Sweet Charlotte

「 eighteen: decided instants 」

"We need to report him." They were the words Willow was dreading hearing, but had known were coming.

Willow closed her eyes and curled deeper into Seth's bed; sheets wound around her and a cup of homemade soup in her palms. Occasionally, she released the mug's warmth for long enough that she could scoop a spoonful into her mouth and savor it before hugging the mug again. She had to admit, she didn't peg Seth as the type to make a killer — and quick — chicken noodle soup, but he proved her wrong.

"We don't need to do that," she said.

Seth bristled at the statement. "What are you talking about? Of course we do."

Willow refused to look at him and mixed her soup. "We really don't. It's not that big of a deal."

"Not that big of a deal?" Seth repeated. Willow closed her eyes, knowing this was the brink of an argument. One she really didn't want to have. "Will, he spiked your drink with alcohol because he thought it would 'loosen you up' to talk to him. We can't let him get away with that."

"I don't care."

"The other girls he tries that on will."

That caused her shoulders to tense, her eyes to close, her demeanor to crack. She hated that argument. She saw it all the time online. She hated it the most because it was accurate; one calling her to action. With a clink, she abandoned her spoon in her mug. "I can't."

Seth blinked, staring at her from the other side of the room. He'd been standing by their bulletin board, stabbing Aeron's name with tacks and pins. "What?" He moved closer. "What do you mean?"

"I can't report him."

Seth blinked again. Willow didn't look up, but she could feel it. "Why not?"

Willow didn't want to relive the story. She refused to, but now she knew she would need to relive it in part. She gulped and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Seth was sitting beside the bed, staring at her, her expression far calmer than it had been a moment previous. Feeling a sense of trust, of understanding, she began. "I'm afraid of him."

Seth blinked, cautiously, as if waiting to be sure she was done speaking. He swallowed. "Of Aeron?"

"Yeah," she said, turning back to her mug. "I know what he's capable of."

After a moment, Seth leaned in deeper, wanting to reach out to her but not wanting to push his boundaries.

Willow gulped hard, keeping her eye contact with the male severed. She could feel how warm it was on her cheek, and she knew that he was only trying to help, but she felt as though the mattress devouring her would be less painful than living through this conversation. "When we were together, he wasn't," she hesitated, "the kindest to me."

She could feel Seth's stare go from warm to brisk cold. "How?"

She closed her eyes. "He pushed his limits. I set boundaries that he didn't like, so he tried to tear them down."

"What limits did he push?"

Her eyes opened, and she could feel the familiar wave of anxiety wash over her shoulders, just like it had when she had challenged Aeron back in the day. "Physical ones, mainly." She said, trying to not chew on her lips or cheeks to distort her speech. "He didn't like that sometimes I didn't want him touching me."

Seth shifted in his chair. The information slipped down his spine like an ice cube, and he bristled at it. "Did he ever hurt you?"

Willow could practically hear the snarl through his words, but kept her eyes turned away. "He tried. He got close." She paused, waiting to see if he reacted, pushed, got mad or demanded she say more, but he didn't. While angry, Seth sat still, and quiet, and patient, waiting for her to continue whenever she had the ability to. "He threw things at me a couple times."