away. "That's... why I'm here."

.

I sat across from her and my dad in an armchair.

My dad was a tall guy, with white blond hair and dark brown eyes. He didn't look mean, but he was one of the few people I was scared of.

"So, Charles." He said in his thick French accent (Dallas and I had learned French Before English, since Dad was from France). I couldn't meet his eyes. My hands were shakin' and I was breathin' quicker. "Where is your brother?"

"He... is dead." I closed my eyes and braced for him to hit me. "He was killed."

I heard Mom start crying, and I hated myself for feeling bad for her.

"What do you mean, he's dead?" Dad demanded. "Who killed him?"

"The police."

"Then he got what he deserved. You and him are nothing but no-good hoods. I wish you'd been killed by that damn gang!" He shouted at me, and I grabbed my jacket and stormed off, sprinting down the stairs.

My chest ached, and I knew I was pushing myself too much, but the faster I was outta New York, the better.

I stole a car and tore off down the road. Someone yelled after me, but didn't follow, so I stepped on the gas. I took backroads so I wouldn't get pulled over.

.

Two days later and I was back in Oklahoma. I ditched the car as soon as I was in the state and wiped my prints and train hopped my way back to Tulsa.

"Where the hell have you been?" Steve demanded as soon as he saw me. I forgotten I'd given him a key to my apartment.

I immediately felt awful that I hadn't told him, but I'd been emotional enough. I wasn't gonna get all vulnerable again. "Out,"

"For four fuckin' days? Christ, Charlie, I've been worried about you!" He yelled, and I flinched, but either he didn't notice or he didn't care. "You're sixteen! You can't just disappear like that!"

I was shaking again, and I hated hated hated that tears were welling up in my eyes, but I hoped that if I didn't blink, then they wouldn't fall.

"Goddammit," I hissed, rubbing angrily at my eyes.

Am I seriously cryin' just 'cause Steve yelled at me? What would Dally think? He'd probably tell me to stop being a baby.

"What?" He asked in a cold tone, but then he realized I was crying. "Fuck. I'm sorry, I- I didn't mean to make you cry,"

"I shouldn't have gone back to New York, man," I said bitterly. "I shoulda known my parents wouldn't give a fuck either way, but I just had to do the right thing, didn't I?"

"Charlie..." he gently took my hand and I didn't pull away. He enveloped me in a tight hug and let me cry into his shoulder for a while.